consequence
Who: Felix Harrowgate and...whoever else wants to yell at him
What: Felix is getting ready to leave the clinic, but not as quietly as he would like
When: Wednesday afternoon
Where: The clinic
Rating: PG-13 for language, probably
Felix sat up in bed and sighed, running his hand over his sleep-tangled hair with a measure of annoyance. Idly he wished up a hairbrush and began to correct the problem as he sorted out the larger issue of what had occurred on Friday.
He still wasn't sure what had gone wrong. Maybe his magic was incompatible with that of the lyrium, or he needed to introduce a step to control the flow of the magic, or, perhaps more simply, he had panicked. Whatever the reason, the result was a short and uncomfortably familiar descent to into a sort of madness, which only now was a confused tangle of memories. He'd spent the intervening days in a fever as the lyrium bled from his system, taking the hallucinations with it. After that, it was a comfort to do something as normal as queuing his hair.
He still wasn't sure who had seen him in that condition, but he was certain that a number of people were upset with him, not least of which was Fenris, for whom the entire process had been started in the first place. That was the last thing he had wanted, if only because it had been a feat to win the elf's favor in the first place. He wasn't sure why he wanted it so much, except that it was impossible not to see a reflection of himself in Fenris - the part of him that struggled even now against Malkar's chains.
There was damage control to do, certainly, but he could maybe avoid their ire until later. Ashura's was inevitable, but the rest could wait until he could make it back up to the tower to perform a proper dispersal.
Tying off his hair, Felix slipped off the bed and began to hunt about for his shoes. The more normal he looked the better...
What: Felix is getting ready to leave the clinic, but not as quietly as he would like
When: Wednesday afternoon
Where: The clinic
Rating: PG-13 for language, probably
Felix sat up in bed and sighed, running his hand over his sleep-tangled hair with a measure of annoyance. Idly he wished up a hairbrush and began to correct the problem as he sorted out the larger issue of what had occurred on Friday.
He still wasn't sure what had gone wrong. Maybe his magic was incompatible with that of the lyrium, or he needed to introduce a step to control the flow of the magic, or, perhaps more simply, he had panicked. Whatever the reason, the result was a short and uncomfortably familiar descent to into a sort of madness, which only now was a confused tangle of memories. He'd spent the intervening days in a fever as the lyrium bled from his system, taking the hallucinations with it. After that, it was a comfort to do something as normal as queuing his hair.
He still wasn't sure who had seen him in that condition, but he was certain that a number of people were upset with him, not least of which was Fenris, for whom the entire process had been started in the first place. That was the last thing he had wanted, if only because it had been a feat to win the elf's favor in the first place. He wasn't sure why he wanted it so much, except that it was impossible not to see a reflection of himself in Fenris - the part of him that struggled even now against Malkar's chains.
There was damage control to do, certainly, but he could maybe avoid their ire until later. Ashura's was inevitable, but the rest could wait until he could make it back up to the tower to perform a proper dispersal.
Tying off his hair, Felix slipped off the bed and began to hunt about for his shoes. The more normal he looked the better...