Maladies of the Rich and the Famous *FIN*

[Corrigan Blaine]

///// Corrigan Blaine

^{drayman estate - phoenix, arizona}
_{chapter one: prophecy}

There was nobody around at the moment. Corrigan took the opportunity to let all his frustrations out in the form of something hybrid of a growl and a sigh, and ended up being a bit louder with it than he intended. A heavy huff followed as he pushed himself up from the former position, laying lazily over his knee, propping himself up by his hand.

He leaned back and rubbed his eyes. He was doing a lot at this man's request, and he was definitely beginning to feel his rewards were due for being such a good boy, staying within tether distance and all that.

Waking up at 9 AM wasn't what he had in mind for a good time. Now he sat in the private room Dorsey had set aside for Corrigan's little 'chats' with Laila Roshan, another Archivist member with a perpetual need to help poor Corrigan, who was in such a sad state.

He wished people wouldn't worry so much about it. His eyes fluttered open once more as he leapt out of the quicksand of sleep pulling him away, even as he sat in the chair. To be fair, it was a damn comfortable chair, beige with a suede finish, and if furniture could be injected with pure clouds, Drayman had found it.

This caused him to squirm a bit, rubbing his hands over the arms of the chair as he looked around. Why couldn't they have waited until SHE was ready before waking him up? Then again, he needed to play it cool, so he took a deep breath and shut off his mind for the moment. Hell, why not even snooze, if it happens?

She'd be sure to wake him up on arrival if he did.

Damn those late night console game runs, he thought.

[Laila Roshan]

Laila wondered two things. First, why did the morning and all involved therein have to start at nine, and second, why couldn't she at least have given herself the chance to sleep in? Her morning was the product of a bad takeoff, but the blaring sound of her alarm clock was probably the greatest annoyance. By and far, things had gotten better once she tumbled out of bed, letting the cats take her place. It still felt too early, though.

Drayman Estate was the place, but she was no stranger to it-- in fact, since she wasn't by any means a professional, basically every counselling session she made was at the place. She wouldn't dare to practice psychology without a license anywhere outside the organization, yet most people sharing that field didn't have to deal with what Laila regularly faced. Perhaps, despite her limited education and experience the layman's standpoint, that set her own career apart.

She smiled to a few familiar ones she saw while walking the palatial estate's hallways, her long, peasant-style skirt swaying with every step, and she arrived at the room with minimal yawning-- again, proof that she could have slept in a few more hours. Laila only hoped that she was awake and alert enough to deal with what might happen.

She hadn't gotten far with Corrigan in the past two sessions or so, but she certainly had the patience to deal with the little project. In fact, where most counsellors (probably every other associated with the Archivists, for that matter) would have dreaded meeting with the boy, Laila felt neutral, like she couldn't expect the best or the worst.

Entering the room at last, she saw, among other things, Corrigan sitting on an overstuffed chair, and she smiled to the boy affably. "Hello, Cory." On the other hand, Laila saw that her closest option was a wooden armchair not far away, probably a far cry from the comfort the teenager's chair provided. She felt no great loss, though, since it would probably make it easier to focus on her task.

Taking off her rich, reddish-purple blazer and draping it on the back of the chair, she slid herself down its gently contoured seat with her notebook across her lap. In it, there were all her notes about the boy, the good and the bad, but certainly nothing she would divulge to anyone else without damn good reason. Sweeping her loose, dark hair away from her face, Laila tried to start the session with a simple, friendly question.

"How are you this morning?" From there, she could ascertain the best angle to approach. If he were cranky or cheerful, how she went about the meeting would make a world of difference.

[Corrigan Blaine]

///// Corrigan Blaine

^{drayman estate - phoenix, arizona}
_{chapter one: prophecy}

Corrigan's eyes were somewhat squinted at Laila as she arrived, but it was clear enough for her to see that he was squinting out the light. He looked like he had just had a fight with his alarm clock moments ago. Ready to speak his answer, he instead held up his finger as if telling her to hold on, and pulled in one huge yawn, rolling over onto his side and pulling one of the chair's pillows up to his head as he closed his eyes.

