{I am a whisper in the darkness

[shadowthief]

Who: Inej + Various
When: Month of May
Where: Cadens + the Horizon
What: Various threads through the month
Warnings: stealing; murder; descriptions of touch aversion, anxiety, depression, PTSD; heavy trust issues, paranoia; mentions of past instances of prostitution, slavery, and sexual assault. Everything will be clearly marked if-when it comes up.

hide it in the darkness but everyone knows

the truth is found in the gallows

Comments

[shadowthief]

“Sure,” she smiles, but it isn’t a plastic thing reserved for customer facing jobs, it’s genuine and real, the sort that does more than move the features of her face and actually reaches her eyes.

She doesn’t recognize him the way she does some of the people that frequent the tavern, but she missed a lot recently while she was taking her time healing from the trauma of the cult and the pit. The distance between her and that long, awful month has helped, at least some.

Inej doesn’t do fancy pours like some, she keeps it simple. Water in glass. No ice. Lemon wedged against the edge of the glass. Glass in front of customer.

“Taking a breather between work and home?” she just makes an educated guess— he’s not dressed like someone out for a night on the town, and the lemon wedge water isn’t exactly a “party drink”. Conversation is part of the gig, but she never presses too far, let’s other people decide if they care enough to engage beyond vague social niceties.

[restingstitchface]

"In a manner of speaking."

Crane is a reserved man: his face lacks a frown or smile and his hands are together in his lap rather than clasped upon the counter. His eyes take her in yet it doesn't seem personal. Conversation is something he partakes in but he doesn't make a habit of it.

"Work keeps me here more and more these days."

Unless he needs to, that is. Not that he is especially fond of talking about himself with most people.

[shadowthief]

That gaze on her feels… odd. Like he’s not even an active participant in this moment, only a passive observer. Which is strange, since he is certainly at the very least humoring her light attempts at conversation.

“What kind of work do you do?” She asks curiously. She’s still rather thinking he looks like something of a mercher. That, she knows, is something of a personal bias, though, and she tries to keep it set aside. Judging people before she knows anything about them at all will get her nowhere.

[restingstitchface]

The curious tone elicits a raised brow. Prying into people is a dangerous trait: one he understands well as a large reason behind why he does what he does. He stares at his glass of water and imagines it running down his back. Childhood experiences.

He leaves them in the past as he speaks.

"I'm a psychiatrist. If you need to understand what that means, I'm more than happy to offer an explanation."

[shadowthief]

"I'm not familiar with the word," she admits. Perhaps they call it something else where she's from, or maybe they simply don't even have an equivalent. It wouldn't be the first time she's come across such an oddity in this world. "Something of the mind, though, yes? Does that make you a doctor?"

[restingstitchface]

"Yes. Psychiatrists are doctors specializing in the diagnosis and treatment of mental illness."

He speaks as though reading from a dictionary. It is hardly the approach he employs professionally but it proves handy in a strange land where people cannot understand. He lifts up his drink and angles it towards her in a gesture.

"Consider it my speciality."

What a shame that this simple approach is necessary for some in his university class. It makes him glad that this woman is at least quick off the mark when it comes to learning.

[shadowthief]

Mental illness. Ravka, Ketterdam, the Shu Han, and Fjerda are a far cry from recognizing such things in their people. But she finds it intriguing, regardless.

“What sort of illness affects the mind so much it’s a specialty?” Depression? Anxiety? She has them in spades, but she wouldn’t call them by those names, exactly. Such is the life of someone from vaguely Industrial Revolution Russia.

[restingstitchface]

Crane adjusts his postion on his stool and brings his hands below the counter, where they clasp on his lap, a soothing ritual that he doesn't acknowledge. Certain subjects deserve his attention. The human mind is one of those and educating others affords him the chance to unwind.

"Illnesses relating to perception, thoughts, feelings and behaviour. All a combination of biological, physical, social and environmental factors. Traumatic experiences from when one was young. Or the accumulated effect of living a difficult life."

He leans forward and clasps his hands over the counter.

"Have you ever felt restless or on edge? There is a cause for that."

Anxiety is so common and he would never cast aspersions.

[shadowthief]

She leans against the bar top and props her chin in her hand as she turns his words over in her mind. Traumatic experiences, a hard life… yes, she can definitely relate to both of those things, one causing the other for the most part in her own personal case.

Inej hums a soft, curious note at that question, “Doesn’t everyone feel that way sometimes?”

[restingstitchface]

His posture straightens as words sink in. Eyes glance aside as he parts his lips and ponders her question: his experience telling him there is no chance everyone feels the same.

He clasps his hands together and gently closes his eyes.

"Yes but is everyone unable to function? Is there not is a difference between mild agorophobia and being terrified by a threat to one's life." He tilts his head. "Yes, some struggle, but some struggle more than others."

[shadowthief]

“What makes a person functional, though? Everyone copes with things differently. Would one person pushing through their traumas make them less… mental-sick than someone who- I don’t know- wallows in their woes?”

This isn’t a conversation she really knows how to have, but she’s trying. “Some people fear for their life simply because of where they live. And… what is that, agoraphobia— phobia is fear, but fear of… what, exactly?”

[restingstitchface]

"It depends. Some fear open spaces, especially those with a crowd, while others refuse to step foot outside their homes."

Crane finds himself feeling the pangs of thirst. He swallows those feelings and clenches his fingers tighter beneath the counter, out of sight and out of mind. It takes him a moment to continue.

"Even more are terrified of travelling to places from which escape is difficult. Does that sound familiar to you?"

[shadowthief]

Her eyebrows lift slightly in surprise. Whatever explanation she might have expected, it wasn’t quite that. “That… sounds like it would be very hard to mitigate.” To say the least.

“No, not really.” She shakes her head slightly. “I mean, no one wants to go somewhere inescapable… that seems pretty reasonable to me.”

[restingstitchface]

Her remark about mitigating agoraphobia causes him to smile. His lips part, as though he might laugh, but before he can remark about the various therapies one might use to manage the disorder, she comments about something that almost makes him laugh.

Almost.

"If nobody wishes to go somewhere inescapable, do you suppose people are happy to make a life here?"

In this inescapable land.

[shadowthief]

She considers his question for a moment and then shrugs, “I don’t know. It probably varies from person to person. Maybe… home was worse than what they face here. Or they have no life to go back to.”

“But I guess people, in general, are pretty resilient. You can adjust to nearly anything, given enough time. So maybe it isn’t about happiness but just… making the best of a situation that’s out of your hands?”