Nepenthe • Something that can make you forget grief or suffering.
Never feeling like they belonged was a feeling that Lissa Dragomir lived with, even with her family and life long best friend, although they aided in that feeling not being so strong...
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Dr. Ivan Rasković's office smelled faintly of cedar and antiseptic, a deliberate blend meant to ground rather than soothe. The walls were a muted gray-blue, the kind of color that encouraged honesty by refusing to offer comfort. A small window let in filtered daylight, angled away from the Academy grounds. No distractions. No escape.
Adrian Ivashkov sat down hard in the chair across from the psychiatrist and immediately took a pull from the flask already in his hand.
Dr. Rasković did not comment on it. He merely observed, dark eyes sharp behind wire-rimmed glasses, pen poised above a legal pad.
Adrian leaned back, one ankle hooked over his knee, posture deceptively casual. His eyes were bloodshot—not just from lack of sleep, but from something deeper. Something heavier.
"I know that you have to tell my great-aunt about my sessions, along with Lissa's.... so don't feel shy about writing the truth. I fucked up, I nearly got 4 Royals killed, including myself. 4 Royals, 1 non-Royal and 4 amazing and talented Dhampir...... It's my fault they're messed up." The words came out of Adrian's lips bluntly, stripped of theatrics. No charm. No flirtation. Just a flat, ugly truth he'd clearly been sitting with for too long.
Dr. Rasković finally moved, setting his pen down slowly. "That's a significant amount of responsibility to assign yourself within the first thirty seconds."
Adrian scoffed. "I'm efficient."
"You're deflecting," the psychiatrist replied calmly.
Adrian tipped the flask again. "I'm being honest."
"Honesty doesn't require self-flagellation."
Adrian laughed, sharp and humorless. "It does if you're trying to beat the guilt to the punch."
That earned him a measured look. "Tell me what you believe you did."
Adrian's fingers tightened around the flask. "I didn't stop it."Silence settled between them, heavy but not uncomfortable—at least, not for the doctor. Adrian shifted in his seat, fingers tightening around the flask as if he might crush it.
"They thought she was dead," Adrian added suddenly.
Dr. Rasković looked up. "Who?"
Adrian's jaw clenched. "Kate. Katherine Alistair, or Mazur, or Belikov. I don't know her surname honestly." his voice was low, his eyes cast down to the floor. "Everyone thought she was dead, I thought she was dead."
Dr. Rasković watched as Adrian swallowed another mouthful of alcohol. "I've read reports, heard stories of how Dhampirs struggle to jump in front of trouble and danger in order to protect their Moroi, Promised and marked Guardians mind you... but Kate.... she didn't hesitate." Adrian continued. "She reacted before anyone could even understand what was happening and the other Dhampirs reacted after, when they sensed her moving."