"...not much of a morning person..." he groaned a bit. At least Laila was fair to him. She seemed to treat Cory differently than some of the others did, such as Marc, Rosetta, half of the council... but he still wasn't sure about her. She was harder to read than most, for reasons he didn't get. Not just yet, anyways.

"So... I was raped and beaten by Mongolian warlords and sold to Arabian slavers. That's why I'm so fucked up in the head. Anything else you wanted to know?" he volunteered. It was obvious he wasn't into the whole 'therapy session' thing. Getting anything real out of him would turn out to be some work, and he was known for his sarcasm.

His eyes closed, and it was as if he was threatening to go to sleep then and there. In his mind, however, he wanted to provoke some kind of a reaction. Anything.

Something he could read or analyze. If he had to put up with this, among Dorsey's many requests and expectations of him, at least he would hope to get something out of it.

[Laila Roshan]

Laila could personally relate to not being a morning person, but she probably wasn't going to agree with him out loud. It was beside the point, anyway; the fact of the matter was, Corrigan wasn't going to make this easy, as was proven a little too easily by his absurdist statement about Mongols and Arabs that came straight out of left field.

Okay...

Though she did raise a curious eyebrow, Laila tried to keep her reaction minimal-- after all, most things like that were meant to elicit attention, good or bad. She certainly wasn't going to encourage him that way. It was neither the time nor the place. It was the reason why she gave mind to professionalism, legs crossed at the knee and her demeanor as tranquil as always.

Personally, she wondered if she would even have to take notes this time, since from the beginning, she hadn't the need to write down anything at all. If she flipped through its pages, she would probably find that she transcribed nothing of real importance toward Corrigan's well-being, because he had said and done nothing to open the proverbial book into his life.

Such a pity; he deserved the help he was rejecting so quickly. No one was beyond redemption in Laila's eyes, which was likely one of many things that kept her viewpoint on people so fresh. Her patience was a godsend, too.

Fortunately, experience had also armed her with knowledge, meaning that she had the slightest touch more of a clue into where she could take the session. On the off-chance that his quips veiled a deeper meaning, she was prepared for such.

While her response may have sounded trite, she knew where she was going with it. "Of course. But tell me," she looked up from her notebook to the lounging boy, "How did that make you feel?" She was craftier than her words made her seem.

[Corrigan Blaine]

///// Corrigan Blaine

^{drayman estate - phoenix, arizona}
_{chapter one: prophecy}

"It makes me sooo mad." he leaned forward, resting his chin over his thumbs as his fingers formed a pyramid that sheltered his face, "I'm just so mad at the world, and I hate everybody."

Okay, maybe this really would be difficult. He didn't seem remotely serious, but perhaps it was the idea of 'help' itself he couldn't take seriously. He began to lose himself in his thoughts, zoning out as he unwittingly seemed to be staring at Laila over the tips of his fingers. How many people had Dorsey asked to dig around in Cory's past? Well, not too many, so far, but enough for him to know how much he got under the skin of a number of them.

People didn't seem to like asking the same questions only to have them answered in the same irrelevant and deflective ways. He began to wonder about it, though... was there anything he felt alright about sharing? This one, Laila, seemed to be one of the nicest and most patient of them, but then again, they all started out nice during the first session.

"Can I ask some questions?" Cory perked up a bit, and looked to Laila, "Maybe if someone let me in on a few things, I might feel more comfortable." Now he seemed to be bartering for information, but it was progress, nonetheless. "I mean... first of all... what's the big deal with me? Why are they so protective of me? What are they protecting me from? I'm glad I got a place to stay, but I can't leave... that sucks... and lately I've been feeling really restless... I wanna get out, but the council just has to get into my past and learn shit about me..."

He shook his head a bit and sat back upright, then leaned back in the chair, reclining. She probably couldn't answer those questions, anyways, he thought.

[Laila Roshan]

Laila felt the sudden urge to be crafty, which wasn't all that rare.

