The Home

“Okay, Abby. First meeting! Aren't you excited? Is everything ready? Chairs in place? Refreshments set up in the kitchen? Fail-safes up? Yes, yes, yes, yes, and check!”

Fretting terribly and fluttering around the library, Abigail double checked that the room was all ready for the home's first group meeting. The mis-matched but comfy arm chairs were pulled into a wide circle that spanned most of the room. The library's small tables and accompanying lamps were off to the side, pushed up against the walls and just under a couple of the heavily draped windows. The light's setting was on high to combat the dark wood and paint that covered most of the floors and wall.

Just outside the doors, the residents gathered around Rocio as she led them down the hall to the library's entrance.

“If everyone can just follow me, please,” she directed with a wave of her hands. She pushed the heavy oak doors open, spying Abigail fussing over the angle of a chair. “Abby?”

Abigail's head popped up and her hands flitted to her clothes, straightening out the front of her t-shirt and dusting off her skirt. A wide smile fit itself across her face and she beamed brightly at the approaching group.

“Hello, everyone. Thank you all for coming here to our first group session. Please, sit.”

Standing behind a suede upholstered chair, Abby flashed Rocio a cheerful thumbs up and watched as the other guests choose their place. Once everyone was seated, she dropped into her own chair and clasped her hands together in front of her.

“I'd first like to apologize to anyone who may have had trouble fitting this meeting into your schedule. I know for some of us it's still a little early, but I promise we've taken all necessary precautions to ensure that those who need it are completely protected from the sun and other daytime annoyances. If this time-frame doesn't work for you, please feel free to let me know and we can try to re-schedule our meetings to something that will better suit you.

"Let's begin with quick introductions. I'll go first. I'm Dr. Abigail Peston (you can just call me Abby) and I'll be leading our first meeting. I'm here to help you talk about some of your issues and hopefully we, as a group, can help each other work through them. Who'd like to go next? How about you, sir?”

“Figures. Pick the oldest guy here to go first. Well, name's Max. Maxwell Alchemy, if you want to get technical about it. Immortal. Witch. Nothing much to say but I got my ancestors screaming inside my head twenty-four seven. Some people say I need to be here to learn to control the voices so I don't go crazy with my magic mojo, but if anything, I'm here for the free food.”

Tilting her head, eyes still on Maxwell, Abby whispered privately to Rocio, “Please keep an eye on Mr. Maxwell, yeah?” Turning back to the group and addressing Maxwell himself, she said, “It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Max. A great welcome to you and your -uh- guests. That does sound interesting and hopefully we'll be able to help you here. Just for clarification's sake, your voice is still the loudest, yeah? That is to say, you're still in charge?"

With a smirk forming on his lips, he crossed his arms. “Depends on who you ask.” Feeling the room's eyes on him, he chuckled. “Joking. No. I haven't gone completely mental. I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Standing from her seat, slightly startling Abby, Rocio waved, gaining the attention of the group. “Hello, I'm Rocio Ryland and I will be serving as a therapist here. If anyone wants to speak in private just let me know, and I can schedule an appointment with you in my office. My door is always open to every tenant here, so please feel free to visit at any time.”

She looked among the small group in the room, and smiled weakly. “And, uh...a little about myself is that I am actually a Reaper, so I know a thing or two about death and grief and anger.” With that, she took her seat, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back into the chair.

“Thank you, Rocio, for that...exuberant introduction. I know your unique experience and perspective will no doubt be helpful to the group.” Abby looked quickly around the room, patient smile and flat eyes never faltering. “Would anyone else like to say a word or two?”

“Greetings!" a wildly bearded, older man stood. "I am Blyme Brodim, heir to the Brodim bloodline, and divine god!" He raised his arms up dramatically, causing sparks to fly from his fingertips. "You have no need to fear me, for although my power is strong, I mean none of you harm unless you call upon my wrath.”

As Blyme sat back into his seat, a young man looked nervously around. Figuring it was as good a' time as any to speak up, he started, “Um, I'm Shep and the doctors call my condition 'Multiple Personality Disorder' but if you wanna be technical about it, I'm basically possessed. Sound crazy? Tell me about it.”

As he spoke, Abby discreetly stomped out a small fire that had ignited at the edge of her skirt, looking disapprovingly at Blyme. Quickly unfurrowing her brows and letting out a quiet huff of indignation, she returned to her calm facade and spoke again. “Well, it's very nice meeting you both. If you don't mind, Mr. Blyme, I'll have to ask you to keep the sparks to a minimum. There are many things in this room that are very much flammable and we really are quite out of the way of the local fire department.”

