mr_gaeta: (the first that she be spared the pain)
Felix Gaeta ([personal profile] mr_gaeta) wrote in [community profile] ways_infirmary2012-03-30 10:20 pm

(no subject)

"Alone she sleeps in the shirt of man
With my three wishes clutched in her hand...
"

Simon finally hooked him up to a morpha -- morphine, whatever it's called here -- drip once the nerve block wore off and the supposedly unidentifiable opioid had left his system. Gaeta's half-drowsing, eyes closed in a vain attempt to sleep outright; the pain's still too great, though, and the exhaustion more prominent.

And if he sleeps, that means he can't do the only thing that's worked so far.

"The first that she be spared the pain
That comes from a dark and laughing rain...
"

The words are a little roughened with hoarseness, a touch slurred by morpha -- but his voice still rings clear through the infirmary.



[ooc: for continuity's sake, all threads now take place before Boyd's and Simon's.]
river_meimei: (footfalls echo in the memory)

[personal profile] river_meimei 2012-03-31 03:30 am (UTC)(link)
River can't sing.

And there's not much to dance to, here, in this moment. In this place.

But as she slips inside, her steps match the rhythm too.
river_meimei: (very very crowded)

[personal profile] river_meimei 2012-03-31 07:47 am (UTC)(link)
River flinches, arms wrapping around herself, and her steps falter.

But only for an instant.
river_meimei: (listening unhappily)

[personal profile] river_meimei 2012-04-01 04:14 am (UTC)(link)




"Shhhhhh," whispers River, barely as loud as a breath, when the song doesn't pick back up.

"Gonna be okay."

Closer, now. A few more steps and she'll be at his bed, or at the empty one next to it; it's not yet clear which she's aiming for.
river_meimei: (ships passing in the night)

[personal profile] river_meimei 2012-04-02 03:02 am (UTC)(link)
River's aiming for the empty bed, it seems. She boosts herself up onto it, pulling her knees to her chest, and meets Gaeta's eyes in sober silence.
river_meimei: (i can see you)

[personal profile] river_meimei 2012-04-02 03:57 am (UTC)(link)
It's a look River knows well.

From the inside especially, but not solely.

She waits, hands wrapped around her ankles and body still, until he speaks.

Then: "Hi," she says, quiet and serious.

Beat.

"I followed the track," she adds, in what might be explanation. "It's aural."
river_meimei: (intent)

[personal profile] river_meimei 2012-04-03 02:05 am (UTC)(link)
River looks a little startled.

In a subdued kind of way.

"You're not."

She half-smiles. "Meili," she adds. (This is not a lie, but it may be a certain amount of selective truth.)

"He's following it too."
river_meimei: (glancing)

[personal profile] river_meimei 2012-04-03 02:32 am (UTC)(link)



"You are," River says, hesitantly, after a moment to visibly review the conversation.

It's not quite a question, but very nearly.
river_meimei: (looking down)

[personal profile] river_meimei 2012-04-03 02:58 am (UTC)(link)





"It's not relevant," River tells the floor, low.

River's not very good at clarifying what she means.

Glancing back up, she tries, "Call it a metaphor."

Because it is! But River's not always sure when she's using metaphors and when she isn't and when they're clear to other people, so she may well just be opting for this as a safe bet.
river_meimei: (intent)

[personal profile] river_meimei 2012-04-03 03:44 am (UTC)(link)
River rests her chin on her knees, and breathes out. "River."