slightlyoffchilt | - IC CONTACT POST FOR MASKORMENACE -

Narnia?

[Now, while Chilton might not have been a devoted C.S. Lewis fanboy, he was indeed familiar with the fantastical texts penned by that Oxfordian. One didn't throw around a Narnia reference in this day and age only to expect a chorus of crickets. Chilton regarded Lucy pensively, his careful gaze gliding over her facial features.

It wasn't an impossibility. Rarely anything was an impossibility in this universe -- much to his distaste.]

Ms. Pevensie, a pleasure to meet you. Is that an appropriate title, or would you rather I refer to you as something else? [No need to stagger out upon the wrong foot.] I am a doctor, yes. Of psychiatry -- mental health, you see.

It appears to be an inconsistent science across worlds.

No, Ms. Pevensie suffices.

[She's glowing again, because there is something that's pleasant, for a reason she can't quite pinpoint, about not being referred to as your majesty. It's not that she does not enjoy being a queen, because she does, but once in a while it's lovely to speak to people and feel quite normal about it.]

Mental health-

[This takes her a moment.]

I cannot imagine your meaning. I'm sorry.

[And she is. It's just that Lucy does not know, and even if she thought about it, she would think they are illnesses of the heart or the spirit, not the head.]

Ah. [Chilton glanced around, relenting back onto more medieval descriptions of mental illness.] Madness, to an extent -- a disturbance between the bodily humours. I mean, in a sense, that parallel -- unscientific as it was -- is an apt metaphor. Behavioral and cognitive complication can derive from a chemical imbalance, you see.

[He winced at the word chemical, already fearing the need to explain deeper context.]

Does that clarify at all?

[It would not have occurred to Chilton, a profound atheist, to employ a concept like spiritual angst to describe, say, depression.]

[She gets the very very distinct feeling that Edmund would latch onto this very quickly. But she takes a moment, to think about it.]

You mean you treat...the heart.

[Pause-]

Or the spirit.

[See the translation flows both ways.]

Isn't madness in the spirit, sir?

That isn't precisely -- [Chilton made a face, his mouth dragging at the left corner, as if internally chiding himself. He wasn't a teacher, and he didn't enjoy the nuance of lecture outside his acclaimed academic circles; Chilton spoke to impress, not to educate. He didn't think his efforts would suit either of them, were he to engage in length on the concept of what psychiatry was.]

It's close enough, yes. [He offered a smile, at least. She was poised and lovely, and that was deserving of kinder reaction -- he thought.] And it seems there's something of a need. As imPorts, we are... Strained in spirit. It can be a difficult journey for some, coming into this world.

Not to mention there's beings like Lucifer hanging out. If that isn't traumatic, I must question the definition of trauma.

I have not met Lucifer.

[Well, this Lucifer. She doesn't really know what that means, either. She looks around a bit, over at her cart of things.]

Would you suggest your services to anyone?

[She's being polite, because she certainly doesn't think she needs them, although she has had odd dreams lately-]

Do you know much about dreams?

My advice? Ensure that such remains your status quo. [Said the man who had flirted with making a bedeviled deal. But Chilton was easily preachy in his words, and less so in his actions.]

I would, in fact. [Her question lit up his gaze. Self-promotion was always something desired.] And -- yes, I have studied the science of sleep, and the neurological theories of dreams. You might say I've had quite a lot of personal experience in the matter. [Chilton had to restrain his tone, which would have come out somewhat wry; between his tenure as the dream-sick Pestilence and his momentary loss of sanity associated with some self-delusion of becoming a Dream God, this was a pattern he had to accept.]

Have you been suffering a bout of nightmares?

[She presses her lips together a little, and considers it. She doesn't have to tell him everything, does she? Like how she has memories that make no sense at all, or that she knew how to ride a bike without ever seeing one before in her entire life.

She just needs to tell him about the dreams, if he can make them go away, she would be most grateful.]

I cannot sleep a night through anymore. I have moved away from the city, hoping it would help, to not have the noise and the light-

[But it hasn't helped.]

I see. [Raina had suffered a similar problem, shortly after her brief exit. Her insomnia was a result of her fear to sleep, for the sake of her dreams -- prophecies, as they both later learned. Chilton's sedative touch had calmed her inability to rest peaceably, and the psychiatrist imagined that if Lucy suffered something similar, he could be of service.]

