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ataraxionlogs2012-06-12 10:49 pm
ataraxites) wrote in ataraxionlogs2012-06-12 10:49 pm
Entry tags:
- !event,
- agent k,
- aragorn,
- asato,
- blaine anderson,
- charles xavier | au,
- data,
- death (discworld),
- dr. elizabeth "betty" ross,
- eames,
- erik lehnsherr,
- frodo baggins,
- gabriel "sylar" gray,
- hayley stark,
- heather mason,
- helen magnus,
- hikaru sulu (xi),
- ianto jones,
- irene adler (2009),
- jack harkness,
- james moriarty,
- james t. kirk (xi),
- jarvis,
- jaye rinnark,
- john watson,
- john watson | au,
- josias st. john,
- justin taylor,
- konoe,
- kurt hummel,
- legolas,
- leonard "bones" mccoy (xi),
- megamind,
- miles edgeworth,
- murphy pendleton,
- natalie faust,
- natasha romanoff,
- nathan petrelli,
- netherlands,
- patrick "kitten" braden,
- peter petrelli,
- raven darkholme,
- rey,
- richard b. riddick,
- sawyer "soysauce" sciarrino,
- seraphim dias,
- sherlock holmes,
- sherlock holmes | au,
- spock (xi),
- statsraaden,
- superboy,
- susan "sue" storm,
- tate langdon,
- taylor "tyke" kee,
- tommy conlon,
- wesley gibson,
- wichita,
- zatanna zatara
02 ▒ EVENT: STASIS SICKNESS ▒ MEDBAY
CHARACTERS: Ensemble production!
LOCATION: Medbay.
WARNINGS: Sickness, body horror, etc.
SUMMARY: Sickness central. Treatments, dying slowly, related events.
NOTES: Divided by days a la medbay organisation log in the comments!
LOCATION: Medbay.
WARNINGS: Sickness, body horror, etc.
SUMMARY: Sickness central. Treatments, dying slowly, related events.
NOTES: Divided by days a la medbay organisation log in the comments!
| You're not feeling too well. The last couple of days have been - rough. The medbay seems to be a bit more full than usual, but you're sure it's nothing to be worried about; whatever the illness is, it'll go away once you've rested and gotten a check-up. Right? |
=creepy?
in her own time and measure. she's in pain and she's nauseated and there isn't much reason, much motivation in being conscious for that experience. but Hayley has always been sensitive to the world around her. not something innate, not something in her from birth- but a sensitivity, an awareness she's cultivated. become.
her color has gone, as has the majority of her strength.
she'd never given much thought to her mortality. that it existed. that one day she wouldn't, and what the hell was she going to do when she turned eighteen- but this is something else. this is disease ravaging her body and leaving her hollowed out and weak against the sheets. her lashes flutter, but slowly, slowly- bruised eyes crack open, and raise themselves to a familiar face.
Tate. ]
gross sobbing
maybe he never had.
when she wakes up, he doesn't move. he doesn't look away. doesn't blink. he just waits for her breathing to even, for her blued eyes to focus on him so that he knows, despite her fever, the sweat that leaves her forehead damp and her hair in curls at the nape of her neck, that she's paying attention.]
You're dying. [he says, voice low.]
no subject
she thinks about it, long after her gaze has focused and his features arrange themselves- familiarity and sense- but Hayley decides not to waste the breath. they're probably numbered by now. and honestly, there's no telling if there's even a cure to find. or if there was, that the group would make it back.
the corner of her mouth moves into what might have been a wry smile, but doesn't have the energy to make it. her entire body feels bruised, and Hayley knows she's losing control of her limbs. it's disgusting.
her voice is a breath. ]
Yeah. Maybe.
no subject
[he says it with conviction, because he can see it on her. clinging like a shroud. the vultures circling in the desert because they know their next meal is coming. he pauses, then, lets the silence wrap them up, the only sound the beeping of the monitors and the conversation of doctors and patients beyond the curtains.
Tate steps closer to the bed.]
I can save you.
no subject
her gaze flickers too quickly for her to stop it, and locks itself on his face. it takes one moment, then another, for Hayley to draw ample breath into her lungs to reply. ]
In exchange for-?
no subject
[he says, and it's then, like he could press his point home that he leans over her. covers her prone body with the spread of his shadow, as though it could consume her like the sickness. half bracing over the bed, his palms flatten against the bedspread on either side of her shoulders. it brings him close enough that he can smell the stench of death and decay on her.
but he doesn't flinch. instead, his gaze stays locked, wide and fixed, on her own.]
Give me back the mask and I'll give you the cure.
no subject
the breath stills in her lungs.
maybe in a few days, it'll still entirely.
her eyes move over his face- search him and come up empty and she doesn't hide the momentary vulnerability, the flicker of want for what he's ready and willing to offer. it's hard, so fucking hard to move, but she takes her time. Hayley moves one elbow behind her, then another- and inch by goddamned inch, she pushes herself up to meet him. he moves with her, some twisted synchronization, and it's only when she's as far as she can go, supported on fragile limbs, precariously balanced, that she speaks. a whisper in the inch that separates their mouths. ]
You're never going to get it Tate.
[ she could die here, but she doubts it. because Hayley holds herself up. because she has friendships she's spent months cultivating and an image a handful have found it necessary to protect and she knows knows that while maybe she can't get the cure herself, she'll get it somehow.
Hayley pulls back with an smile, and doesn't disguise the satisfaction there. because he's given her his vulnerability. because he's tested hers and found nothing. ]
I'm not afraid of anything.
[ even when the seizure takes her, and her waiflike frame is thrown back against the bed, locked up and trembling, she still looks like she's smiling. ]
no subject
when she spits that she's afraid of nothing.
he'd heard someone else tell him that once; but that someone hadn't taken a lead pipe to him. hadn't run screaming from the house (from him). that someone hadn't looked death in the face and accepted it with shaking, rotting limbs and a feral, unflappable look on their face.
when she seizes, there's no surprise in his face. no sympathy or concern, his mouth only twists into an ugly snarl, and he pushes hard off the bed. he rips the curtain aside when he leaves with more violence than ever necessary, but disappears before anyone can pin him to the scene.]