Journal Entry 2
#3 of London Org.
Based off a D&D campaign I played, set in 1920's London, the entries come from the point of view of Baylor Stoneridge. An anthropomorphic Buffalo who has the power to amplify the feelings of others and allow others to get a taste of his emotions with the slightest touch.
Where to begin? Let us start with the leadership opportunity I wish I could turn down. So as a leader, I am to remain in a constant state of control over my emotional state, but post-traumatic stress disorder sometimes doesn't allow me to brave those emotions. I have helped treat many species for their PTSD episodes; from the war; from buggy accidents to gunfire, to many ranges of fear or death or any sort of breakdown that could cause an attack. Many of those in my field of research have found to use such practices as chloroform, or alcohol of some sort while I have taken the time to use my cursed powers as an aid. Hell, most of my patients have referred to me as a valuable practitioner in the field of medically treating PTSD. But Alas, I am not a miracle worker, just a miracle for those who seek help in relieving them of their burden. I cannot treat my own mind, believe me, I've tried countless times, but they think their psychiatrist can help me. If he has my curse, there is a slight probability it could work, but also a probability it would cancel out against my own. I struggle from the immobilizing fear of injuring or harming a team member, a passerby who happens to bump into me while on the way to their job, a poor young woman who just wanted to go to the parties, and mingle. I can kill. And that is what begins these episodes for me.
Anyone can kill, for certain. Bring in a rifle and one good shot can kill a man. Poison a pitcher of water or a glass of whiskey and you could watch the sad souls who took what they didn't know as their last taste of flavor wriggle on the ground until they have slowly but surely stopped moving at all. But to touch someone, a person you held close to you, a person whose laughter stirred up feelings of love and affection, an innocent person who saw the world in a more open spectrum then the rest and shared their life and experiences with you, only to rush them with such strong emotions of frustrations and guilt and you watch them choke on their last breath before they lay silent, that, my dear audience, is magic, a fairy tale, a legend never heard of by any of the ancient Romans, this is the curse I lay with.
PTSD, as I have been able to medically treat using only the proper and most humane techniques, now looks like a facade. All those innocent lives I saved using only the touch of my hooved fingertips now seem to fade away after you've learned what I've done. How can I control a group of different-minded people when I can't get through my own mind.
Speaking of being a leader, the thought of having to run a team and become "friends" with them, as L put it sharply, will not happen. I cannot let it happen. I have to remain in a state where I only see them as expendable team members. The last time I had a "friend" I took it for granted. I cannot be friendly or show any sympathy. I should never be given a chance to rectify my wrongs with rights until I can do no wrongs, you understand me right?
I just feel so alone, though I'm so afraid to get close to another person again. Close enough that someone trusts me and close enough to know that they trusted the wrong person.
Big day tomorrow though. I get to learn what Haven can do. L has told Haven to practice with me on control while the man I abuse daily is taking a break from me. What a good feeling to have that someone needs to be away from you to feel better. Maybe I am overthinking it. I do use my power against him every day and that can be exhausting. One time, a badger came to me to treat him for paranoia. He was afraid that his old gang who perished in a gun fight was haunting him. I placed my palms on his shoulders and before I could even be certain I helped him, he had fainted. Happened all the time to be quite honest. That was before I realized I could harm someone. Still a nice thought to think back on. I did cure him though, everyone I've helped has been cured.
I guess I'm just looking for a cure as well. This paranoid feeling I could kill someone stems from my inability to keep those around me safe causing the recurring images of the man I loved and gave everything to die in my arms. Those photographs phasing through my mind like a moving picture at the theater playing his death over and over. Haven's gift is all I can rely on to help me. Help me forget at least.