Tristan Emerson, young successful writer though you wouldn't know it. He never spent his money in excess and didn't own a fancy car or luxurious huge pent house apartment. The young French man had that when he was a child, and felt that he wanted his adult life to be different from his childhood. Maybe, deep down he didn't want to be alone again, he wasn't sure. Sure being alone had given him all the ideas and the push to write a novel like the one he wrote. Being alone had allowed him to simmer in the pot of his dark imagination, a dark imagination that earned him a spot in a Psych ward. Not that it was all bad he had met Lily in that place. But that was an entirely different story.
All the thoughts swam and fought for dominance in Tristan's head, he didn't know what to make of them or if he should be thinking about them at all. Which was why he was heading to a Psychologist, something he thought he would never willingly do again. But even with that he was still in a rather pleasant mood, of course he was still his usual dark self, but now there was a dark smile to match that personality. God, what his parents would say if they knew where he was going. But he would have to answer their phone calls for them to know anything.
Pushing his black ray bans back up his nose he stepped onto the sidewalk and looked up at the building he was about to enter. "Can't be any worse than the psych ward." He muttered to himself as he walked over to the doors and stepped inside heading for the elevator. Tristan was in his usual attire, black trousers with un-scuffed boots, a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows and his dark hair a mess atop his head.
After an awkward elevator ride with an elderly woman Tristan found himself in front of the door to the office. Taking a deep breath he entered to find the receptionist already calling his name. "Right here." The woman gave him a once over and nodded, instructing him to follow. The woman knocked on a closed door before letting Tristan inside and shutting the door. "Hey doc." Tristan called in a less than enthused tone looking around the room towered with books and bookshelves. "Hello Mister Emerson, I see you're a little late." Tristan flashed a quick grin before continuing to look around the room, his blue eyes landing on a dark haired woman. He pointed at her lazily while looking to the doctor. "Do you already have another meeting...am I suppose to wait out in the lobby..?"
Mm, another sit-in session with the doc, something December was highly unexcited about. But it was the only way she could get a good enough recommendation to become a qualified psychologist. Her parents had worked in or around the profession she was in, but still she thought it was kind of a contradiction. As a child kids often refereed to her as emo, or goth, because of the way she dressed. But still she was always convinced that this was what she wanted to do with her life.
Here she was sitting in his office, where he had called her in only moments ago. "So Mrs. December.. I will fill you in on today's patient.. a Mr. Emerson." Doc said tersely. "Miss. December, and thank you. Please do." She said just as she took out her notebook and pen, to take her leisurely curt notes, that she insisted on taking each session. Maybe she herself was crazy but she was beginning to think that each and every patient had ore to go on then just their mental stability.
"This Mr. Emerson, is about 25 years of age, visited a psych ward during his teen years. He has acute depression disorder, and he lacks social ability, which only tacks on with his dark mind." Doc said almost a bit too smugly., He'd done his homework, well good for him. "When you say dark mind.. you mean.. what exactly?" She asked skeptically, a slight rise of the brow. "Thats exactly what you'll be observing today." He said sitting back in his chair. That was what she liked about hi, he didn't give anything away.. simply quizzed her after, to see if she could pinpoint it all.
Just as she was to ask further more questions, low and behold the Mr. Emerson entered the room trailing behind a receptionist. The Doc and him traded remarks, she didn't really pay attention. She was already examining him, watching how he moved and writing it all down in the process. It was just the way she was use to doing things, so thoroughly. Hearing the last bit of what they were saying, she stood up putting her note book down. "Mr. Emerson , I am December, a sit in Psychologist, I hope you don't mind." she said holding her hand out to his.
"Mm, training to be just like him." Tristan remarked more to himself than her, his bright eyes trailed over the young woman for a moment. She was probably around the same age as him, give or take a year, most likely take. Wiping the palm of his hand on his jeans he took hers and gave it a firm squeeze and shake. "You can call me Tristan...and I don't mind...exactly..." He said skeptically with his brows pulled together. "Though I wish you would of told me, Doc" He turned his words now directed to the Doctor.
"I'm sorry I didn't think it would be a problem." Tristan shrugged his shoulders and dropped down onto the cushioned chair across from the doctor. "Are you going to be asking the question or is she?" As he said the words he nodded his head in December's direction. "Because I don't really know where you want me to start."
December squeezed his hand back for a moment and returned to her chair where she remotely retrieved her note pad, and wrote a few things down. "I will be observing.. I prefer to acknowledge even the smallest of details, already you are an enigma to me." She said raising a slight eye brow. "And.. it is very nice to make your acquaintance Tristan." She announced rather uniformly. She was very serious when it came to her work, or well her unqualified work, as it were.
