Stranger things have happened.
Day: 2
Characters: Komui Li (keepingchaos), Winters Sokaro (pleasuresinpain)
Summary: Komui is in a bad way, and Sokaro never takes no for an answer.
DAY/NIGHT & Time: Day - around shower time
Status: Closed, incomplete
Sleep, quite different from unconsciousness, had proven a complete impossibility.
By the time they'd dumped him back in his cell, it had only been a few hours until sunrise, and Komui had spent at least a couple of them lying on his back on the floor dazedly staring straight through the ceiling. His captors hadn't taken any great care with him -- his multiple burn wounds had been painfully and haphazardly doused in disinfectant and he'd been left where his unconscious form had fallen after they dragged him back, unbandaged and most certainly without painkillers, tattered patient uniform sticking here and there to the angry burn spots.
And once he'd woken up, despite all efforts, he'd stayed that way. In the last hour or so, he'd stopped bothering to try and sleep entirely. It had just seemed... better to keep his eyes open somehow--
The image, the photograph of that girl-who-was-not-Linali, never quite wanted to disappear from behind his eyelids.
With Xing Ke's help, he'd managed to move himself around enough to sit, leaning heavily against the wall with the intercom. That was where he had stayed all morning, through his half-nibbled-on breakfast, and that was where he was at this moment. His roommate had left Komui behind so he could rest; but, Komui had finally supposed, it might be something resembling helpful to his battered body if he could drag himself down for a cold shower. At the very least, he could wash some of the disgustingly slimy oil off. And maybe there would even be another change of clothes.
But he certainly hadn't expected Sokaro, of all people, to volunteer to come around and see him. Without even being asked -- indeed, having been told that he didn't need to. Komui had known the General for several years, and never once in that time had he gotten the impression that Sokaro regarded him as anyone worth going to any trouble for. Especially not now that they were stuck in this godforsaken asylum, where being 'Supervisor' meant nothing, and Komui had absolutely no sway over anything his former subordinates might choose to do.
It didn't really make any sense.
Characters: Komui Li (keepingchaos), Winters Sokaro (pleasuresinpain)
Summary: Komui is in a bad way, and Sokaro never takes no for an answer.
DAY/NIGHT & Time: Day - around shower time
Status: Closed, incomplete
Sleep, quite different from unconsciousness, had proven a complete impossibility.
By the time they'd dumped him back in his cell, it had only been a few hours until sunrise, and Komui had spent at least a couple of them lying on his back on the floor dazedly staring straight through the ceiling. His captors hadn't taken any great care with him -- his multiple burn wounds had been painfully and haphazardly doused in disinfectant and he'd been left where his unconscious form had fallen after they dragged him back, unbandaged and most certainly without painkillers, tattered patient uniform sticking here and there to the angry burn spots.
And once he'd woken up, despite all efforts, he'd stayed that way. In the last hour or so, he'd stopped bothering to try and sleep entirely. It had just seemed... better to keep his eyes open somehow--
The image, the photograph of that girl-who-was-not-Linali, never quite wanted to disappear from behind his eyelids.
With Xing Ke's help, he'd managed to move himself around enough to sit, leaning heavily against the wall with the intercom. That was where he had stayed all morning, through his half-nibbled-on breakfast, and that was where he was at this moment. His roommate had left Komui behind so he could rest; but, Komui had finally supposed, it might be something resembling helpful to his battered body if he could drag himself down for a cold shower. At the very least, he could wash some of the disgustingly slimy oil off. And maybe there would even be another change of clothes.
But he certainly hadn't expected Sokaro, of all people, to volunteer to come around and see him. Without even being asked -- indeed, having been told that he didn't need to. Komui had known the General for several years, and never once in that time had he gotten the impression that Sokaro regarded him as anyone worth going to any trouble for. Especially not now that they were stuck in this godforsaken asylum, where being 'Supervisor' meant nothing, and Komui had absolutely no sway over anything his former subordinates might choose to do.
It didn't really make any sense.