"Thank you, Stana." One of the volunteer healers here, a healer with no real healing powers, shut her notebook. Jessika was a different sort of healer. She'd been studying psychology, and one of the only resources available here in the safe house so what better way to get Stana to open up than speak with a 'shrink'. Not to mention Jessika was around the same age as her, so it was difficult to take her serious. Still, Stana complied. She answered all of her questions, smiled and nodded where it was necessary, and then scheduled her follow ups. She spoke with her every week, sometimes twice a week if the dreams--or rather nightmares--were too much for her to handle. "I've reported to Kara that you've been doing very well."
Stana nodded. "Thanks."
Having been given a lot of time to talk, Stana remembered and noticed a few details that didn't sit well with her in this place. Details recalled, situations changed, perception shifted to where it should be with certain people.
Kara Viridian was the head of this household, or so they said. Stana had heard of one Damien Noland, and other members that may have been more qualified for the position, yet here she was, running the Order now. She'd recently made a deal with the garou, that Stana didn't quite understand since they were seen as monsters, after all. not a lot of people were in agreement with that decision, but it had been over a month that the transaction had gone through and they hadn't been attacked...yet. Kara mentioned a shrink in the city, London, specifically. His name was Rupert Reynolds, and he was also a wizard. Stana had made excuse after excuse to postpone any appointment with the wizard shrink. Maybe it was her lashing out at Kara for moving on so soon from her late husband to this new man, Mr. Winslow.
"Til next week." Stana rose from her seat and tugged down on her shirt, pulling her own journal from the end table. It'd had her notes, sketches, scrawl of freeform poetry and stories composed from her dreams. She kept it with her at all times, unless it was under lock and key if she had to step away without it. Stana gave a polite but forced smile to Jessika before leaving the office. She was still baffled Jessika had her own office, at that age, as if she'd been established already, with her judgmental pen and paper. Her only excuse was that there were too many rooms and not a lot of inhabitants, surely.
The after-dinner lurkers were doing their rounds in the hall, and Stana did her best to greet them as she passed. She'd hoped not to see Diana Blaine, because quite frankly, she didn't have much to say to her. She might have seen her as a sweet girl, before but the more she got to thinking, Stana knew she and Diana were far from friendship. They might have been cordial at times but Stana remembered the teensy little detail that Apollo's sister had run off after graduation to become a Death Eater...so why in Merlin's name was she here, of all places? She knew she'd been attacked. She knew she'd suffered the same fate before, and was taking longer to recover, as fragile as she was, but she at least had Jaleth to protect her. Stana's companion in that prison cell was already dead just days into their captivity, so yes, she had been scarred by quite a bit more than the poor Death Eater girl and her boyfriend, the Professor.
As she rounded the corner, Stana started to wonder where Mr. Partridge had run off to. He was her favorite person here at the safe house. Not just by attraction to an older man (though she couldn't deny it), but he was kind, genuine and friendly. She believed in his intentions, she believed in his drive and his constant want and need to help the Order. But daydreaming as she turned a corner meant she wasn't paying attention, and she bumped into someone else walking through. Her journal tumbled to the floor, the loose papers spilling from it, spreading across the floor.
"Shit... She cursed to herself. "Pardon me."