"You will begin at the beginning, as is usual." Doc said, looking directly at Tristan. She liked the doc, he was always so crypitical, and he seemed to be one of the few people who admired her train of work. Having her parents die only months before, left her alone in the field. It was her soul duty to carry on the family name and career. Maybe it was just her but things were looking up, all of a sudden. Their new patient seemed to be a new intrigue, ready to happen.
"Alright." Tristan spoke to the doctor but looked at December, his eyebrows pulling together as he seen her jotting something down on her note pad. That annoyed him a little but he pushed that to the back of his mind and worked on relaxing into his seat. He pushed his messy hair away from his face and brought his blue hues to the doctor once again. Tristan was reluctant to begin, he wasn't sure if that was just his normal behavior or it was the presence of the young woman. Probably a little bit of both.
The doctor gave Tristan a look as if to prompt him to start crying and sobbing out his life story. "Uhm....I had another one of those dreams." Tristan let out almost reluctantly. The doctor shifted in his seated and nodded in encouragement. "Okay Tristan, tell me about the dream." Tristan let out a sigh and glanced briefly over to the dark haired woman. "You know what dream doc, it's just like the scenes from my book."
As She listened, she noticed the flush that came to his face, so these dreams must be an active thing. As most people seemed to think, irregular occurances much be bad, right? In December's opinion, just because you dream of something no one else does, doesnt mean you defected. To her it meant, you were in a way gifted. gifted in a way most others werent, or couldnt understand. I guess her level of understanding and civility, was what most lked about her.
"continue..." the doc prompted, sitting forward in his seat, suddenly intent on what the guy was gonna say. In a way she was intent on listening too, she wanted to know what fascinated some one of his intensity. It radiated off him in waves, intriguing her yet again. When he'd flipped his bejeweled eyes in her direction she'd seen a bit of annoyance flicker in the depths of them, he didnt like her taking notes on him. How interesting, really she didnt need to take notes of him. As it was she could just store them in her brain for future referance. But she liked her level of oddity. Suddenly wanting to hear his voice again, she herself sat upright in her chair, her head inclined in his direction.
Tristan didn't continue right away, instead he pushed his fingers through his mess of dark hair and sank deeper into his chair. If it wasn't bad enough that he had to spill out his soul to one person he had to do it with two people in the room. This was his worst nightmare. "Well..." Shifting almost uncomfortably his hues drifted over to December again before snapping his attention back to the doctor.
"You knew I was having these for a long time....that's where my book idea came from." Leaning his head back he stared up at the ceiling and blew out a breath of air. "Just...dark....black walls, really cold." HIs long fingers traced undefined patterns on the arm of the chair. "The walls change and shift behind my back."
December, as she listened became suddenly baffled at the idea that this man would be considered mentally acute, because of his dreams. So far as she listened, they did seem odd and rare, but really there wasn't much anything wrong with such things. Especially if they got you book credits. December watched closely still though, she still couldn't figure him out. He was still the same enigma he was when he walked through the door.
Decembers eyes transfixed on his hand as he started tracing patterns into the arm of his chair. It was as if he was trying to distract himself, from reality and dream scape all at once. She knew doctors who majored only on dreams, and what they meant. Maybe they did mean something, but it was hardly ever known what it was. "Excuse me.. but for some reason I feel like I've just fallen into a Poe's story book. And I feel like you'd give more of your dream up, if you felt more comfortable.. that or there was only one person in the room, correct?" She asked her brows drawing together.
When December started to speak Tristan dropped his hand from the arm of the chair into his lap, lacing his fingers together. God, what he wouldn't give for a cigarette right now. Glancing at the clock he let out a sigh, he only had forty more minutes of this meeting left to endure. "I'm not reluctant to give anything." Tristan snapped, not looking at December but focusing his eyes on the notepad that was in the doctor's lap. Part of him was always wondering what doctor's wrote about patients. Patient is acting like a complete asshole today. Maybe, that would fit him at least. A double whopper. No lettace. Tomatoes and a coke. That seemed very likely, who wanted to write about patients all day? Take your freaking lunch order.
"It's the same damn dream every night, it's the same damn thing in my book which the doctor has read...." Emerson looked up from the notepad to stare pointedly at the doctor for a moment. "I just don't like repeating myself." He let out a sigh and slunk back into his seat. "Well Tristan what would you like to talk about?" The doctor asked, shifting in his leather seat. "You're the doctor, you tell me."
December sighed, she wasn't use to patients not liking her, but then again she was kind of being an ass. However she had read 'about the book of his, she did do her homework. though she couldn't go out and get herself a copy and read it she was able to get foot notes online step by step from the plot summary, to the index. Eying the patient carefully, she let the doctor speak. "Though i'm sure December is interested in this book of yours, how about we talk about why you finally decided to see me."
