The Disability Chat

Peter

"Oh," I said. "It's probably a television, then..."

I contemplated following after Cricket, but that would mean leaving T.Mor alone in the room. So I stayed.

T.Mor:

A television? Ok..."Erm...What is a television? And how do you use it if there's no door?" I asked, totally perplexed by the thing.

I wondered when Cricket would get back...I wanted to know who he'd talked to.

Name: Screwfoot (or Tommy, if you prefer)
Previous chats?: None.
Age: Hard to say. He appears to be about forty or fifty, but due to the strange emanations of the malevolent books, eh is probably much older.
Appearance: Broad-faced with grey stubble. He has narrow grey eyes and deep frown-lines. He wears a wide-brimmed hat and a long black coat. He also wears a massive set of thick black leather boots bedecked with buckles and chains. The reason for these will become clear.
Disability: He has no feet. The reason he is known as Screwfoot is because he doesn't have typical peg-legs. He has wooden screws in place of ankles, and screw-threads built into his boots. He is capable of walking, but he cannot run properly and has serious trouble on anything other than relatively smooth, flat ground.
Brief summary of aquisition of disability: While fighting with a Hetrach, a section of the ceiling fell down (it might have been his fault due to the charges he used) and trapped him. Luckily some other bookkeepers turned up to help, but not before the Hetrach had bitten off his feet.
Misc. other: He is part of a guild called the Bookkeepers, who track down monsters and trap them in books.

Peter

"It plays shows and stuff," I told him. "There are a bunch of channels that all play different things." I wasn't really sure how to explain it better.

Marley
That one was easy to answer. I tried to remember what DID happen before I woke up here...
'After I bit my tongue off, a while later, my brothers and I were kidnapped by dreamweavers. Adrian wanted to make Dorian pay for what he had done to his family, so he killed Alex, and tortured my emotions until I snapped. Then Dorian and I managed to escape, but I started crushing minds, and crying, and yelling... so he knocked me out. I think that was a few days ago. Then I woke up here' I mouthed this all very emotionless, nothing in my face changing. Like I was telling him about the weather.

((How should I jump in?))

((Just, have him commence by filling out the paperwork that everyone else had to do in the lobby and then...we're planning on starting a group therapy session, so if you just want to take him to it, that would work out I think.))

T.Mor:

"Oh. Ok..." I kind of understood what he was talking about...Riddle sometimes made her shrinebox do cool stuff like that.

Cricket

I tried to keep up, attempting to hold onto every movement and interpret it before it slipped away. I clicked with certain words, but then, it was . . . Wait a moment . . . My thoughts ventured away from what she was saying after a while. Maybe I just wasn't seeing right. It looked like . . . She stopped talking and I snapped out of it. " . . . Ah . . . So sorry . . . can't read lips . . . well . . ." Where was her tongue?

Marley
Oh. Well, if he couldn't read lips, or read, and neither of us knew sign language, then there was really no point of trying to communicate. So I just stood there. I tried to use my power, but that failed. That was part of the void, I supposed. Human now.

Cricket

I was getting concerned. Something had happened to make her this way. I felt my throat, choosing my words carefully. It wasn't going to do any good to ask . . . So what to talk about? "I . . . ah . . . T.Mor . . . and Peter, they're 'ere . . . do you want . . . to see them . . . ?"

Screwfoot stomps into the reception and walks slowly up to the desk. Ah, paperwork. He understands paper. Words are his friends. He fills out two copies of every form, just to enjoy the feeling of recording facts as words. He hands in one copy of the forms and slips the other into his coat pocket. He clumps down the corridor and confronts the door. He knocks.

Dr Doe
I read the list of the newly admitted, a slight frown tugging at the edge of my lips, my finger hovering over the intercom button. Jacky, Invisimort, Endellion, and Winter Dragon, could you not have given your characters just a bit of rest? I silently reprimanded. Those authors and their mascots... I pressed the button, a moment of static filling the air as it squealed to life
"Those who are attending the five 'o clock introduction-slash-group therapy session in the central discussion room, please start heading that direction. I repeat. Those who are attending the five 'o clock introduction-slash-group therapy session in the central discussion room, please start heading that direction. Thank you" Then I switched the intercom off, sighing as I tucked a pencil behind my ear, grabbed my clip board, and proceeded to head there myself. This was going to be quite an experience...

(just send him to the desk, Regret. And the secretary is everybody's character)

ignore my last post. I'm an idiot. Proceed.

Marley
Peter and T.Mor. My head matched the familiar faces to the names. I shrugged, indifferent. Why go see them? But why not? It wouldn't matter either way. Then a voice that I recognized as Dr Doe's spoke. I didn't pay it much attention.

Screwfoot raises an eyebrow. It seems not everyone else anticipated a PLANNED meeting. He checks a pocketwatch, and waits.

Peter

Meeting... Was I going to that? I wasn't sure. Even if I was going, I had no clue how I would get there. So I just sat.

April
I heard the PA system and hung my head. Time to meet othe people. I wandered the halls until I found where I guessed we were meeting. Another girl walked the halls behind me.


(Delilah and April are now in the meeting place...brb Gotta find felix...damn cat...)

Screwfoot hears movement behind him and turns slowly. He sees two girls walking up the corridor, and touches his hat-brim politely.

T.Mor:

I heard the announcement, and now I had the problem of how to get out of the bed. And the looming question of what therapy was.

My chair was still right next to me....Maybe if I did some manouvering...I could somehow drop into it? No..No. Just...No.

I started shoving my legs off the edge of the bed, while simultaneously hitting the call button. I was sitting...ish...by the time that guy from earlier showed up. "Five o' clock session then?" He asked me, this time not waiting for me to ask before pulling me back into the chair. He replaced the foot rest.

"Yeah...Uhm...Can I get a lift? And...erm...Peter...I think...I think...he's coming too..." I said hesitantly. I had a thought, and reached for a pillow off my bed, putting it between my back and the back of the seat. That helped with the pain a bit. "If that's ok..."

"Sure." The guy was nice. Like everyone else here.

Dr Doe
Ah. Seems as though not everybody is listening. Well... everybody /is/ there, actually... except the four. I sigh, resisting the urge to facepalm. Would just a little cooperation be just a little too much to ask for? I muttered to myself as I turned abruptly around, and made my way to where they were.
"Marley, tell Cricket to go to the meeting. You need to go to. So do it" A little harsh, but quite frankly, she wouldn't care, plus it was the only way to communicate with her while she was like this. It seemed Mr Namechov and Mr Arkan already had assistance, so I walked to the meeting room. Tommy, April, and Delilah were already there, and I opened the door to allow access as I gave them a slight smile
"Sorry I'm late, there was a bit of trouble"

Screwfoot inclines his head politely. "Are we ready to begin? I would like to sit down. My feet are killing me."

Marley
I paid no attention to the abruptness of Dr D's appearance, and turned to Cricket again
'Cricket, Dr Doe says we need to go to a meeting' I made sure to mouth slowly, because he wouldn't understand me otherwise, if he wasn't good at lip reading.

Dr Doe
I nodded
"Yes, take a seat inside around the table if you would like. The others will be arriving shortly" They better be, at least...

"Thank you."
Screwfoot clumps over to the table and sits down on a chair. He leans back and groans slightly as he closes his eyes. After a moment, he leans forwards and starts unscrewing his boots from the ends of his legs.

Cricket

"Who . . . ?" I nodded, though, and hesitantly started in the way the lady had started walking.