Was this not a problem that you had before? In... Narnia? [A beat. It took a little time getting used to, at least when speaking the name.] Is your discomfort power-related?

My powers are healing and the ability to create light.

[She frowns a little.]

I do not think nightmares are something included.

[She catches that pause, but then, she thinks it's a foreign word, a strange place he may never have heard of (not that there are books.)]

No, I slept easily and well, even on the eve of war.

Then this is likely something purely psychological -- without the interference of additional, external variables, I mean.

[Which made the endeavor all the more fascinating. While power was a source of intrigue to Chilton, he appreciated the purity of a besieged mind -- as he would phrase it, anyway.]

Your transition to this world -- that must have been strenuous. Have you made many acquaintances?

I have! I have dear friends who take quite good care of me. I live in a beautiful place.

[She tilts her head a little.]

I do miss my family, if I think on it too hard, but they are not in these nightmares.

So -- [He glanced around, clearly hesitant to commit such serious conversation within such an exposed area.] While I would be happy to listen to the details of your nightmares, Lucy, I'm quite sure this isn't the best environment for such sensitive information.

I happen to have the after free, if you would rather discuss in some area more enclosed?

Oh-

[She looks around - no one is around them but he does have a point.]

Yes, yes, I think that would suffice!

Walk with me.

[A command, even if spoken in his gentle, clinical tone.]

There's a patch of park not too far from here -- I suppose they accessorized well, with the gardening commercialism. [Something of a wry observation, at least he thought so.]

That might be an appropriate place, for the time being.

[He didn't speak to the matter until the were assuredly out of earshot of any other individual, and while he spent a few precious seconds scanning for some park bench, Chilton would continue:]

Why don't you describe the detail of these nightmares for me?

[She does, then, she follows. For doctors, she does not get bothered with commands as long as they are politely said. Once they arrive, she settles and sits, and looks at the park for a moment.]

I fear I do not have the appropriate vocabulary to describe it. But there are great birds, red and black, and they carry stones. Only the stones are not stones, but enormous firey masses that destroy everything in sight.

And I am small, and I try to hide, but I cannot find a place, or anyone to hide with.

[She pauses a moment.]

Other times I'm traveling in the belly of a great snake, but I am not afraid of it. I am, instead, fearing my arrival in a strange place.

These nightmares are very common. And if the horns of the emergency, ah-

Firefighters? [Said as an unfamiliar word] play, then, then they are worse.

[A few images struck out, like lightning from darkened, obscured clouds: birds, red, black, stones, fire, destruction, snake.]

Sirens.

[He offered, filling in the detail that she had so gently sought. Chilton folded his hands behind his back, taking into consideration the emotion she was describing. It was so highly fortunate for him that one didn't have to be empathetic to be able to analyze emotion -- of course, because of his shortened emotional connectivity, Chilton so deeply relied on cognitive analysis.

But dreams didn't always make sense.]

That speaks of dread to me. Birds are often employed as prophetic in literature, that sort of narrative seeps into our cognitive rationalization. From what you've described, you seem to feel anticipation. Anxiety. But not outright panic.

But I do not fear birds, you know.

[She bunches her shoulders up a bit.]

I fear many things, but I have always been known to face those things, but here it is as though there is a fear I cannot see, and I do not know how to confront it.

But yes. Dread is a great part of it. As though something is coming for us, and we are simply awaiting for it to kill us.

Are you very used to experiencing dread? Do you have established coping mechanisms already?

[Even without the specific science of psychology, Chilton figured that those native to Narnia were survivalists like anyone else.]

I ask because those may not apply any longer -- at the very least, any prior techniques have seemed to lost potency. These nightmares are clearly disturbing to you.

No. I experience fear, like any other person, but dread is another beast.

[Why would she? She's protected and cared for, and even war is just a thing, not something to dread.]

I fear that they are not just dreams.

It is possible that you have premonition abilities -- perhaps a side effect of your natural talents, perhaps from the influence of another imPort. [Or...] Or perhaps you are suffering from something steadfastly within my realm of medicine.

There are plenty of sleep somatic disorders.

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