The doctor truly had been curious as to why he was finally going to come and see him, after all that time. It was understood he hated doctors of any kind. Shrugging she stood up and stretched, "Sorry but its getting a little too tense in here for my liking, coffee anyone?" She asked as she walked over to the doctors self supplied coffee shelf, and began making herself a vanilla coffee shot. Really she hated when situations got tight, but she could understand the part about not wanting to repeat himself. His book had been a remarkable write, from what she'd heard and seen. She was intrigued enough to g home and sell her radio for money to go out and get a copy.
Rubbing a hand over his eyes Tristan watched as December excused herself to get some coffee. The desire for a cup came over him but he pushed it back. Before coming to the doctor's office he stopped at a local cafe and had a cup. That wasn't really an excuse to not ask for one, he was just hesitant to ask December for anything. His anti-social personality kept him from liking her or wanting to ask her for anything, or to speak to her directly for that matter. Tristan Emerson was a very stubborn young man.
Why did Tristan, who was known to strongly dislike any type of mental help doctors, finally decide to up and make an appointment with Doctor Hertenstein? "Hm, good question." When he left the Psychiatric ward in France they had told him he was supposed to make regular visits to either a Psychologist or Psychiatrist, but he had never followed through with it. Why now? His blue hues drifted over to December, studying her back as she fixed herself a cup of coffee. "I just...guess..."His dark brows pulled together as he thought. "Maybe...I'm tired of being alone...just needed someone to talk to."
Finishing dispensing her coffee into a white foam cup, she proceeded to lean back against the table. Her stance looking very much relaxed when indeed she was as aware of everything as a soldier going into war. She sipped her coffee as she listened to Tristan talk, in all the time he'd been here, he'd said very little. She was tempted to speak up again, but decided to keep her mouth shut, she didn't want to piss the patient off again. She knew she was already going to get a lecture when this session was over. Great, that'd mean again she'd be the last person out of the building.
Last thing she needed was to go through another rape/mugging again. realizing her thoughts were going on a rampage she focused on Tristan, just her luck she happened to hear his last sentence. 'alone.. just needed someone to talk to' god, there were so many ways she could connect with that. "Well then i'm glad you came at last, I know it seems like we haven't gotten through anything yet, but soon enough we'll see it through." he said, putting his note pad down, finally. December could only raise a brow in wonder, in only so many words he'd basically made it sound like Tristan were a child. She sighed and made a mental note not to laugh in his face later when he lectured her on only talking when your talked to.
Tristan tried to keep it from Doctor Hertenstein's notice that he could barely keep his eye lids open while he spoke. The young man wasn't tired...he was tired of listening to the whack job doctor. He wanted to get home and write, scribbling on bits of paper and his arms. Finally snapping out of his thoughts he brought his eyes to the doctor and nodded his head. "So, I can go now?" His blue hues flickered quickly over to the clock, which said that they only had about a minutes left. Tristan did a little dance in his head.
Noting the change in Tristan's eyes the doctor picked up his pen and made a quick note on the notepad he had just set down. "Yes, you can. I expect to see you in here next week. Tristan pushed himself up and pushed the hair from his eyes. "Look forward to it." Walking towards the door his hues drifted over to December. "Nice meeting you." He then opened the door and into the lobby, where he needed to make another appointment to see the doctor.
The woman at the front desk helped him out saying that he could return next week, all he had to do was sign his name on some paperwork. "Do you have a blue pen?" He asked holding the pen in his hand and looking down at it. "I can't write in black...." There was his OCD popping up and making itself known.
December sighed as she watched Tristan leave the office, in haste. He obviously didnt like these sessions already. She sighed and turned to catch the doctor looking at her expectantly, " Listen doc, i know what i did wrong.. can i just go home without one of your lectures.. tonight has not been the best." Maybe that was harsh but it was true. "you'll be here for the next meeting i presume?" the doctor asked. he hadn't even seemed to blink an eye so she shrugged and nodded a yes. hurriedly she grabbed her purse and note pad and grabbed her keys out of her bag.
It would be a long walk to her car, better to start now while she was at it. Softly closing the door to doctor hertenstein's office she looked over at the receptionists desk and noticed Tristan was still there. She walked over, knowing the sign out sheet was there, and she had to sign out; she happened to catch the last of his phrase. After signing her name with her own pen, she handed it to be, "ball point and everything. Keep it, I have others." She said briskly and walked off to the stair well, she didnt like the confinement of the elevator. She liked to be handy just in case something happened, and not stuck some place enclosed.