After all, how else could she earn a living teaching piano when she literally had no college diploma in music, as did many tutors of the instrument? Once she showed off by playing Jules Massenet's Méditation with her eyes closed, it pretty much sealed the deal with any parent, until the occasional naysayer had to be silenced by requesting another piano piece, which Laila usually knew. This wasn't due to extraordinary piano talent or anything of the sort, of course, but a single girl had to make a living somehow. She couldn't handle the set-in-stone schedules most every other job had, and her ability gave her the upper hand anyway-- not that anyone (not even the other specials she knew) really ever examined too closely.

Cory was bombarding her with questions, each one noted with care, but she had to backtrack for the brief tinge of her plan to work out. Maybe she could make him realize how closely his obvious sarcasm was to the plain and simple truth-- and then there could be the token 'life lesson' thrown in for the heck of it, too. Teenagers always needed a ton of those, it seemed, since Laila herself was no exception at that age. Now that she thought about it, tapping her pencil eraser against her chin, he was about the age she was when her father was found dead...

...But there was also no sense dragging her feet in the past.

"Well, I could have told you that," she quietly uttered, her voice beginning to raise in a gentle crescendo. "You've been through a lot, and that's normal. But there's no need to drag down everyone else with you. It only makes your stay here at the estate even worse." Shrugging her shoulders, features nonchalant, she continued, "And Dorsey's only keeping you here because he cares." She neglected to mention specifics, but only because she herself was clueless as to Mr. Drayman's reasons for keeping Corrigan confined to the property.

"He cares about our people," Laila said, gesturing her hand to Corrigan and back at her chest. "People like you, and people like me. It's the reason he founded this organization, if I'm not mistaken," she ended, her eyebrow quirked and a smile on her face. Speaking from experience, the Archivists had helped Laila through those foregone days of indiscretion, and to that she owed her gratitude. She couldn't speak very personally for Corrigan, though.

[Corrigan Blaine]

///// Corrigan Blaine

^{drayman estate - phoenix, arizona}
_{chapter one: prophecy}

Leaning forward quietly and hugging his chest, he hung his head in thought for a quiet moment. "I care about our people..." he finally answered in a quiet voice, but before Laila could reply, he continued to speak, "The calling... now answered. The future of our world." he rambled a bit, his tone of voice seeming different, more serious, and strange.

"Now rising... we are the future, and when we all challenge death together, it will become obsolete before us..." he turned his eyes up as he uttered the last three words, sending a peculiar and unnerving look in her direction. "Have you seen the tablets?" he smiled, "We become gods."

Sitting upright, he laid back in the chair once more, kicking one leg up over the other knee as he crossed his arms behind his head and folded his arms, "So, if that is so... why does my past matter? How many memories do people survive on a daily basis?" he asked before letting a relaxing sigh escape him.

Who knew how she'd react, but Corrigan was prepared to observe that reaction.

[Laila Roshan]

Ah, so he was joking around again. Tapping her pencil softly against the rim of her notebook, she sat and listened to his little act, not so much as batting an eye at his latest little story. Sure, he seemed a touch more...serious about this one, but she couldn't be expected to trust that he had even ended the same tangent as before. Yes, the tablet was very much real and the entire basis for the foundation, but there were varying degrees of trust the Archivist members even sought in the thing. In all, whatever shred of importance came in his statement was something Laila classified as nonsense, along with the rest of it. It was creepy, but again, it was meant to get a rise out of her.

'Gods' could mean anything, and Laila herself thought it was some kind of metaphor for enlightenment sought by helping other people. It left a good feeling in her heart at the end of the day, that was for sure. Would it be the same for Corrigan that morning, though? Time would tell, but if he kept stalling with fanciful stories, there was no guarantee she wouldn't need to sit back and unwind for a few hours after the session. Once she thought on it, a nap did sound pretty nice, but there was work to be done. Accursed early meetings. Maybe next time, she'd learn to set it up in the afternoon, if anything. Cory himself didn't seem to pleased either, but that could be for a number of reasons-- and tiredness was probably the least of his worries.

"Your past matters," Laila said, "To Dorsey, it does. He cares about you, and he wants to help. It's why he sent me to you." Though she smiled, she was sure that statement sounded very, very general, like she could have said it to anyone and it could still apply. She'd have to be more selective with her words next time, she thought. "You can't learn to be happy until you know yourself better. Go through," she gestured, her hand twirling as if to draw relevance from thin air, "Soul-searching, if you will."

