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ways_infirmary2006-12-01 05:26 am
krisofvaldemar.livejournal.com) wrote in ways_infirmary2006-12-01 05:26 am
(no subject)
(Millitimed to 'sometime post-surgery but before he's recovered enough to be in the Bar proper.' open to anyone who wants to tag.)
The pain's a dim ache now. Fading. No worse than he's gotten in other battles, or classes with Alberich at the Collegium.
He rests. There's not much else to do. Yet. The room's blessedly quiet and warm. He'd had enough of cold that was deep enough to 'burn'.
The drugs can't reach the worst of it. His shoulder and arm will heal, if perhaps not to be the same as they were. Deal with that later. He won't be the first Herald to carry lifelong scars. Being a lawgiver's never been promised to be a safe vocation.
He thinks he remembers thanking both the doctor and the redhaired woman. Kris isn't sure. He hopes so. They remind him of some of his friends from Haven, Rachel in particular brings Keren(or Talia) to mind. Simon Tam and Devan would get on well, he thinks randomly. The thought makes him smile, for a second.
It's near to winter. He can feel the chill in the air; when he sat up and looked out a window, clumsily, he'd got a view of the landscape. Leafless trees.
Motes of snow, light flurries, blown on a gust of wind.
It had been summer when he and the others came to Hardorn. To the Palace...
NO.
He knows damn well it hasn't been months or even days since he found himself here.
How that could be, Kris doesn't understand(Gates are the stuff of legend in his Valdemar, and not popularly known legend even amongst Heralds. Not in his time.)
He has to not let himself be pulled back into nightmarish memories. Letting the fear
rule him is not something a Herald will permit. Ah, no shame in admitting he's afraid, but he won't do that save to another Herald, or perhaps a Companion.
They.
He'll find them. If he survived, Tantris, Talia, and Rolan have a chance to do the same. He has to believe that.
Fragile hopes. A thin but hard thread that he clings to.
He's shielded as best as he can manage, not letting outside thoughts reach him, nor his own be broadcast. He can't know how many of the people nearby are Mindspeakers or possibly Empaths. They don't need to have Kris' problems burst in on them.
It's the only way he can bear the feeling of (nothingness) that's "where" Tantris should be. He'd tried again to call to his Companion, upon waking, unsuccessfully.
The bond's like a heavy weight that he still carries, unmoved, but.
Dead weight. Lifeless--
No!
Stay in this moment. Don't speculate. You'll know what to do, when the time comes.
Until then, don't look, don't reach, don't weep.
Just. Breathe., Damn. It!
The pain's a dim ache now. Fading. No worse than he's gotten in other battles, or classes with Alberich at the Collegium.
He rests. There's not much else to do. Yet. The room's blessedly quiet and warm. He'd had enough of cold that was deep enough to 'burn'.
The drugs can't reach the worst of it. His shoulder and arm will heal, if perhaps not to be the same as they were. Deal with that later. He won't be the first Herald to carry lifelong scars. Being a lawgiver's never been promised to be a safe vocation.
He thinks he remembers thanking both the doctor and the redhaired woman. Kris isn't sure. He hopes so. They remind him of some of his friends from Haven, Rachel in particular brings Keren(or Talia) to mind. Simon Tam and Devan would get on well, he thinks randomly. The thought makes him smile, for a second.
It's near to winter. He can feel the chill in the air; when he sat up and looked out a window, clumsily, he'd got a view of the landscape. Leafless trees.
Motes of snow, light flurries, blown on a gust of wind.
It had been summer when he and the others came to Hardorn. To the Palace...
NO.
He knows damn well it hasn't been months or even days since he found himself here.
How that could be, Kris doesn't understand(Gates are the stuff of legend in his Valdemar, and not popularly known legend even amongst Heralds. Not in his time.)
He has to not let himself be pulled back into nightmarish memories. Letting the fear
rule him is not something a Herald will permit. Ah, no shame in admitting he's afraid, but he won't do that save to another Herald, or perhaps a Companion.
They.
He'll find them. If he survived, Tantris, Talia, and Rolan have a chance to do the same. He has to believe that.
Fragile hopes. A thin but hard thread that he clings to.
He's shielded as best as he can manage, not letting outside thoughts reach him, nor his own be broadcast. He can't know how many of the people nearby are Mindspeakers or possibly Empaths. They don't need to have Kris' problems burst in on them.
It's the only way he can bear the feeling of (nothingness) that's "where" Tantris should be. He'd tried again to call to his Companion, upon waking, unsuccessfully.
The bond's like a heavy weight that he still carries, unmoved, but.
Dead weight. Lifeless--
No!
Stay in this moment. Don't speculate. You'll know what to do, when the time comes.
Until then, don't look, don't reach, don't weep.
Just. Breathe., Damn. It!