action | OTA

[professor_charisma]

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 to sulk 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.

Comments

[omniavincit]

[ That's interesting—and maybe unfortunate. Even on the Barge there'd been the death toll, a phantom reminder that a resurrected body still kept score. ] You're taking it personally. [ It's curt, the irritation William's kept from his voice emerging in his posture, the cut of his gaze. He flicks a look around the room, wanting to pace.

Martyrs. ]

What happened—that's not the important part. What's important's what you do now. You gonna talk to them?

[professor_charisma]

[Waver lets out a quiet, annoyed noise at that. But only because William is right.]

Sorry. I guess I am. I'm trying not to.

[At the thought of having to talk to the culprits, Waver folds his arms, frowning in thought.]

Yes. I have to. I... really have no idea what to say., though. I'm sure they don't really care about how I feel about the whole thing. [Not self-deprecation, but stated as fact.]

[omniavincit]

[ William shrugs—the movement paradoxically heavy—and for the first time wishes they were surrounded by something other than the sterility of the infirmary. But where would they go? For a drink? He can't even imagine it—joining the ranks of wardens who responded to everything by crawling into a bottle, wardens with their post-breach binges. ]

How do you feel? [ Not hard to guess, but it's in the telling. ]

[professor_charisma]

[Waver had been trying very hard not to fall back on alcohol, but he's already spent a good portion of his stipend on that tempting warden's lounge liquor cabinet. He's not proud of his inability to handle stress.

His head tilts as he considers that question.]

Embarrassed. Unprofessional. [A light shrug.] Mostly unhappy about the use of violence, both from them and myself.

[Waver had only done what he needed to defend himself, but Travis did come back unconscious from a stun gun shot.]