Participants:
| Scene Title | How To Save A Lost Oniermancer |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Brennan approaches Dema to pick his brain about how to get Delia back to her body, if they can even find her body. |
| Date | November 22, 2010 |
Suresh Center: Cafeteria
They have someone newly manifested, not doing so fairly well either it seems if Brennan's coming out of the room having spent a few hours there negating. He's got to head over to the financial district after lunch, his shift at the private practice, extended hours to make up for thanksgiving coming. The chart of the teenager in hand scribbling across the notes, marking down the request for the promised medication to keep the teen at ease. Easily going to be a tier 2, but much like on the Advocate, with education and help, he'll be a functional member of society.
As he looks up, looking for a nurse to go in and administer the necessary drugs, his gaze lands on Dema. Dema who he should have hunted down earlier but got derailed by the teenager and work in general. He offers a business smile to dema, signing off on the chart and passing it over to the immense russian. "Good morning"
The broadness that is Dema Gataullin, dressed in his crisp scrubs, takes the clipboard, the slate of plastic looking delicate in his large hands. Deep set blue eyes flick over the chart, doing some basic double-checking, making sure that nothing as been missed in doctorial haste. The direct address pulls his gaze up, towards Brennan, and the medical assistant returns the greeting with a nod but no voluable answer. Not a terrible talkative sort, Dema, as even a little time spent with him will let one know.
"You're a dream manipulator, right?" Odd question really, to ask. Brennan's sliding his pen home into the pocket of his white jacket, not taking his gaze off the other man. "Could you go make sure that's filled and I'll meet you in the cafeteria? Breaks is on me. I have something I want to ask you" Not so much a request from the boss as an order, per se.
Orders are, really, preferable to requests from superiors. They are far more honest, leaving no false sense of real choice. Dema nods his assent to his ability classification. 'Dream manipulator' is certainly close enough. "Yes, doctor," are the only two words Brennan manages to get out of Dema, at least for the moment. This done, the fullness of Dema's available attention is turned to the chart, the assignment at hand. Brennan disappears from the Russian man's field of active perception. Whatever pinprick of curiosity 'something to ask' may produce in the assistant is neatly suppressed. Dema's not gotten this old by getting nosey with superiors.
Brennan will be down in the cafeteria, having sequestered a table that isn't quite surrounded by other individuals be they workers of patients/family who need/desire food and drink. His conversation with Dante still fairly fresh in his mind, he's got his early lunch in front of him so a salad and some chili, dumping a packet of parmesan cheese on top before making for his coffee. It's almost like he's mimicking his wife's cravings while he waits for the nurse that is Dema to come on down. His break has been cleared.
Sympathetic cravings are certainly better than actual sympathetic pregnancy. Heck, who doesn't enjoy wanting, and thus answering that want? The mechanisms of desire are precisely the sort of thing that Dema, in his sleeping hours, traverses or, at least, the products of those mechanisms, the wish lists and somnolent attempts at impossible reconciliation.
It's all rather confusing, and makes the drabness of the cafeteria all the more shabby. For all that Dema has warned certain dream wanderers about getting lost, the length and regularity of his own naps suggests he might want to start taking his own advise. Still, he observes his duties, and wastes no time in joining Brennan at his table. Settling down on the cafeteria bench, Dema sets his large hands flat on the tabletop and looks across it at Brennan. Expectant. Not speaking until spoken to.
Which really, when you get down to it, it's refreshing. The lack of innane chittering, just getting down to business, dispensing with the unnecessary pleasantries. "I got a lost oniermancer. Disconnected from her body and wandering Dema. I want to know, if you know, how to get her back to her body, if we can even find her body" See, not all medical cases are physical. Some are more… temporal. Which means it requires more… unorthodox treatements.
Dema does not leap to conclusions, at least not in official capacities. The sombre Russian only furrows his brow ever so slightly. "It is possible I could do this. Help, maybe," he admits, though not without a sense of unspoken caveat inflecting his tone, "I would need to find her first. Out there." His hands lift from the table, creating opposing inclines, gesturing ever so slightly at the elsewhere of dreams, the heterogenous mindscape. "Who is she?"
