[HappyHappyHierophant]

Funny that she was a doctor, because she led a thoroughly unhealthy life. Maybe that was why she so intently wrangled each of her patients - controlling their lives seemed to be a lot easier than controlling her own, she thought.

She was very sick of her absolute bum of boyfriend, yet hoped they would reach an understanding. But they never did, and both knew they never would. At one point she needed to run somewhere warm, somewhere happy, like here - but she end up being by far disenchanted. What could make her feel enchanted? It came to the point where she wondered why she would even bother to wake up in the morning anymore. But she told herself she was a stronger girl, and she always pushed that thought away.

Life was a game, an ex-boyfriend told her, before packing his bags and leaving her and his gambling debts behind, imprisoning her in this hell of a lover's paradise. If you let yourself think those thoughts, you lose.

[SpringsSong]

Why was he even here?

The human-form Battleheart asked himself this as he stood in the bathroom, his eyes blank—but then again, his eye were blank on a consistent basis, being a DreamSnare.  While his eyes might have looked like they once showed emotion, they never would show that same emotion again... or so he thought.

Why, why in the world, did I ever break things off with her?  Why did I treat her like that?  Why did I do that to her... and why did she not let me take back my words?  Why did she not believe me when I told her I was sorry?  Why?

It was evident now why this young man had been admitted to the hospital; the many bruises he had were an indication.  Were they from himself, trying to recreate the pain that she must have felt when he broke it off with her?  Were they from a parent that disagreed with how the situation had been handled, that wanted them to stay together?  Were they from the girl’s new boyfriend, who vowed to protect and defend them at all costs?

Or... were they maybe marks of a Bleeder, and he was fighting off the manifestation of it altogether?

None of those blasted things will take to my shoulder and mock me about how, in leaving her and then trying to reclaim her, she shut me out, how she must not have loved me.  I don’t need one of them to tell me that if Rossa had truly loved me, then she would have begged me to stay, instead of taking my words at face value... oh, Rossarinya...

He didn’t even realize how long he had been gone from his room.  It had been a good half an hour now, and he was just standing there, his head lowered, sighing as he looked up every now and again.  He noticed the open stall housing a female, but he tried not to stare too much.  Either she was a confused patient or a fried doctor.

[1.1]

[HappyHappyHierophant]

Wait, there he was. The new patient that had gone mising. She knew little to nothing about him. She was in a bad mood as usual. He's supposed to be in his room. But looking at all the bruises on his arms made her recoil a bit. Worrying they might have been self-inflicted, she dialed back her frustration, in a small rarely glimpsed bit of sympathy for her patients. She watched cautiously, not wanting to set the young man off.

[SpringsSong]

Neurion could tell that he was being stared at just by glancing up at the mirror and seeing the look on the doctor's face.  He would have turned around, but he winced as he started to move, placing a hand over one of the bruises.  Looking in the mirror at the most visible one, he noticed that its color was almost the same color as his larger scales when he was in his Battleheart form.  If what one of his companions said about the manifestation of a Bleeder was true, then these darned things were not giving up on him.

"I suppose you are wondering... where all of these bruises came from..."

His voice was just above a whisper as he said this, and then, a doctor walked in, his face clearly frustrated as he laid eyes on Neurion.  He said something about how he'd been looking all over the place for him, how he wasn't supposed to wander out of his room like this, and that he really oughtn't be moving with how many bruises were on his body.

Neurion sighed.  The doctors here all thought he was the victim of some sort of domestic violence case, but that wasn't true.  He cast Quirina a quick glance, and then, he closed his eyes slightly.

Room 204, Rehabilitation ward, just in case you were wondering... he said to her telepathically, limping towards the doctor who was still scolding him even after he was settled in the wheelchair.

[1.2]

[SpringsSong]

[[Ack, sorry about this, Hiero, but I need to get un-stuck...]]

The human-form Battleheart listened with deaf ears as the doctor continued to reprimand him for leaving his room and walking completely out of the ward he was supposed to be in.  Quite frankly, he was sick of all of these doctors thinking he was sick or that he had been beat up by someone or something.  He knew that neither of those were true; the pain in his heart that he felt when he thought about the beautiful woman he had hurt by leaving him was trying to summon a Bleeder to mock him.

[1.3]

[SpringsSong]

"Are you even listening, Mr. Neurion?" the doctor asked, and a pair of Battleheart horns emerged from his head as he growled at the doctor that was talking to him as though he was an incompetent child.  If there was one thing that angered him more than being talked to like a child--which, at about 500 years of age, he was anything but a child--it was that he talked to him like he was a child who knew nothing.

"Yes, Doctor.  I need to stay in my bed until you can assess my condition." Neurion said, sighing in a rather angered matter.  The doctor nodded as he wheeled the wheelchair into the room and put it next to the bed, moving arund so that he could assist the human-form Battleheart.

[1.4]

[SpringsSong]

After the doctor had helped him into bed, all Neurion could do was lay there.  He hated being confined to this bed, and he also hated being confined to a regiment of doctors and nurses that seemed more like interrogators, asking him over and over again if he had been involved in any gangs.  His answers would always be the same; no, he had not been a part of a gang fight, the bruises were from a Bleeder trying to manifest in him, but the doctors insisted that there had to be more to it then that.

Bumbling, idiotic doctors that have to prove everything with bloody science....

[2.0]