Welcome to Gaia! ::

Dear Diary Asylum was originally called Great Brookes and was known to house the most mentally insane teens to walk the face of the earth. Ten years ago, a sixteen year old girl named Xena Hale was admitted to Great Brookes. She had anxiety attacks where she would have the urge to write on herself. It started as sharpie doodles on her hands and arms, nothing unusual. It expanded to ink scritpures and poems covering her back and writen with a caligraphy pen. No one quite knows how she manouvered her arms to cover her entire back but she did. The supervisors of Great Brookes helped her slightly by giving her a diary in which to write when she had an anxiety attack.

Her condition improved greatly and after five years, she was completely cured, and had published twenty of her diaries. The only reminder she has every day now are the scars that cover her face, back, arms, and lower legs. Words. Running to together to the point where you can't even desifer what they say anymore. Words carved into her skin. Within the last five years, Xena has worked at Great Brookes and was left it when the owner passed away. She renamed the institute Dear Diary Asylum and has a new way to help troubled teens.

Each teenager admitted to Dear diary Asylum receives a diary in which to write anything they want. It helps with most patients and for others is just something nice to have, but Xena has made it her goal in life to help those teens that are like herself at that age.

I will add more if needed. One Character per room for patients. Two character per room for supervisors. Supervisors may also live at home and drive to work.

Patients

First Floor
A1:
A2: Chikara Kizu
A3: Aine Hiyo
A4: Colette Johannsen
A5:
A6: Yuri-Anna Raccio

Second Floor
B1: Aaron Averman
B2: Destiny-Rain Jones
B3: Addie Rishon
B4: Campbell
B5: Alyssa Ferolin Sinclair
B6:

Supervisors

Suites on 3rd floor.
C1: Xena Hale (Pre-Made Up for grabs)
C2: Georg Falen
C3: Mina Justiano
C4: Rion Bravaldi
C5:

It was dim in the room, dim to fit the owner of the room's taste. Although it was morning, there were no windows in her room. The owner of the room lay sleeping on her bed. The room was normal like any other, everything except for the fact that the perimeter of it was lined with plastic. Everything from the walls, to ceiling, to the floor. Her bed, tables, anything there is wrapped with plastic. All were concealed to make the person in that room comfortable, to be able to cope. That person was the girl laying on her bed, sleeping soundly. A beautiful teenager with fair skin at the edge of adulthood, there was only one thing that hid her beauty from the eyes of others...it is her barrier. Always wearing a translucent shower cap that captured all of her blond hair on top of her hair. A mask over her mouth, still enabling her to breath and clear goggles over her deep emotion filled sapphire eyes.

She wore a white jumpsuit that was secured to her. Rubber disposable gloves on her hands and rubber boots on her feet. That is how she has always been, covered in the best and safest way she could. Away from all the germs and bacteria...from all that contamination...

Aine eye's fluttered open, groaning a bit while she sat up from her bed. Being cautious as usually, she quickly threw her gloves away in a waste basket and as fast as she could, got a new one out, immediately putting it on. Her disorder or more like phobia is somewhat a rare case. Scared of everything around her, scared of all that decomposed trash that she sees. Her past was not a good one...a horrible, inhuman experience she went through.

Getting her diary out of the table drawer near her, along with a plastic wrapped pencil except for its tip. Carefully opening the disinfected book, she turned to the page she needed. Starting to write in elegant cursive, she wrote about her dreams of what she dreamed during the night. Not a nightmare that she would sometimes have, but a dream of her wish...

When the sun rose, Georg was there to greet it. Weather it be from his room to the courtyard or in the halls, Georg was always there waiting. It’s rays were like a blessing, a prayer answered for a new day. It’s light was judgment upon the darkness, a war that was always won. As the sun rose, so too did Georg’s strength, and with the sun setting, his strength also waned.

Along with the ritual of greeting the sun, was the ritual of starting work, though Georg never thought of it in such a manner. Work was such a crude word, and often induced one with dread and sad obligation. This was what Georg lived for, another day, another chance to brave the darkness and guide the lost back into the world of the living, back to the lives they deserved and to the loved ones that waited for them. Those that resided behind Dear Diary’s walls were not the only ones fighting, the ones that waited on the outside looking in were fighting as well. For to lose hope was easy, it was holding on that was the hard part. Many patients that were submitted here were here because someone cared enough to bring them here. To those people, Georg would make an honest effort each and every day. And to see patients walk out those doors and into a world of light, made all his efforts worth while.