"Hm." Tristan took the pen from December's hand, his eyes studying it for a moment before he signed his name on all the designated forms. "There was that so hard?" The woman asked at the desk once he pushed the papers back to her. "Actually it was. You're lucky I didn't use that black pen. You could have sent me into a mental shock that the doctor never would be able to get me out of." Emerson raised his brows and nodded his head for emphasis before turning and his heel and leaving the office. While waiting for the elevator he studied the blue pen in his hand, he had one just like it at home, keeping it made him feel....wrong.
The elevator dinged and he took it all the way down, stepping out of the enclosed metal box the same instant December emerged from the stairwell. "I can't keep your pen." He walked over to her with long strides and held it out to her. "It...doesn't...I just wanted to give it back." He wiggled the pen in his fingers a little more to get her to take it.
December sighed almost drastically as she descended the stairs, it was pathetic really; but she was use to this routine by now. Wake up-alone, Eat breakfast-alone, Go the office-alone, come home -alone, go to bed-alone; yeah she was all that predictable. When she finally emerged from the stairwell, she looked up, only to be startled, into the face of Tristan. not realizing he was holding and talking about the pen for a moment, she mentally shook herself and raised and eye brow, and looked at the pen he was handing to her, her own pen. "oh.. well thank you, kind of figures all my others are out of ink. Saves me the dilemma of having to go to the store for more." She said absently, and took the pen out of his hand.
She quickly stuffed her pen into her purse and looked up to realize he was still standing there. "Ahh.. look I've got a long walk to my car.. I should get going." Just thinking about the walk brought back the thoughts she was distracted by earlier in the office. She usually parked her car right in front, but today it had been different and cars had been everywhere, so she'd parked as close as she could get. The last time that happened was when she had just turned twenty, and she'd been coming out of a concert. Hard lessons where learned the hard way, you could say; She was raped and mugged that night. Something she could never forget, she thought, shadows passing over her face.
Once the pen was removed from Tristan's grasp he shoved his fingers into the pocket of his jeans, feeling the pack of cigarette's in the small denim confinement. It instantly brought back the urge to have one of the cancerous stick. He wanted to feel the burn as it ate away at his lungs and turned them that black color her loved so much. When December said that she had to get to her car, his jewled eyes looked over to the glass door, it was getting dark and wouldn't be good for anyone to walk to their car alone. Now, Tristan wasn't usually a very social being but he couldn't leave this young woman a victim to the night. He could be an asshole at times but he knew the difference between right and wrong, and when you were supposed to be a gentleman.
"How about I walk you to your car?" The way he said it made it obvious that he wasn't giving her the choice, he was going to walk her to her car whether she liked it or not. By now he was walking slowly out of the building an unlit cigarette between his thin lips. "You don't even have to talk to me. I can walk behind you...or in front of you."
December stood amiss as she watched Tristan begin to trail ahead of her a loose cigarette between his lips. She was grateful that be offered, no demanded to walk her to her car, but just the way he'd said it made him seem arrgoant in ways maybe he didnt even understand. She sighed and began to follow him because if she didnt she would make an ass and a fool out of herself. She brought up her pace to match his, she wasn't the type to leave someone to their own justice. Noticing his cigarette was unlit, she grinned and took out one of her own, how convenient.
"Need a light?" She asked as she took out her own pack and a lighter, carved with her name on it and a spiraled dragon on the side. looking up at him she deliberatly stuck it between her lips and lite her own, take a leisure exhale in as she did so. Sticking her pack into her purse she held up her lighter, and flicked the bick causing the flame to grow expediently as she held it there for him to decide. for some reason she couldn't see this guy as the smoking type, which only made the glint of mischief in her eyes all the more noticeable.
Tristan didn't speak, instead he just nodded his head and steadied his steps so he wouldn't be bobbing back and fourth while trying to get a light. He didn't want his hair to go up in flames, that would be painful and smell pretty bad. Cupping his hand around the front of the lighter, careful not to touch December's hand he leaned forward so the end of his cigarette was engulfed by the flame. The dark haired man let it stay there until the end glowed a deep ember color signaling that it was lit. Pulling back so he was standing up straight he took a deep puff, letting the dark smoke fill his lungs. "Thanks." Plumes of smoke trickled from his lips and twined up into the air.
It was starting to get cold outside, not that Tristan minded. He preferred the cold weather to the hot. It was easier to stay warm, all you had to do was stay inside or go into some store with a heater. The silence between him and December wasn't entirely awkward, it was held an air of understanding. Neither of them were very talkative people.
Let me know if you like what you see, btw I wrote everything under 'December' Tristan was written
by a mutli para Role player who calls himself Tristan =] So I only take credit for December not Tristan. Thank you.