(no subject)
Who: Threnody and Dick Grayson, but also generally open
What: Hanging around (not in, just kind of around, awkwardly) the medical ward
Where: Level 2, near said medical ward
When: Afternoon-y
Warnings: Narrative references to addiction of a supernatural kind, but parallel to drugs
Threnody had, despite her better judgment, accepted being stuck here. She'd wandered the ship as much as she was allowed (damn those Warden-only spots, seriously), and discovered very little in the way of plausible escapes, and though she refused to rule it out as a possibility, for now, this was the deal. Maybe some hideous fever dream deal, but she wasn't waking up any time soon, and she'd have to make do. As long as Sinister didn't show up and nobody tried to experiment on her again, she'd cope. On her own, like always. Relying on anyone else to get her through this would just be stupid--hadn't she thought she could stick by Nate and he'd make everything better? That hadn't exactly turned out well, though she reminded herself it was really more her fault than his. And now she was stuck on the U.S.S. Flying Hideous Fever Dream Boat.
Although...she was pretty sure you didn't get withdrawal in your dreams. Since arriving, Threnody had noticed the steadily increasing pace of her heartbeat, the tremble in her limbs, and the recurring pounding headache. This was incoming withdrawal--right now it was kid stuff, but she knew what was waiting for her--and this time, she wasn't doing it tucked away in some broken-down loft in New York: she was in a prison ship with doctors and lots of people around...but no one she knew, and she couldn't help her own reluctance regarding the place. She made her way, in a burst of uncertain bravery, to the medical ward...and stopped about ten feet away from it.
What could they even do? Besides which, she didn't want to cop to truth; she'd mostly physically recovered on the outside from having her daughter, which was probably a side-effect of her powers, since it had only been a matter of days, but it made an okay excuse to hide the reality. She wavered, unsteady on her feet, and gave up. The ward seemed far away, and she didn't feel like bothering--too tired, suddenly. Threnody slid down to sit on the floor, back against the wall, her knees tucked up to her chest, not really giving a damn who saw her.
She'd kill for a cigarette right now, she thought to herself, and then mentally amended: not literally.
What: Hanging around (not in, just kind of around, awkwardly) the medical ward
Where: Level 2, near said medical ward
When: Afternoon-y
Warnings: Narrative references to addiction of a supernatural kind, but parallel to drugs
Threnody had, despite her better judgment, accepted being stuck here. She'd wandered the ship as much as she was allowed (damn those Warden-only spots, seriously), and discovered very little in the way of plausible escapes, and though she refused to rule it out as a possibility, for now, this was the deal. Maybe some hideous fever dream deal, but she wasn't waking up any time soon, and she'd have to make do. As long as Sinister didn't show up and nobody tried to experiment on her again, she'd cope. On her own, like always. Relying on anyone else to get her through this would just be stupid--hadn't she thought she could stick by Nate and he'd make everything better? That hadn't exactly turned out well, though she reminded herself it was really more her fault than his. And now she was stuck on the U.S.S. Flying Hideous Fever Dream Boat.
Although...she was pretty sure you didn't get withdrawal in your dreams. Since arriving, Threnody had noticed the steadily increasing pace of her heartbeat, the tremble in her limbs, and the recurring pounding headache. This was incoming withdrawal--right now it was kid stuff, but she knew what was waiting for her--and this time, she wasn't doing it tucked away in some broken-down loft in New York: she was in a prison ship with doctors and lots of people around...but no one she knew, and she couldn't help her own reluctance regarding the place. She made her way, in a burst of uncertain bravery, to the medical ward...and stopped about ten feet away from it.
What could they even do? Besides which, she didn't want to cop to truth; she'd mostly physically recovered on the outside from having her daughter, which was probably a side-effect of her powers, since it had only been a matter of days, but it made an okay excuse to hide the reality. She wavered, unsteady on her feet, and gave up. The ward seemed far away, and she didn't feel like bothering--too tired, suddenly. Threnody slid down to sit on the floor, back against the wall, her knees tucked up to her chest, not really giving a damn who saw her.
She'd kill for a cigarette right now, she thought to herself, and then mentally amended: not literally.