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1st Attack . video & spam
[She wakes up in her own bed, Alvin, the palm-sized teddy bear, clasped tightly in one hand. There are stars outside the window, and everything is picture-perfect. Just as she left it. She coughs, her lungs aching, and she becomes aware of numerous aches and pains. Her shoulder, her knee. A handful of cuts and scrapes. She can still feel the scorching heat on her skin. - Or, no, wait; her nose is clogged, maybe she just has a fever.
For a long moment she waits for the crushing darkness to arrive, as it usually does in her dreams. The looming shadows. Or she waits for herself to slip out of bed and start killing things. She watches herself with a kind of detached dread.
But none of these things happen, and eventually she slips out of the bed, dragging the quilted blanket with her, Alvin held tight in her fist. She manages a few steps outside, and when she finds that it's not her house, she stops dead.
All of the exhaustion catches up with her, and she slides down, against the wall next to her door. The blanket is wrapped tight around her. She stares at the wall across, waiting to wake up. Waiting to walk out into a new Hell.]
[ video & infirmaryspam, later ]
[She is curled up under as many blankets as she could talk out of whoever is on duty, and she's still shivering. Her fever is high, and every part of her body hurts. And this is when she decides to try out the little device, like a handheld computer or something. She looks absolutely awful.]
So this is like a radio...? [Her accent is rough, rural Australian.]
Who's listening? And why's there doctors in the afterlife?
[A beat, then:] Why's there flu in the afterlife?
For a long moment she waits for the crushing darkness to arrive, as it usually does in her dreams. The looming shadows. Or she waits for herself to slip out of bed and start killing things. She watches herself with a kind of detached dread.
But none of these things happen, and eventually she slips out of the bed, dragging the quilted blanket with her, Alvin held tight in her fist. She manages a few steps outside, and when she finds that it's not her house, she stops dead.
All of the exhaustion catches up with her, and she slides down, against the wall next to her door. The blanket is wrapped tight around her. She stares at the wall across, waiting to wake up. Waiting to walk out into a new Hell.]
[ video & infirmaryspam, later ]
[She is curled up under as many blankets as she could talk out of whoever is on duty, and she's still shivering. Her fever is high, and every part of her body hurts. And this is when she decides to try out the little device, like a handheld computer or something. She looks absolutely awful.]
So this is like a radio...? [Her accent is rough, rural Australian.]
Who's listening? And why's there doctors in the afterlife?
[A beat, then:] Why's there flu in the afterlife?
[Spam]
[ And she's a little scared to go back, really. That room is just how she left it, more than a year ago. That's eerie. ]
[Spam]
Should I leave you alone?
[Spam]
[ She does care, though she's being a bit huffy. She doesn't entirely like being alone, and he hasn't proved to be annoying yet. ]
[Spam]
It's just.
Good manners.
[Spam]
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He retreats back to his chair and sits down, looking at his hands]
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After a moment, she mutters: ]
Sorry.
[Spam]
Do the kidnapping part of it.
I'm sorry you died. And I'm..sorry you were brought here against your will.
[Spam]
[ This is said with some arrogance. Unfortunately, in truth, she did in fact have to make an apology once. They told her to. Not at the point of a gun, but the point was pretty clear.
She'd been cowardly and given in. And she'd probably do it again. ]
[Spam]
[Spam]
Are you a guard?
[Spam]
[He gives a nod to the sleeping Alpha beside him]
It's a little different from being a guard. I don't know if anyone's said.
[Spam]
Most guards I see have guns.
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Stop them from shooting you.
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I never did.
[And he can't help but wonder if Alpha would be sitting in a hospital bed if he'd been able to hurt the person who hurt him]
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Just because I never hurt anyone.
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[ Staring at her nails, mumbling. If she could learn to be a killer, she's pretty sure anyone could. ]
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