All In Your Head (TheNerd & Treasure)

Oh.. she was back already... and with what looked like fresh lemonade... How was he supposed to pick on this?? Damien took the chalice and took a sip. And it tasted great, too. He sighed softly and set it on the tiny bedside table before ignoring Celia. No thank you, no mention of how good it was, nothing. Just stone, cold silence.
 
Celia could sense he liked it, so she smiled. "Just the way you like it, eh?" she said sweetly. Her voice wasn't nearly as annoying this time. Her tone was soft, like a mother's, but not nearly as severe as his mother's.
 
"Assumptions make an ass out of you and me," Damien said without looking at her or mincing his words. Most women would gasp at his brash language, and many men would frown.
 
"They may, but only when you have bad intentions," Celia replied, completely unfazed by the language. She'd grown up around rather vulgar language, and hearing it was certainly not rare for her.
 
"Not necessarilly," Damien corrected midly. He turned his attention away from here and picked up a notebook. It had originally been intended to be a diary - his sister's diary that he eventually took because she never used it - but he had long since repurposed it. It was now his mathamatics journal, and it got a lot more use than it would have had it stayed true to its original purpose. He was careful to never write anything too important in it in case it ever fell into the wrong hands, but it was useful to help him work out the smaller sections of the equation he was working on.
 
Celia then just quietly stood there, just in case there was another order or another episode to quell. She looked at her locket watch, seeing as it nearing time for him to take his medicine. She looked in disdain at the tincture she was given by the doctor, as she knew whatever was in that sad little bottle wouldn't suffice by a long shot, as the pills were mercury pills, and the stuff in the tincture was yet another deadly chemical. No wonder both medications were secretly refused earlier, she thought.

She proceeded to take her pack and start rummaging through it, only to find one medication bound to work instead of the doctor's: her own safe one. A tiny, but mighty little bottle of white tablets prescribed by her own doctor back home for delusional anxiety and depression. That was something she managed to hide for many years, that she herself was mentally ill. It was barely noticable, and while it was a bit incriminating for her, she should be able to cover it up by pulling out some lavender oil with it. Thankfully, she had some, so she pulled that out as well.
 
"Don't even think about it," Damien said without looking up from his journal. "There is no way on this earth I am going to take anything you give me. You can tell my mother and my doctor that I didn't take it if you want, I do not care. I am not taking it." He added a symbol and gave the page a minute to dry before turning it to a new, blank page.
 
"Suit yourself," Celia said. "I can understand the abhorrence of taking pills to be okay against your will. My family didn't exactly believe in such things, but I frankly don't mind it as long as I'm not forced to become addicted."

She put the medicine away, then pulled out a notebook of sorts, and started to write down her own notes. What was still odd is that she still seemed calm, like the most patient woman to ever exist. Nothing affected her; not arrogance, not feigning aggression, not even bad language. It seemed inhuman how she managed all of it, but maybe she was just that optimistic.
 
"Perhaps you should have become addicted. That might have made you more tolerable to be around," came Damien's snarky reply. "Then again, maybe you are addicted, and that is why you are such an insufferable beast. What addict admits to being addicted? You certainly would not, because then you would have no job here."
 
That comment was enough for Celia to start to turn to her only other option: anger. Her thoughts whirled in her head at the word "beast". He thought he could call her a lowly beast....she'd show him, she thought. Of course, she'd need to take it elsewhere, but right now, he would need to take his fear out.

"Then perhaps you're a masochist," she retorted, not realizing what she said. "You bottle up the pain like it's something you need to do or you'd literally die from strangulation on the spot. It's not like I'll blabber anything you say to everyone, everything is safe with me."
 
"Oh, such pretty words from a complete stranger who, as far as I know, lied about her history to my sister in order to get a job," Damien said blandly. "You probably thought it was going to be a wonderfully cushy job, didn't you? Look after the imbecilic blue blood and make certain he doesn't hurt himself while helping yourself to the larder and perhaps a few things you can sell. Easy, isn't it? And if you happen to get a few great, humiliating stories about the gentry, all the better!" He flicked his fingers at her dismissively. "Go on, continue making your notes. I am sure this will make a charming story to tell someone later." He picked up his pen again and continued his work.
 
This angered her more. He assumed she was a filthy charlatan....once bitten, twice shy, she thought. She hated the fact that she was forced to lie to get her way in the world after being forced into this by her alpha, who wanted to make peace with this seemingly hopeless world. She just wanted to help others without all the pain from before, and now it was time to show her true feelings about all of the misery she went through.

