Castiel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
freewill) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2012-11-29 04:11 pm
freewill) wrote in damned_institute2012-11-29 04:11 pm
Entry tags:
Night 67: M31-M40 Hallway
Castiel had actually managed to keep down the juice he'd drank and the small amount of turkey that he'd eaten, at least so far. Kobayashi had confirmed what Kratos had told him about the healing flower. Seeing how he wouldn't be capable of doing anything more strenuous, a search of the greenhouse seemed like a decent enough way to spend his night.
St. John's Wort. Of course he knew the flower, as well as the man it was named after. Not that they'd ever met, but he'd certainly observed him, back in those days.
When Kobayashi left, Castiel slowly eased himself up from his chair and leveled a stare at the crutches leaning against his desk. The question was, how was he supposed to do this? He'd watched plenty of injured humans use these things, but doing it himself was another story.
The basic concept behind it was simple enough. He had to finagle with the settings on them until he got them to a proper height for his arms, and then he went about the awkward practice of doing a few test runs as he tried to find his balance with the artificial limbs.
The act of moving around on them put a lot of strain on his arms, but so long as he didn't clench his abdominal muscles, it looked like he would be capable of getting around. Not quickly, though, and for someone who was used to teleporting, it had been bad enough being forced to walk everywhere. This was a step lower than that, and it was nothing short of maddening.
Moving at a slow pace was better than spending another night passed out in that bed, though, and so once Castiel was ready (with his flashlight and radio shoved into his trenchcoat pockets), he hobbled his way on crutches down the hallway.
[To here.]
St. John's Wort. Of course he knew the flower, as well as the man it was named after. Not that they'd ever met, but he'd certainly observed him, back in those days.
When Kobayashi left, Castiel slowly eased himself up from his chair and leveled a stare at the crutches leaning against his desk. The question was, how was he supposed to do this? He'd watched plenty of injured humans use these things, but doing it himself was another story.
The basic concept behind it was simple enough. He had to finagle with the settings on them until he got them to a proper height for his arms, and then he went about the awkward practice of doing a few test runs as he tried to find his balance with the artificial limbs.
The act of moving around on them put a lot of strain on his arms, but so long as he didn't clench his abdominal muscles, it looked like he would be capable of getting around. Not quickly, though, and for someone who was used to teleporting, it had been bad enough being forced to walk everywhere. This was a step lower than that, and it was nothing short of maddening.
Moving at a slow pace was better than spending another night passed out in that bed, though, and so once Castiel was ready (with his flashlight and radio shoved into his trenchcoat pockets), he hobbled his way on crutches down the hallway.
[To here.]