Wᴀᴠᴇʀ Vᴇʟᴠᴇᴛ, Lᴏʀᴅ Eʟ-Mᴇʟʟᴏɪ II (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
professor_charisma) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
returnjourneylogs2022-02-17 05:57 am
professor_charisma) wrote in returnjourneylogs2022-02-17 05:57 am
action | OTA
Passengers: Waver & You
Location: Infirmary/Loading Bay
Date: Backdated to Feb. 14th. Happy Valentine's?
Summary: Post-outing scuffle fallout
Warnings: Just one big nerd feeling sorry for himself.
Infirmary
[A shoulder sprain, a cracked rib, head and neck contusions, and a rather burned right hand. All in all, it could have been a lot worse for Waver, and it’s not long before the autodoc has him patched up. He sleeps through the process, desperately in need of rest in a safe place. His dreams are vague but tense; trapped at the edge of a desert cliff, the ocean impossibly far below, a charging army on the horizon.
There’s the beeping of machinery alerting anyone nearby as Waver comes to, good as new. He doesn’t move at first, staring blankly at the sterile ceiling above, letting the reality rush back in. He doesn’t seem awake until he picks up his right arm to look at his hand, which he burned twice in the fight, using the fire as a catalyst for magic. He flexes his long fingers, now unblemished and whole, before laying his hand on his chest. It’s another moment until he sits up, eyes scanning the room. Part of him was hoping he was alone, so he didn’t have to talk yet. Luckily for him, he was not.]
I, ah. I guess I’m all better now.
–
Loading Bay Observatory
[Before he can retreat back to his room and hide for a while tosulk write a very long, very detailed report of the incident, Waver stops at the designated smoking area inside the loading bay. It was cold, but right now that’s what he felt like he needed. It had a way of making you feel awake. Alive.
He’s in there for a long time, blankly watching the equipment mindlessly roll back and forth. As you approach, he’s finishing up one cigarette, which he stubs out on a nearby railing, before immediately taking another from his pack. He lights it up with a spell, using two fingers not unlike an old car lighter, holding them to the end until it begins to smolder. He pokes sadly at his nearly empty packet, sighing deeply, a quick cloud of smoke emanating from him. Only two left after this.]
Not good.
Location: Infirmary/Loading Bay
Date: Backdated to Feb. 14th. Happy Valentine's?
Summary: Post-outing scuffle fallout
Warnings: Just one big nerd feeling sorry for himself.
Infirmary
[A shoulder sprain, a cracked rib, head and neck contusions, and a rather burned right hand. All in all, it could have been a lot worse for Waver, and it’s not long before the autodoc has him patched up. He sleeps through the process, desperately in need of rest in a safe place. His dreams are vague but tense; trapped at the edge of a desert cliff, the ocean impossibly far below, a charging army on the horizon.
There’s the beeping of machinery alerting anyone nearby as Waver comes to, good as new. He doesn’t move at first, staring blankly at the sterile ceiling above, letting the reality rush back in. He doesn’t seem awake until he picks up his right arm to look at his hand, which he burned twice in the fight, using the fire as a catalyst for magic. He flexes his long fingers, now unblemished and whole, before laying his hand on his chest. It’s another moment until he sits up, eyes scanning the room. Part of him was hoping he was alone, so he didn’t have to talk yet. Luckily for him, he was not.]
I, ah. I guess I’m all better now.
–
Loading Bay Observatory
[Before he can retreat back to his room and hide for a while to
He’s in there for a long time, blankly watching the equipment mindlessly roll back and forth. As you approach, he’s finishing up one cigarette, which he stubs out on a nearby railing, before immediately taking another from his pack. He lights it up with a spell, using two fingers not unlike an old car lighter, holding them to the end until it begins to smolder. He pokes sadly at his nearly empty packet, sighing deeply, a quick cloud of smoke emanating from him. Only two left after this.]
Not good.