This was the closest that Edward ever came to feeling happy - at least in the institute. There was always more than enough to distract him from the feeling, the lowest on the scale being his own injuries; the pain, the inability to move one of his arms, the way his skin was scarred; the highest being Bella's. Frostbite. Frostbite. There was no cure for that. Not if it hadn't been treated immediately, especially not if the skin was discolored as hers had been. The nerves were dead. It was impossible to bring nerves back to life.
Okay, that was a reasonably silly thing to think from a reanimated corpse, but it didn't change the fact it was true. Even if it was also impossible to make a vampire like a human...
Edward. Start accepting impossibilities. It was easier when said impossibilities applied to himself and not to Bella. Her injuries always seemed permanent in his mind, as if time only slowed so the healing process took longer. Would the darkened skin of her arms heal? Was it wrong to hope for that
( ... )
He hadn't been too happy - no, scratch that, he was flat out pissed that all he had to eat around here now was pink slop. Unfortunately, whether he liked it or not, he still had to recover energy somehow, so Niikura had ended up focusing all of his attention on cleaning his entire plate, leaving the option of dinner conversation in the dust.
Tonight he'd get somewhere, provided he and Mike didn't end up at each other's throats again. Ah, well, neither here nor there; they all ran into complications some time. You just had to roll with the punches.
His roommate had tossed his beret before leaving, and Niikura followed suit before tousling his hair back into its usual self. Opening his possessions box, he retrieved his flashlight and a few pens before flipping the lid shut. Time to go.
The shadow of a bird fluttered across the bright blue sky, its true colors hidden by the brightness of the sun. Phoenix had been bleeding from both external and internal wounds alike, and the concrete had been warm underneath his dampening suit. He was as fragile as any other human being, no matter how good of a lawyer or a person he was - and dying in an inconsequential way felt almost anticlimactic, yet somehow appropriate
( ... )
Ugh, Phoenix thought to himself wryly, as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, tentatively feeling out the floor with his feet (it wouldn't do if he was on a bunk bed on the top level and he somehow threw himself over the edge and broke his legs), and standing up. First I die, and then I have to somehow puzzle this out? I thought the afterlife would be a little less confusing - and not as complicated as this.Feeling around like a blind man was less thrilling than Phoenix could ever imagine - switching the flashlight to his left hand, he felt around the room, nearly having a heart attack when he bumped into another bed. Flailing around off balance with an undignified squawk, he nearly capsized right into it, before he caught himself - and he was infinitely thankful to find that there was no one there, and the bedding hardly felt rumpled, even after his unfortunate endeavor into it
( ... )
The search for a wall switch was unfruitful, though Phoenix found a doorway (presumably) out of the room and a closet on the way - though it didn't make much sense to open either, considering that he couldn't see anything and didn't want to alert anyone of his presence unless he could see himself. And after he rummaged around in his pockets, he found a small key ring and a set of keys - neither of which worked on the first desk he had first attempted entry. As he canvassed the room, however, Phoenix discovered that the side of his room that he had slept upon was an exact mirror of the other side - and after a few failed attempts at inserting the right key into the desk drawer, he was able to open it, discovering a set of batteries to his great relief
( ... )
It wasn't just the physical aches, despite how his muscles protested with movement he made and the bone weary exhaustion; an ache that even his magic couldn't soothe. Injuries could be magicked away and battles could be fought and won, but.. each step forward, each thought pushed to the back of his mind wearied him further. He ached, but couldn't just stop and take the break his body kept insisting he needed or else... or else he'd be left behind.