[Corrigan Blaine]

///// Corrigan Blaine

^{drayman estate - phoenix, arizona}
_{chapter one: prophecy}

Cory hung his head.

He seemed momentarily defeated by what she had just said, but looked up at her with a wide-eyed expression, as if speaking to a child, "You just don't get it..." he sutbly shook his head, clasping his hands together in his lap as he leaned back. He paused for a moment, forming his words together in his mind as he continued to subtly shake his head at her. When he was ready to speak, he waved his right hand up in front of him as he leaned up a bit, "I got that shit out of the way already. I don't need to search for any more of me. I got that."

"Things are gonna change. Everything, the world as we know it..." he whirled his finger around with lazy indication to the world itself, "The ones who figure out the new system first will be the ones who survive to become something more." he tried to explain, but stopped. Leaning back in his chair, he turned his head to the side, focusing on nothing in particular, "Most of the world though... is pretty much fucked..." he added, in a quiet, serious sort of tone that sounded, even, a little sad.

[Laila Roshan]

Of course! If he tried to derail the entire topic once before, why would she expect him not to try again? Should she have been blessed with the ability to control minds, God help her...she'd probably have mentally talked herself out of it. Seriously. Laila wasn't going to abuse her powers just to prove her point-- she doubted she would even do that if she was capable of greater mental manipulation anyway. However, that was a history forever left unexplored.

...And the here and now was completely different, though, and she wasn't inclined to let Corrigan skew the proverbial crosshairs far from the target. If he wanted to theorize about the prophecies and whatnot (which was interesting enough to interpret on its own, with the proper context and all), it would be at a later date. "Corrigan," Laila spoke up, though her voice couldn't bother to seem stern. "We've already talked about this. The death of a parent..."

She started caressing a strand of hair between her fingers. "The death of your mother is not 'that shit' that you can cast aside. It takes time to accept...and to grieve. If you keep treating the matter that way, you won't get better." She had enough experience with counseling to know someone, especially a moody teenager like him, wouldn't bounce back from such a great blow after a year-- and really, spending that time on the streets was hardly the best way for a young mind to cope.

It had been for a few minutes that a feeling in the back of her mind told her to take a different approach, which would perhaps make the whole session much more bearable. Prodding and prying, and in her own way, telling him he was wrong wouldn't win him over, but for the present and the times to follow, she could lay some decent groundwork, stretching a friendly sky overhead.

"Alright, Cory." Laila laid her pencel between the folds of her notebook pages, which was closed on her lap. "The tablets are important to us as an organization," she waved her hand in a circle around face-level, "But you've learned much, I see." Apparently, his boredom wasn't too poorly-spent. "What's made you believe everything you've said?" Laila had about a fifty-fifty chance he was even being sincere, but she didn't care much.

[Corrigan Blaine]

///// Corrigan Blaine

^{drayman estate - phoenix, arizona}
_{chapter one: prophecy}

Leaning up in his seat, Cory put his fingers together calmly, looking to Laila with a sort of sagely expression on his face, "It is the truth. I know it to be so..." he said crisply, realizing she wasn't taking him seriously. Then again, why would she? She was one of them. This one held firmly to what she had been taught, the 'reality' that had been explained to her throughout her life. Pulling her into his own teachings would likely be damn-near impossible. Realizing this, after testing her a bit, he wasn't sure exactly how things would play out, but he began to wonder if she'd someday be an obstacle to the great change...

It seemed he was a bit lost in his thoughts once again, when he inhaled deeply and leaned back again, "Besides, the thing you and so many others don't realize is that death is really no big deal. True death is stagnation, doing nothing... to fail to make the leap to the next tier of existence when the time comes, that is death. Until then, to die for a cause will only bring you back, if it is the charge of your soul to move on to the next level..."

Now, that sounded like madness. He smiled a bit, a creepy sort of smile, and wondered what she'd have to say to his words. "Opportunity will come for all of us, Laila. For every one of us the chance... to become a part of something greater than we can see or here in the present state of our race."