Vesania Asylum

Ah, the familiar sounds of two large reinforced doors slamming shut behind her. Of course followed by a subsequent loud boom, that echoed from the walls and down the halls of this gloomy complex.
It reminded Katrya of a lot of things. Firstly of how it sounded when she'd took justice into her own hands one night, and smashed a thugs skull in against a door just like the one she'd entered through.
Secondly, it reminded her of the cell door closing sharply in her face when she'd be locked up by the police. She'd been a very lucky girl. Anyone else would have seen extensive jail time for her whole list of crimes. Arson, multiple counts of murder, assault, and destruction of property. Oh, and theft.
If she had not been a child of the Serbian mob, she'd have been sent straight to prison. But her godfather was good. Real good. And he'd paid a /lot/ to make sure Kat's insanity plea was weighed in her favour.

So. Now she was here, just waiting... Standing in the foyer, looming there like some ghost of her past self.

Already in the foyer upon Katyra’s entrance was a uniformed officer, standing idly by the reception desk and discussing something over paperwork with a nurse. Beside him, a youthful looking maiden stood in silence. She swayed lightly in her stance, as if a gentle breeze was pulling her. The officer’s jacket was wrapped around her slender frame, concealing the nude body beneath, though her shapely, bare legs may have left little to the imagination. 

She was dirty, filthy perhaps. Dried mud crusting her feet and calves, some splattered and smeared up her creamy, pale thighs. Her fingernails were blackened with soil and grime. Her lengthy, dark tendrils of hair were slightly matted, bits of mosses and leaves sticking out of the sea here and there. Mild scratches and scrapes laced her pasty skin with muted pinks and reds, while small bruises blossomed in pastel blues and greens. 

Her ghostly gaze was situated on the officer and nurse who were conversing, about her, she could assume. She’d catch bits and pieces, ”yeah, up in the mountains”, “living out in the forest”, and lots of “I have no idea...”s, but she wasn’t really paying much thought. At one point, the nurse exclaimed, “but it’s been almost five weeks!”, in hushed astonishment. 

“Jenkins is the old farmer who owns the land across the pass to the North, he called in to report spotting an unknown female eatin’ fish out’ta his crick yesterday mornin’,” the officer continued to explain, though his voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned further over her desk to go on.

The girl’s attention leisurely slipped away entirely from the conversation, washing over the all too familiar Foyer room while she struggled to accept that she was once again confined within the bowels of Vesania. On their journey around, her eyes landed on Katyra. A dainty hand emerged from the oversized jacket that hung around her. Slender finger tips slowly wiggled at Katyra, in a greeting. Something about tinged with a sinister feel.

Katrya looks up from her shoes and it almost seems that this girl has appeared from nowhere? Either that, or she obviously wasn't paying as much attention to her surroundings. For now Katrya was in her normal casuals, but she figured soon she'd be forced to wear some crappy jumpsuit at least. This girl? She looked like she didn't have anything on under that coat.

Stepping forward, Katrya goes to approach the girl but the guard seems to jump straight into her direction and block her from standing there.

"Hey! Fuck you! I'm tryna talk to the hippie!" The Serbian snarls, backing off and standing her ground a few steps back from the other girl, annoyed.

(Double posted somehow. Sorry! Dsiregard.)

A hint of a smile played on the lips of the muddied girl, at the outburst from the chocolate haired resident. Her hand slowly slid back inside the cover of the jacket, her eyes flickering from the guard back to Katrya.

"You can't be so direct," Moll softly called to the female, her voice tracing with muddled notes of some Nordic accent. "Quiet and slow is key, here. You have to creep under the noses, like some little crawly, you won't get anywhere marching around so brazenly."

The feral looking things words were spoken with a confidence, as if it were fact, not merely the spouting of some moss laden asylum patient.

The guard glared at Moll and barked, "zip it!"

Katrya was all for being confrontational towards the guard because she knew she would probably be able to fight him and win. But this /thing/, whatever it was... It had a good idea. It obviously had some kind of sense too as it had watched Kat's reaction.
The Serbian quietened down and backstepped some more.

"Alright, alright. No need to take it out on the hippy. It's my fault. I'm sorry."

Of course she wasn't but maybe saying she was would help the situation at least.
Cocking her head to the side, she nods at the girl again.

"Hey, Hippy. Why are you here?"

Moll watched as the officer she'd been escorted by signed the last signature slip authorizing her release back into the custody of Vesania. Then, her eerily pale eyes wandered back to Kat, something strange reflecting in their depths. Confrontation seemed to be the newcomers forte, which would prove to be interesting, Moll was certain.

Another smile bloomed over her mouth, this one spreading further than the last, prompted by Katrya's blatant boldness.

"Why," Moll repeated through the fresh grin, "because I simply am mad," she sang the words like a nursery rhyme. She spun around on the soles of her dirt stained feet, the jacket flaring around her like a ball gown. "Mad, simply mad," she continued in a sing-song style. "Just a loon, a little loon."

"C'mon, Mary, lets get you to the showers," the guard commanded, taking Molls left elbow into his grip. "You smell like wet dog," he grumbled, beginning to drag her away into the labyrinth of asylum halls.

"And I thought they didn't make 'em like you anymore... Usually it's something in the past that triggers it, but you? You're just a crazy, aren't you? The type of crazy that's too fucking happy about it."

Katrya complains, with a shake of her head. Seems that this girl would look nice in Arkham asylum, next Harley and a bunch of other thugish freaks.
She would have looked even better if she was clean. Not that Katrya was interested in /that/ way.
But the dirt was that a thing that only some small amount of loonies seemed to pull off so well. A little niche group, maybe.

"Hey, hey! Hippy! Don't forget about me, yeah!? I'll see you inside, we'll have a lotta fucking fun here!"

Katrya shouts boldy with a underlining laugh and a side smirk.

"Make sure you wash your hair! It's greasy as fuck!" She follows up with and then proceeds to tap and tap her foot.

"I want a doctor man. Where's my doc, or therapist or something?"

Moll merely shrugged a bare shoulder seductively, which had slipped free of the drooping jacket, in response to Kat's claims. What had gotten her here, was living the only way she'd known how to live, and others deciding that it was wrong. Once someone else decided that you were crazy, it was dreadfully difficult to untangle yourself from such a tether.

Katrya's hollering echoed after Moll as she was guided by the guard out of the foyer room. She couldn't help but smirk just a touch.

"You don't seem like the type to fear a little grease, now don't tell me you are squeamish," she taunted over her shoulder while being pulled away. "I'll be seeing you around," was her final farewell, once again wiggling the tips of her slender fingers towards Katrya.

With that, she disappeared from sight, leaving only her songs of lunacy drifting in the open air behind her as she continued to sing down the halls. Her lyrics may have been light and silly, singing about little loons drifting aimlessly under the moon, but her voice was hauntingly beautiful. The type that catches the mind like a nasty, little hook.

She walks in the foyer. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was unaware there were so many in the waiting room." She tucks a pencil behind her ear and places a clipboard in her pocket. "So, may I have your name so we can get you into a room? I'm not technically your doctor, but I will help you if you need it." She says as she looks at the woman in front of her. "Any requests that can reasonably do for you?" She asks with a serious gaze.

Rémy then walked in looked a bit tired,” my apologies for taking so long! I was busy with another patient” he said and looked to Alyson with a small smile,” morning Mrs Alyson”