(no subject)
Date/Time: 'Trouble Brewing' - Thursday, October 22nd; early evening
Location: Hospital Wing
Open to: Bastian; Any
Involving: Andra
She didn't look like herself.
Not only because of the slightly red-tinged hair atop her head, but because of her entire demeanour. She walked slowly, timidly; her brows seemed constantly knit in worry and pain; her arms either hung loosely at her side or wrapped tightly around her torso, protectively. She was almost a broken woman -- almost. There was still some part of her left that wasn't waving a flag of surrender, but even she couldn't see it. She didn't think it was there.
The only thing that had kept her going over the past day was knowing that Bastian was alive. Before then? She'd not cared about anything. She'd wandered off into that very forest, almost in the hopes of being hurt. She'd walked around past curfew sans buddy, sans fear. She was past caution and rational thought. And, upon seeing Bastian toted up to the hospital wing yesterday in the middle of his own funeral, she'd given herself a bit more hope.
Before, she'd felt alone, like she had no one. The night after Pat's confession, she had ran out and thought of who to turn to. Remy? No, his significant other was involved in the problem. Bastian -- no, she had realised, she couldn't go to him. He didn't exist anymore.
And now there he was, and she needed him. She needed to see him, to make sure he was real, to let him know how much she'd missed him. To tell him what happened, to have some sort of solid ground to cling to. Timidly, she pushed the white curtain back and looked around a bit frantically for something to knock on. Settling on the nightstand, she gave it a soft rap as she offered a smile.
"Hi."
Location: Hospital Wing
Open to: Bastian; Any
Involving: Andra
She didn't look like herself.
Not only because of the slightly red-tinged hair atop her head, but because of her entire demeanour. She walked slowly, timidly; her brows seemed constantly knit in worry and pain; her arms either hung loosely at her side or wrapped tightly around her torso, protectively. She was almost a broken woman -- almost. There was still some part of her left that wasn't waving a flag of surrender, but even she couldn't see it. She didn't think it was there.
The only thing that had kept her going over the past day was knowing that Bastian was alive. Before then? She'd not cared about anything. She'd wandered off into that very forest, almost in the hopes of being hurt. She'd walked around past curfew sans buddy, sans fear. She was past caution and rational thought. And, upon seeing Bastian toted up to the hospital wing yesterday in the middle of his own funeral, she'd given herself a bit more hope.
Before, she'd felt alone, like she had no one. The night after Pat's confession, she had ran out and thought of who to turn to. Remy? No, his significant other was involved in the problem. Bastian -- no, she had realised, she couldn't go to him. He didn't exist anymore.
And now there he was, and she needed him. She needed to see him, to make sure he was real, to let him know how much she'd missed him. To tell him what happened, to have some sort of solid ground to cling to. Timidly, she pushed the white curtain back and looked around a bit frantically for something to knock on. Settling on the nightstand, she gave it a soft rap as she offered a smile.
"Hi."