"If that's what you really think, let me prove you wrong!" she shouted. "I've helped you ungrateful little excuses of humans for years, and this is how you repay me?! If I would've known better, I would've just...just..!"
 
"Just taken the hint that your 'help' is not wanted and left us alone?" Damien said mildly. He looked up at her with a smirk. "Wow. You are really bad at this if that's Arellano it takes to flip your lid. I would have thought you'd be a lot tougher. You made such a show of being the patient nurse. Nice to see that you are consistent." He looked down at his book. "A consistent sham."
 
Celia made a grimace of anguish, closing her eyes. Her fist was balled up, and she looked just about ready to hit him. The act of expressing that kind of anger alone was extremely incriminating, as no woman, especially not someone of her stature, had the audacity to even think of hitting a man taller than her. This attitude was giving away something, not just her mental state, but something Celia had initially feared she'd give away: her identity. She was growling under her breath, desperately trying to control the unforgiving beast inside. She was also trying not to straight transform into an angel, either. After a second of near primal anger, she took a deep breath, and calmed straight down, surprisingly. She then looked at him with a solemn expression and said, "A sham I may be, but your family is annoyingly more of one, it seems. A father absent and rejecting you, a mother who seems to only care for herself, the milk drinkers of maids....you had it all. A classic set up for a smart, yet arrogant madman. I only offered an escape from that, and you treat me like the scum of your shoe, almost expectantly waiting for me to run off. Again, I'm not leaving. I see the kind of help you need, and you refuse. I'll stay until you stop refusing anymore. I'll stay until you realize what you're doing to yourself is wrong. I'll stay until you pass away, if need be."

She didn't even know what she said by then.
 
Damien closed his book and sat up, his eyes cold. "You know nothing," he said softly. "Your ignorance is underscored by your statements of my family, you bottom-dwelling hag. If you ever say anything like that again, I will see to it you pay. I may not have much influence, but I have enough to make your life a living hell. You say you offer me an escape?" He barked out a harsh laugh. "You stupid witch. You offer me nothing but a headache. You have no idea what kind of help I need." He stood and turned his back on her. "Get out. If you chose to stay, you will regret it."
 
Celia just stood there like a statue, as if she were waiting for someone to hit her. She'd expected him to try this again. She wasn't leaving, even if it meant abusing herself over something like this.
 
Damien kept his back to Celia, completely ignoring her for the next hour. He moved around his room, doing this and that, but he never once glanced at her. It was like she no longer existed. He didn't care what she did now, but he'd never like her, and he would certainly never trust her or anyone else who spoke that way about his family.
 
Celia still stood there, stony expression still on her face. She didn't care, as she still wanted to help, and she was starting to feel heavy remorse for her reckless actions. She knew in the back of her mind she thoroughly messed it up, yet again. This was just the first time she felt any sadness after trying for what seemed like ages. She was tired of being thrown around and treated like another doormat. He was the one that broke her for the better, the one that made her realize just how much she needed true friends. She felt like howling out to her alpha, just to see someone who would understand and maybe even help her cope.

She restrained herself, just as she sat down and continued to write notes, detailing the medical stuff. She then switched out her medical notebook for her personal journal, writing down exactly what was in her head onto paper. She held nothing back in it, knowing somebody would eventually find it and snoop. This was just her silent cry for help, her cry to be accepted just as she was, even in the darkest of worlds. At this point, she'd forgotten all about the mission she was on. This was the first time in forever that she'd been close to crying since her parent's death at the hands of vampires and one angry Lycan. She didn't look for kindness in anyone, she just hoped she would at least get her physical needs met on her own.

She couldn't leave, as she had to learn to love herself here.
 
A maid came up and tapped on the door. At Damien's mumbled response, she opened the door and curtsied. "Pardon me, Sir, Miss, but Mrs. Richards is waiting for you in the dining room," she said meekly. "While the miss will be required to eat with the servants on other days, she specifically requested that you dine with her this evening."
 
Celia looked at the maid, then put her journal away, smiling. "Alright then, shall we go?" she said, her voice back to normal.

This was routine for her to give these kinds of fake smiles, just to get on with the much more uncomfortable stuff. This was the first time Celia had ever had a taste of the true pessimism in it; the pessimism of her reality. The many things her alpha had warned her about.....this was it. She really needed help, it didn't matter who gave it at this point. She just wanted to feel truly okay for once. She'd stopped the medicine about a month ago, and the thoughts were trickling back, and the dam had finally broke today.
 
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