"Her name is Delia Ryans. We should have a file on her somewhere here, she came in once. Manifested within the last year, oniermancy. I had a run in with her once before, she didn't seem to realize that she was doing it. Then the other night she was in a dream again. Didn't seem to know who she was, where she was, carrying a sword and a chess piece and asked for me to help her. She's lost, looking for something" Brennan shakes his head, looking down to his chili. "How would you find her, out there? If you can't do that, we can probably scour the registration database, or see if Luis has any thoughts. Maybe Julie has had the ability at some point."
A sword and a chess piece are more than enough of a bridge. No leaping is required. "I know this girl," Dema states, "not her name, though," though now he does - a Ryans - the world is very small, and the past continually reasserts itself in the present. "I can find her again. She leaves a trail. Without an anchor, she treads heavy." Quite a lot of certainty here. "Finding her body - this is harder. We do not know where it is now? It would be alive, but empty."
"That I don't know. I only just had this happen the other day. We have a name, we can supposedly find an address. her father is one Benjamin Ryans though, Dante says that he's a man on the run" It's quite possible the Ferry might know where she is, but he doesn't know how many of the Ferry are left.
'She could have been hurt in the riots. I'm thinking that we might want to start looking for Jane Does in the various hospitals, that have women in their late late teens, early 20's with red hair and have been unresponsive, see if we luck out that way" Brennan digs his spoon in for another bite. "I want your help to find her, and to help bring her back to her body if we can find it. This isn't good for her and this could turn into a far more worse issue that was about earlier in the year with another oniermancer"
Dema remembers his immediate superior fretting about something like that, in months now long past. Refrain and its links to some predatory dream walker. Enough has happened that the whole chain of events has taken a disjointed, photo album quality. Dema keeps his head down, tries not to get involved. Of course, he ends up getting involved nevertheless. "I will look for her again," Dema agrees, "this will take time. I may fail. But I will try. If you find her body, it will be easier. If I find her, hold her, I can bring her back myself. Until then, I will try to clear her path back. This is okay?"
"If you can. I'll talk with Luis, see what the institute has regarding Dreamwalkers, what we can do" They can't just let her wander out there, even if the three people now involved want to help her for their various reasons. "Is there anything that you need, that you'll need us to do to help you? I can arrange for you to be taken off the second floor shift and assigned to help me during this all"
Dema doesn't at first think of anything he might need. Had he not thought of those months past, of the events that transpired, those he bore witness to and was intimately involved with but (for better or for worse) received no credit for, his second thought might not have flared. "Amphodynamine," he says, "I may need. If she strays too far. But yes. I would like to help," a pause, "she is a good girl. Clumsy, but she should not have to die."
'Amp" He nods. Makes sense, boost his ability. "I'll see what I can do. I don't want her to die either." Maybe they make some kind of Faraday cage, for Dreamers. Keep her in it till.. well, till they can find her body. "I'll see what I can do, time to start putting our employer's resources to work hmm? What's the good in working for them if we can't use it"
Maybe because they can save you from being chewed up by your past associates. Maybe because this is the only thing you know how to do anymore. Maybe you actually don't know, you only took this gig at the insistence of your spectral, disembodied significant other. Dema doesn't give it a great deal of thought, actually. That kind of thinking leads, in his experience, to the deepest of doldrums. He just nods, yes, absolutely, whatever you say, doctor. "Something to prolong my sleeping," he suggests, keeping his concerns practical, "this will also help."
'That, Dema, was a given" He starts to gather up the remains of his meal, chili gone and the salad, just a little too limp for his liking. "Lets just hope that we don't have to go all inception on her hmmm?" Dreams, within dreams, within… well, Dema is sure to get the idea, if he's seen the movie.
He hasn't actually. Dema's a little out of touch. But he doesn't indicate as much. Just nods. Again. Easier than asking for clarification on what, he figures, is some joke Brennan is making. Which it is, just not one Dema gets. A joke about the crappy salad, that Dema might have been able to get on board for. Chances of him laughing, though? Still pretty slim. "Is that all, doctor?" Fun chat!
"That's all. I'll get back to you quick as I can" He offers the Russian. "Thank you Dema" That is all, dismissed, goodbye, from Russia with love. Brennan turns away from the table, heading for the cart where one deposits their trays, ready to head back up, sign off on paperwork and head on to his other job. All while thinking of how to save the poor lost oniermancer.