"Dorian Gadstaff—Backstory Scene" | Dorian

Written by Elrond of Imladris

Dorian Gadstaff trembled convulsively in a dark room. His hands were slick with sweat, and breathing labored.
Emotions are hellish.
He swallowed hard.
How can they endure it? The world must seem so simple... I have to find an anchor. In all this... there has to be solid ground somewhere.
He thought back to the day the physician diagnosed his condition. CNED he had called it—Chronic Negative Emotion Disorder. What a euphemism. The diagnosis had helped nothing, only validating what Dorian already knew. He knew something was wrong the day he was six and watched the other children playing in the streets of Tor Jackal. Why wasn’t he out there? Why didn’t he join the caprices of innocence? Why was it that all he wanted to do every day was numb himself with the intellectual stimulation of the National Library?
Chronic Negative Emotion Disorder. Made sense. That was why when we he was thirteen was still in those same books instead of playing pranks on the librarian.
But what now? Six years since I was diagnosed. I’ve traveled across Ashnuw and become one of the most respected assistants in the Council. I’ve found an emotion suppressor. In one year I will probably be appointed to the Council—the youngest member ever. But why? Why does any of this matter?
Dorian dropped to the floor, pressed by the weight of the darkness. He pressed his forehead to the cold surface. A shiver danced down his spine and a single tear dropped onto the stone flags.
The same emotion suppressor that countered the CNED also deprived him of joy. His life had turned from black with flashes of light to a dull, somber grey. After a day of taking the medication constantly he was itching for emotion. Even the sharp melancholy of depression was better than the smothering grey.
His necklace slipped from under his shirt and fell in front of his face. The amber stone seemed to glow faintly in the dim light.
Bergenstaat. That’s what matters. My nation needs me. I need my nation. The binding of man and state brings to the man into the light of higher purpose. Together we make something higher—something that pulls us out of this filthy carnal existence into a transcendental plane.
Pushing himself from the floor, he set his jaw. Then sighed, grabbed a bottle on the table, popped two tablets into his mouth, and left the room.