23 • [video|action]
[he'd been in and out for the past few days, but today is the first that he considers himself truly awake. With the lingering weakness from his surgery weeks ago, it has taken him agonizingly longer than usual to regain consciousness. And once he finally does, more than the pain, it is the unfamiliar surroundings that strike him. ...This isn't the clinic that he's used to.
--And then come the memories. It isn't until he glances down to see the bandages and immobilized right arm that he recalls what brought him here.
He can't help but laugh a little to himself. Absurd.
At least he doesn't drop the journal this time, as he reaches over to retrieve it with his automail--and currently only free--arm.]
Here again. I really should be more careful, shouldn't I?
[a minute to two goes by, then. Stewing in the kind of silent outrage that he's gotten so used to enduring these past handful of months. When he does speak again, none of it reaches his voice. Only a detached tone of amusement] --I won't fight you this time, Vash, if you would like to try again.
[and then, much more generally]
If they can take that which defines us, what does that leave us with? [a hesitation where he considers going on. But... speaking really does hurt. And his weakened morale is sinking. So--] ...And where am I?
((ooc: Legato's a little out of it and in the hospital... again. The battledome, this time. Open over the journal or two anyone in the battledome clinic))
--And then come the memories. It isn't until he glances down to see the bandages and immobilized right arm that he recalls what brought him here.
He can't help but laugh a little to himself. Absurd.
At least he doesn't drop the journal this time, as he reaches over to retrieve it with his automail--and currently only free--arm.]
Here again. I really should be more careful, shouldn't I?
[a minute to two goes by, then. Stewing in the kind of silent outrage that he's gotten so used to enduring these past handful of months. When he does speak again, none of it reaches his voice. Only a detached tone of amusement] --I won't fight you this time, Vash, if you would like to try again.
[and then, much more generally]
If they can take that which defines us, what does that leave us with? [a hesitation where he considers going on. But... speaking really does hurt. And his weakened morale is sinking. So--] ...And where am I?
((ooc: Legato's a little out of it and in the hospital... again. The battledome, this time. Open over the journal or two anyone in the battledome clinic))