She turned minutely to Shepherd and leaned forward to place her hand on his. “And Mr. Shep, we really don't like to use words such as 'crazy' and 'possessed' during group sessions. They do seem a little judgmental, don't you think? Yes, of course, so if you could please...”

With a soft pat to his knee, she turned back to the group. “Mr. West? Ms. Hartsong? Would you like to say a word before we dig in?”

Casting a quick glance around the room, the soulful vampiress rose from her chair, looking as bored as she could be, while chewing her gum. She fixed her black dress, pulling the sides down, looking totally uninterested in the beings around her and the place as well. Once pleased with the way her short dress hugged her bum, she said, "I am Mariaxielle - Rogue Hartsong, and you can call me 'Rogue.' Only the members of my family tent to call me Mariaxielle, though I hate that name, so you better be careful on how you choose to call me.''

She smirked, pushing her long raven hair behind, letting it fall against her back as she continued. "I am the sole daughter of the Hartsong family. In case you didn't know, we are all vampires but I am a spellcaster as well. I was sent here to learn to better co-exist with fellow vampires. Apparently, I must resist certain urges, like feeding off male vampires and using spells to kill off any female vampires that may get in my way. It seems like the only vampire I love is... well, me,'' and with that she sat down, crossing her legs at the knee, and keeping up her air of disinterest.

"Ha!" Rollin, the only other member who hadn't introduce himself yet, couldn't help but snort at the mention of the vampire's name, "That's funny, seeing as I actually am a rogue." He leaned back against the chair, and crossed his muscled arms. He though this whole thing was stupid, but after riding backseat to his wolf for four years, he'd developed a few issues of his own. He had a temper that wasn't he wasn't quite ready to unleash outside of the woods and now, after every shift, he couldn't remember a single thing he'd done while in his wolf form.

A silent moment passed before he sighed, running a rough hand through his hair. "Fine. My name is Rollin. I was a wild animal for a while, and when I stole these clothes..." he nodded to his covered body with a shrug, "I heard somebody mention something about a 'home' of sorts that can help with...whatever." His lifted his arms, and with a mocking smile, he looked around the room, "And here I am."

'Rollin...what kind of name was that,' the vampiress thought, admiring her well-manicured, black nails. It wasn't just the name though; Rollin was a wolf. Wolves and vampires weren't exactly on the best of terms, not in the past and certainly not in the present. 'Be patient, Rogue. You don't want to end up like your parents,' she reminded herself, trying hard to suppress the compulsion to slip into battle-mode. The last thing she wanted was to start a fight during the first group session. Of course, sharing a space with a wolf wasn't the only thing that put her in a mood. The day was young and the schedule of this meeting was putting a serious kink in her sleep time. She really didn't care how these sessions went. She'd have to deal with her problems on her own anyway. She certainly wasn't the type to accept the help of others.

As the silence in the room drifted heavily into the air, Maxwell leaned forward in his chair and scanned the room, eyeing the various people before him. He couldn't help but let his annoyance at being at the Home pick at him. He'd lived through a century for this? To be part of some self-help program with a bunch of souls as broken as he was. It was absolutely pathetic, but there was no stopping it. He was already here.

Chuckling to himself in disapproval, he pushed back into his chair and crossed his arms over his leather jacket, his eyes landing on Dr. Peston. As her eyes shifted to him, he shook his head and smirked. "So, what's next? You cure us? Make us better people? Do we cry on each others' shoulders and say I'm with you, pal?" He paused, looking over at Rogue, pointing a slender finger at her and speaking in a mocking tone. "I don't know about you, but Mariaxielle over there has killed before and I'm pretty picky about whose shoulders I cry on."

Rocio stared at Maxwell curiously for a moment. She knew that bitter pill he was swallowing; she'd seen it many times. At first she wanted to remain quiet, but the way he spoke irked her. His personality was definitely a strong one.

"Mr. Alchemy," Rocio said calmly, but firmly. "You're mistaken, there is nothing to cure here. There is nothing wrong with you or anyone else here. We're here simply to know that one, we are not alone, and two we can lead normal lives. I understand that might sound odd and pretentious, but what is the real reason any of you have come here?"

Her eyes slowly drifted among the many different faces in the room, wondering if anyone would answer.