![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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]
He actually hops right over Ellie's bed at first, not recognizing the huddle of blankets as a person, but when he hears her voice and realizes his error he hops back over to get a look at her. He sits crosslegged in the air, about six inches off the ground.]
Ah, you're new, huh?
[Spam]
She stares, suspiciously, at him. ]
You're flying off the ground.
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
Hoverman, however, is better than Jesse Pinkman, and he takes it in stride. He drops his hand to his knee and shrugs.]
I'm just telling you the truth. I mean, you can see me, right? I don't lie.
[Spam]
She's only being hostile because she's confused. It's a bad habit of hers. ]
It just doesn't make sense.
[Spam]
[Spam]
[ Crabbily. ]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
Is this a prank?
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]
[Spam]