The intercom awoke Scar in something of a daze as he struggled to bring his eyes to focus on the ceiling. The constant touch of nausea still hadn't run its course, and his head still pounded a bit. The white cloth around his right hand indicated that he had been properly attended to some time in the night.(When, he had no idea) But it wasn't enough to cover the rash that was still spreading up his arm. Scar scowled, letting his head fall back onto the pillow.
He was exhausted and achy, but try as he might, his nurse insisted that he rouse himself. Apparently it was Sunday, so he was allowed to sit in the Sun Room. Brunch would be later, according to the overly cheerful orderly.
The disgruntled yet groggy Ishbalan shuffled into the Sun Room, which was thankfully still relatively empty. Then the nurse started blabbing about making friends again. Simply for the sake of keeping her quiet, Scar slumped into a chair next to a woman who, upon closer scrutiny, had a similar rash on her arm. It was good to know that, at least, he wasn't alone with this damn sickness.
That didn't mean that it didn't unnerve him, though.
Questions about this place still circled his head like vultures. Scar couldn't find a point in any of this. What had he found, the past three nights? What had he accomplished? Nothing but getting hurt. Perhaps this woman knew more about it all than he. After all, this was only his fourth time waking up here. (Was it really only four days? It felt like an eternity.)
"Do things like this happen often?" He indicated the rash on his hand, then turned his gaze to properly acknowledge the person lounging next to him.
no subject
The intercom awoke Scar in something of a daze as he struggled to bring his eyes to focus on the ceiling. The constant touch of nausea still hadn't run its course, and his head still pounded a bit. The white cloth around his right hand indicated that he had been properly attended to some time in the night.(When, he had no idea) But it wasn't enough to cover the rash that was still spreading up his arm. Scar scowled, letting his head fall back onto the pillow.
He was exhausted and achy, but try as he might, his nurse insisted that he rouse himself. Apparently it was Sunday, so he was allowed to sit in the Sun Room. Brunch would be later, according to the overly cheerful orderly.
The disgruntled yet groggy Ishbalan shuffled into the Sun Room, which was thankfully still relatively empty. Then the nurse started blabbing about making friends again. Simply for the sake of keeping her quiet, Scar slumped into a chair next to a woman who, upon closer scrutiny, had a similar rash on her arm. It was good to know that, at least, he wasn't alone with this damn sickness.
That didn't mean that it didn't unnerve him, though.
Questions about this place still circled his head like vultures. Scar couldn't find a point in any of this. What had he found, the past three nights? What had he accomplished? Nothing but getting hurt. Perhaps this woman knew more about it all than he. After all, this was only his fourth time waking up here. (Was it really only four days? It felt like an eternity.)
"Do things like this happen often?" He indicated the rash on his hand, then turned his gaze to properly acknowledge the person lounging next to him.