[One really doesn't have to witness the entire scene to get the gist of it, but Jill sees plenty enough.
There's no emotional break in her voice, no helpless frustration because she's seen how this goes by now. There's earnest concern -- nothing compared to how she's really feeling at the moment -- but it's tempered by something like solidity.
The result? As worried about him as she is, as scared for him as she is, those feelings are just used to help her stay level-headed and calm for the most part.]
[The nurse, the foreign hell beast that she is, steps out of the room just before Jill speaks, leaving John restrained and on the other side of the claustrophobia-inducing room. The sheets against him are already sporting wet spots as he heaves in for air, clearly hyperventilating. The drug is something that would knock out a man twice his size, but with all the adrenaline, terror, and clear shock he's in, his eyelids are fluttering open and shut, though when shut they only seem to want to open. Who knows what he's seeing behind tired, closed lids anyway? His wrists struggle, the straps wearing harsh red marks into him. It's clear he hears something, but with what's just happened, he can't be sure if it's demonic whisperings lulling him back into a state of rage-fueled semi-fear or if it's someone who honestly is worried. As far as he knows, after all, he's in a ward.]
John -- John, listen to me. It's Jill. You need -- to focus. [Still calm, but firm, she talks slow enough to emphasize each word but quick enough that his drugged brain hopefully won't lose track between each one.]
[His jaw contorts as he hisses, teeth ground together in a way that looks extremely painful, as though if he bites down hard enough he can ground himself back in a reality that he has never been able to share with the rest of mankind. The sound of bone against bone squeaks for a moment, and then he relaxes and all but takes in heavy gulps for air, blood rushing to redden parts of his body before it quickly pales to chalky white and worse. His lips, usually abnormally red, are losing that, turning a more muted pink, a bit of saliva forming at the corner of his lips as it seems the man is floundering, a fish out of water, unable to gain any semblance of natural bearing
( ... )
[As with Jill, he's still moving from positions of exhausted looseness to extreme tautness without any seemingly medical issue. No epilepsy, nothing that would cause him to physically seize, but he can't help it. His body is, at one time, relaxed and heaving for air against the now wet sheets; the next, he's arched upwards as though a spike of searing pain has burst in the small of his back, as though there's something trying to get out, or something he wants to get out. The corner of his mouth is stained with a small smattering of blood has trickled from yellowed canine biting into a muted pink lip too harshly. But all he can do is pray fervently through hisses and gasps for air, barely audible.]
God our Father, you loved the world so much you gave your only Son to free us from the ancient power of sin and death. Help us who wait for his coming and lead us to true liberty. We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen
[In the last few seconds of her words, John hasn't moved at all. He's passed out completely against the dampened bed, the only movement being the occasional flitting of his eyelids. He's out cold, and all the yelling in the world won't counteract the dose of sedative that's now taken hold.
[Christine is almost physically ill. Now at least she can see why he hated the thought of hospitals. The very thought of what is going on hardly sinks in completely as she stares for all of thee seconds.]
Where are you?!
[She may not be overly fond of John on any given day, but he saved her life once, and the hell is she not going to repay the favor.]
[The worst part, maybe, if he chooses to tell her at any point, is that this is a very tame experience.
Still, the sedative is a strong one, and he lays in the bed, now soaked and staining with sweat, completely dead to the world. His fingers don't even twitch or move, his eyelids seem to be flat against unmoving eyes behind them. There is no calling John out now; he'll be here, stuck, unless it's possible for someone to come through the exact same place as he.]
[Christine curse and tries to see if she recognizes any of the equipment around him. She can't tell what drug they gave him which is concerning her. She can't do much from here and for the first time in a while Christine is so angry she can't even pretend to be in control.]
You better fucking stay alive, or I'm going to nag you all the way into whatever afterlife comes after this!
[It's simply an IV and restraints on a plain bed, not a proper hospital bed but a rather cost-efficient one, one typically used, most likely, for patients not meant to be in them very long. Or, a more terrorizing thought, for one not very well-off in the money or personality department.
The cursing brings a slight, tiny quirk to the corner of his mouth, a few drops of blood from having bitten into his lip stuck firmly in place.
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There's no emotional break in her voice, no helpless frustration because she's seen how this goes by now. There's earnest concern -- nothing compared to how she's really feeling at the moment -- but it's tempered by something like solidity.
The result? As worried about him as she is, as scared for him as she is, those feelings are just used to help her stay level-headed and calm for the most part.]
John! John, can you hear me?
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You need to wake up!
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God our Father,
you loved the world so much
you gave your only Son to free us
from the ancient power of sin and death.
Help us who wait for his coming
and lead us to true liberty.
We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever. Amen
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John!
Is this one of those dreams people are having?
Where are you!?
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Sorry, Elena.]
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Where are you?!
[She may not be overly fond of John on any given day, but he saved her life once, and the hell is she not going to repay the favor.]
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Still, the sedative is a strong one, and he lays in the bed, now soaked and staining with sweat, completely dead to the world. His fingers don't even twitch or move, his eyelids seem to be flat against unmoving eyes behind them. There is no calling John out now; he'll be here, stuck, unless it's possible for someone to come through the exact same place as he.]
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[Christine curse and tries to see if she recognizes any of the equipment around him. She can't tell what drug they gave him which is concerning her. She can't do much from here and for the first time in a while Christine is so angry she can't even pretend to be in control.]
You better fucking stay alive, or I'm going to nag you all the way into whatever afterlife comes after this!
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The cursing brings a slight, tiny quirk to the corner of his mouth, a few drops of blood from having bitten into his lip stuck firmly in place.
Sorry, Christine. John's not here right now.]
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