Room 504, Monday Morning
A headache brought on by uncomfortable sleep-not nightmares, thank you very much, she didn’t have nightmares-meant that Ino was going to spend the morning with music on (cheerful bubbly pop), singing along while wondering idly if she ought to give Edward a call (it would be a distraction, he would terrify her in ways that had nothing to do with children’s eyes) and giving her plants an inspection that probably went a good bit beyond meticulous.
Reno would probably tell her that she ought to get her ass out of her room. She’d get there.
No, no studying this morning. Ino was pretty sure that it’d only make it harder to sleep when she crashed out later. After all-what was worse, dreams about what she’d done when the body she’d been in hadn’t known what was going on?
Or dreams where Kinjo still had thought, but just as little control, and she could imagine Kinjo's consciousness fluttering, struggling against her will like a broken butterfly? To Ino, it was no contest. Seriously no contest.
Forcing her mind away from that she sang along to the radio. Music. Plants. She could do this.
[Open door, open post.]
Reno would probably tell her that she ought to get her ass out of her room. She’d get there.
No, no studying this morning. Ino was pretty sure that it’d only make it harder to sleep when she crashed out later. After all-what was worse, dreams about what she’d done when the body she’d been in hadn’t known what was going on?
Or dreams where Kinjo still had thought, but just as little control, and she could imagine Kinjo's consciousness fluttering, struggling against her will like a broken butterfly? To Ino, it was no contest. Seriously no contest.
Forcing her mind away from that she sang along to the radio. Music. Plants. She could do this.
[Open door, open post.]