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ataraxionlogs2012-10-16 04:33 am
cons) wrote in ataraxionlogs2012-10-16 04:33 am
Entry tags:
cellophane flowers of yellow and green towering over your head ( open )
CHARACTERS: Wichita and YOU.
LOCATION: la medbay.
WARNINGS: mention of a gunshot wound?? nah. it won't get gory, she's all patched up now. so, no warnings.
SUMMARY: kid's stuck in medbay for a few days while the bones in her shoulder get fixed up by the wonders of space medicine! she's a little loopy, but that just makes it more fun for her to have visitors.
NOTES: forward-dated to Thursday! I'm working stupidly weird hours tomorrow-Thursday night so I wanted to get this up now.
[ oh, the medical bay. Wichita hates it here. hates it. she hates that her shoulder is wrapped up so much she can't move her arm at all, that she's got gauze across her chest to make sure she really can't move it, that her only shirt from home got cut up and is probably in some garbage can somewhere covered in blood. she hates the smell of this place, the fact that everybody talks so quietly here. she hates the taste in her mouth and the fact that she can't just go to the bar to drink a shitload of booze to get rid of said taste and pretend this never happened.
because it was insane, seriously. she can't really remember what happened after she passed out at Mrs. O'Leary's feet. people moved her to the medbay, obviously, someone named Dr. Tam ( she met him properly after the fact, but right now everything is all fuzzy ) removed the bullet fragments or whatever and stitched her up and gave her whatever it is that's helping her body heal. she doesn't trust the weird space drugs she's got here, not really, but the idea of cutting a two-week medbay stay down to just a few days is tempting enough.
so she took the drugs, took more drugs to dull out the pain, which is why everything, right now, is absolutely kittens.
yes, kittens.
it's not the same wildly heavy pain medication they were all on when the smurf plague hit, but it's close. close enough to make her smile when she wakes up instead of howling in pain like a freaking nutcase, and enough to make it so she can turn her head to see who's decided to stick around post-surgery. not that she even remembers how long she's been here, at the moment. whatever. maybe it's time to go home already! probably not. ]
Heeeeyy.
LOCATION: la medbay.
WARNINGS: mention of a gunshot wound?? nah. it won't get gory, she's all patched up now. so, no warnings.
SUMMARY: kid's stuck in medbay for a few days while the bones in her shoulder get fixed up by the wonders of space medicine! she's a little loopy, but that just makes it more fun for her to have visitors.
NOTES: forward-dated to Thursday! I'm working stupidly weird hours tomorrow-Thursday night so I wanted to get this up now.
[ oh, the medical bay. Wichita hates it here. hates it. she hates that her shoulder is wrapped up so much she can't move her arm at all, that she's got gauze across her chest to make sure she really can't move it, that her only shirt from home got cut up and is probably in some garbage can somewhere covered in blood. she hates the smell of this place, the fact that everybody talks so quietly here. she hates the taste in her mouth and the fact that she can't just go to the bar to drink a shitload of booze to get rid of said taste and pretend this never happened.
because it was insane, seriously. she can't really remember what happened after she passed out at Mrs. O'Leary's feet. people moved her to the medbay, obviously, someone named Dr. Tam ( she met him properly after the fact, but right now everything is all fuzzy ) removed the bullet fragments or whatever and stitched her up and gave her whatever it is that's helping her body heal. she doesn't trust the weird space drugs she's got here, not really, but the idea of cutting a two-week medbay stay down to just a few days is tempting enough.
so she took the drugs, took more drugs to dull out the pain, which is why everything, right now, is absolutely kittens.
yes, kittens.
it's not the same wildly heavy pain medication they were all on when the smurf plague hit, but it's close. close enough to make her smile when she wakes up instead of howling in pain like a freaking nutcase, and enough to make it so she can turn her head to see who's decided to stick around post-surgery. not that she even remembers how long she's been here, at the moment. whatever. maybe it's time to go home already! probably not. ]
Heeeeyy.