After bathing and changing into fresh clothes, the man often grabbed a quick bite to eat, pocketing a fruit or two into his long white coat. He then quickly walked to his room and started up his personal computer. This was where he kept all profiles of every patient currently residing at Dear Diary Asylum. He monitored their progress, their habits, personalities and of course their disorders. Unfortunately at the current moment, Dear Diary was understaffed’. Though the job was very rewarding, it was a very tough task that often took it’s toll upon one’s spirit and mind. They had lost many good doctors and nurses with in the last few months. Georg did not blame them, but this was all the more reason he found that he had to be ready each day. The problems grew more serious, more complicated to where you couldn’t just separate them into their own perfect little categories. The illness was being twisted, warped, and if they didn’t change their tactics, they would lose their patients. Their cries were ringing clearly with in Dear Diary’s walls. Georg could hear it, the darkness was trying to drown them in silence, but Georg was determined to give voice to the lost. They wanted to be heard.

The man sat in front of the computer opening one file after another, small cursor moving here and there with in seconds. Documents opened then closed, pictures opened, former souls of patients stared back from family photos, shots articles, anything and everything of that person’s past. Georg stared at them, studied them, and then moved on. To fight the darkness, you had to give it form, had to know it’s tricks, and it’s signs. He did not claim to know everything, his reports leaving glaring gaps and questions, but any information was precious to the man. Any information gave him a weapon, a tool, a method to fight back.

If it wasn’t obvious by now, but Georg’s mind set, his attitude was geared towards war. To fight and lose would be to lose your own soul, but the reward was always just one life. And that was always enough for Georg.
A few more sharp clicks and the printer set up whirled to life in a series of mechanical clicks and beeps, producing hot paper and fresh reports. By the end of the month the Lady of Dear Diary would want to see a compilation of his reports. Now armed, Georg clipped them to his steel back clip board and set out to make his rounds. By the time he’d finished his initial check up with most patients, the day had already bled into the early afternoon He had seen all that he needed except one. That was odd. Georg furrowed a single brow. He looked to his papers again. Yuri – Anna, she was a patient that had a monthy visit from her mother. Her fascination with fire was very unhealthy and sometimes Gerog thought the girl actually possessed the power of flames for it seemed she could make anything ignite. He had no doubt that had they not kept a close eye on her as he always insisted, Dear Diary would have gone down in flames on numerous occasions. That was why it was oh so important for him to locate her. The Lady of Dear Diary would not appreciate her Asylum burning to the ground as much as him loosing a patient. Georg circled the visitation grounds before he finally came upon her. Low and behold, there was Yuri Anna, and with her, there was fire. Why was she alone? Sometimes Georg felt that he could strangle the personnel here! Did they not care? Breathing deeply Georg took large strides to where the girl tried to hide her ‘friend’.

Though he was annoyed to find her alone, Georg was not mad with Yuri herself. But he’d be most interested to know who gave the girl a box of matches. Certainly it was not the asylum itself for they had no need of such things and most certainly did not keep them in easily accessible places for patients to get at.“To stare so intently at a living flame is dangerous Miss Yuri.” Georg spoke softly, solemnly. “They say fire casts a spell upon that person and the demon with in the flame is released.”

Yuri watched the flame with an intense passion as it flickered and twisted with a life of its own as even the slightest color difference seemed vibrant in her eyes. Reaching out as if to caress the flame she wept her hand around it with speed and practice in such a way from an inexperienced eye she was manipulating the fire though it was all tricks of the hand and wind. It was only within her mind that she could truly control the flames that threaten to consume her. In the back of her mind she heard the quick steps of Georg's approach as his shadow came but instead of facing him with hollow eyes that showed no secrets she smiled jokingly as she replied to him, "What makes you think I am the one who stared into the flame, perhaps I am the demon." Not moving from her position she took another bite from her peach disappointed to find that was the last bite. Only in the light of flame did her world have colors, tastes, or any emotion. Looking at Georg her playful look became calculating and almost scared as if she had never seen him before causing her to ask, "Have you always looked that way?" It wasn't until she noticed that difference that she looked around. The farther from the flame the grayer the world became until it was back into her shades of gray. Yuri had seen it before but never really seen it. Things had changed so much since the priest, so many years ago, had planted the spark that she was evil something she had never been able to shake off. As the wind blew the fire dangerously close to the edge of her longer pants she threw the seed from her peach into the flame saying in a defeated borderline depressed tone, “Do I have to put it out?” Yuri had never been great at waiting on others to answer for she was quite impulsive when her world wasn’t cast in shades of gray. Something her other psychiatrists had never understood. To only be able to have a glimpse at what you wanted before having it stolen from you over and over could get to a person. Especially if that person had been born over the edge that defined sanity. In hindsight while she still felt emotion running wild through her, she did feel bad for the doctor she had accidentally set fire to, but to be fair she had told him not to mess with it she thought as her mind raced with endless possibility while she subconsciously struck another match and dropped it into the burning mass.