Left behind in the wasteland that was the Vile Peaks, filled with creatures and machines and soldiers that wanted to kill him, and unable to find his way out. He had no idea how to get home, how to continue on, what to do. He hurt and it wasn't just physical pains but the kinds that he couldn't stand to think about at the moment because then he wouldn't be able to go on, wouldn't be able to take that next step for need to just fall onto his knees and grieve. Grieve for his mother and for himself. Because he could never go home now, could
( ... )
Only to fall, crashing, to the floor with a yelp and a hard bang on his temple and already aching shoulder and leg. He had-- from a height-- what was going on? His eyes were wide, panicked and trying to take in his new surroundings-- or lack thereof. There was nothing-- just nothing to be seen and it was just darkness and nothing and where was he and it was completely dark he must have been blinded somehow--
And there was something holding him downHe shrieked, struggling against whatever was holding him down and trying to ignore the pain in his head and his aching bones, panic in the pitch darkness giving him the extra strength to move. What was it? What was there in the darkness with him? How did he get here? Had he been too late to dodge, too late to save himself, and maybe now something was wrong because-- was this the fate l'Cie met when they died? Never be at peace, but eternal darkness and
( ... )
That made sense. He probably fell out of a bed. Probably holding on to furniture... groping blindly with his hands, Hope managed to pat the mattress of the bed, calming down significantly when he realized his deductions were true. He was in a lot of trouble, but he wasn't dead. They might torture him or kill him later, but he had a chance. He just had to escape. Figure out a way to find the others again. Sazh and Vanille would help him.
He tried to swallow the tight feeling in his throat and the thought I should have stayed with them as he shakily got to his feet and tried to step forward, continually waving his arms to make sure he wouldn't run into anything. His legs were shaking and his steps were small, but he was making progress. He cussed a word that he was sure his mom never found out he knew as he stubbed his feet against the ground, heart rushing with panic in his ears. He just wanted to not be scared anymore. He wanted to go home and wake up and find out that this was all a nightmare, and that the vacation to Bodhum had
( ... )
Comments 8
Okay, that was a reasonably silly thing to think from a reanimated corpse, but it didn't change the fact it was true. Even if it was also impossible to make a vampire like a human...
Edward. Start accepting impossibilities. It was easier when said impossibilities applied to himself and not to Bella. Her injuries always seemed permanent in his mind, as if time only slowed so the healing process took longer. Would the darkened skin of her arms heal? Was it wrong to hope for that ( ... )
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Tonight he'd get somewhere, provided he and Mike didn't end up at each other's throats again. Ah, well, neither here nor there; they all ran into complications some time. You just had to roll with the punches.
His roommate had tossed his beret before leaving, and Niikura followed suit before tousling his hair back into its usual self. Opening his possessions box, he retrieved his flashlight and a few pens before flipping the lid shut. Time to go.
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It wasn't just the physical aches, despite how his muscles protested with movement he made and the bone weary exhaustion; an ache that even his magic couldn't soothe. Injuries could be magicked away and battles could be fought and won, but.. each step forward, each thought pushed to the back of his mind wearied him further. He ached, but couldn't just stop and take the break his body kept insisting he needed or else... or else he'd be left behind.
Left behind in the wasteland that was the Vile Peaks, filled with creatures and machines and soldiers that wanted to kill him, and unable to find his way out. He had no idea how to get home, how to continue on, what to do. He hurt and it wasn't just physical pains but the kinds that he couldn't stand to think about at the moment because then he wouldn't be able to go on, wouldn't be able to take that next step for need to just fall onto his knees and grieve. Grieve for his mother and for himself. Because he could never go home now, could ( ... )
Reply
And there was something holding him downHe shrieked, struggling against whatever was holding him down and trying to ignore the pain in his head and his aching bones, panic in the pitch darkness giving him the extra strength to move. What was it? What was there in the darkness with him? How did he get here? Had he been too late to dodge, too late to save himself, and maybe now something was wrong because-- was this the fate l'Cie met when they died? Never be at peace, but eternal darkness and ( ... )
Reply
He tried to swallow the tight feeling in his throat and the thought I should have stayed with them as he shakily got to his feet and tried to step forward, continually waving his arms to make sure he wouldn't run into anything. His legs were shaking and his steps were small, but he was making progress. He cussed a word that he was sure his mom never found out he knew as he stubbed his feet against the ground, heart rushing with panic in his ears. He just wanted to not be scared anymore. He wanted to go home and wake up and find out that this was all a nightmare, and that the vacation to Bodhum had ( ... )
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