[complete]
WHO: Rikki and Thom
WHERE: Their apartment
WHEN: October 5th, morning.
WARNINGS: None.
SUMMARY: Thom's powers are not what they're supposed to be.
FORMAT: Quicklog.
[When Thom wakes up, he doesn't feel any different then he did when he went to sleep. Possibly it's because he's tired but all in all, he just stands up, goes for his closet to get clothes, and doesn't realise something's wrong until he reaches to open the door, pulling a little because it's always a bit stuck, and tears it away from its joints.]
Oh shit!
[Of course, just ripping the door out of its joints wouldn't have been enough. Thom lets go in shock, and it falls over on his wall, against the mirror, which shatters and Thom just has the time to cover his head with his hands before the door and the broken mirror fall on him.
He ends up sprawled on the ground, his eyes tightly shut, just happy that he's okay.
Okay with pieces of glass in his forearms. And one lone piece of wood. Which is some very relative 'okay' right here. It's fine. It's fine, he can get the glass out and heal himself -- okay, no, he can't. His hands are not heating up and he's not healing and he's starting to hyperventilate right about now.]
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
WHERE: Their apartment
WHEN: October 5th, morning.
WARNINGS: None.
SUMMARY: Thom's powers are not what they're supposed to be.
FORMAT: Quicklog.
[When Thom wakes up, he doesn't feel any different then he did when he went to sleep. Possibly it's because he's tired but all in all, he just stands up, goes for his closet to get clothes, and doesn't realise something's wrong until he reaches to open the door, pulling a little because it's always a bit stuck, and tears it away from its joints.]
Oh shit!
[Of course, just ripping the door out of its joints wouldn't have been enough. Thom lets go in shock, and it falls over on his wall, against the mirror, which shatters and Thom just has the time to cover his head with his hands before the door and the broken mirror fall on him.
He ends up sprawled on the ground, his eyes tightly shut, just happy that he's okay.
Okay with pieces of glass in his forearms. And one lone piece of wood. Which is some very relative 'okay' right here. It's fine. It's fine, he can get the glass out and heal himself -- okay, no, he can't. His hands are not heating up and he's not healing and he's starting to hyperventilate right about now.]
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.