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 Posted: Sat Sep 29, 2012 10:15 pm
When news that Petra, now Morris was in the hospital wing in intensive care, as far as Hunters went, it had hit Jerry a lot lighter than it aught to have. A couple days ago he would have been grim and terrified, but now? With the rose tucked behind his ear and the sun shining so brightly behind the ceiling of fog and nice cool linoleum under his filthy bare feet, he knew just what the wounded woman needed. It all was so simple.
The sound of cheerful light soprano chords resonated ahead of him into the hospital room before he even poked his grinning head through the door.
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Posted: Sat Sep 29, 2012 11:59 pm
Normally, the sound of bare feet on something as completely unyielding as linoleum would have been engulfed by the other sounds of everyday living. Certainly in Dues it was this way; there was always someone running somewhere, the idle chatter of missions and the occasional metallic scrape of weapons mingling with the scuffling of feet, reverberating off the blinding white walls. It was the nature of the beast when you lived in such a busy place with countless other people, silence really wasn't something you experienced very often, unless you happened to have a private office or your own home away from Deus Main HQ, as the full hunters did. Even deep in the labs, alone, there was always the sound of technology around you, hisses and crackling of electric current, or the whir and beep of computer screens flashing constantly-updating information or scrolling lines and lines of code.
In a corner of the infirmary, however, midway in the back sort of in the no-where-in-particular middle, there was almost silence. The steady beat of a heart monitor, drumming a faithful rhythm, was the only interruption of the stillness of the air. The rustle of lab coats, lined with hunter-gold and sporting the spidering branches of the Life division, was dampened by the numerous beds and equiptment in the room, so it didn't quite reach to the other wall, where the only occupant in that particular row of beds was especially quiet. So while normally, the quiet pad of bare feet would be impossible to hear, one battered Death trainee heard Jerry's approach a few good moments before he peeked his head in the door.
If it wasn't the footsteps, it was definitely the cheerful pluck of ukulele strings.
Petra Morris tilted her head a little to glance at the door as the song warbled sweetly into the quiet room, made easier by the mound of pillows propped beneath her back and head. Robert had kept his promise; when he wasn't in a mission or sleeping, he came to visit her every hour, dotingly checking to see if there was anything, anything at all, she wanted. When she had no request, he made sure she was comfortable, bringing her more pillows and adjusting them with the same lovingly fretting manner as a loyal dog. The result was a cloud of pillows and several vases worth of jungle wildflowers, quite obviously collected from the dense foliage surrounding Dues, and although it gave the nearby bed the air of popularity, in truth the occupant had had no other visitors.
The truth was, Petra Morris didn't have any friends. Not really. She had alienated everyone, with the exception of her husband, cold and impersonal exterior mixing like poison with her uncanny ability to disappear for long periods of time to leave her close to no one. It as one thing he was good at.
It didn't matter. After what Cass had done, she wasn't convinced friendship was real.
The one possible exception, however, had just poked his head into the infirmary, grinning like a loon and strumming a ukulele in a gay fashion. From where she lay, Petra's bruised expression brightened the slightest, almost undetectable degree, her eyes glittering just slightly to offer him welcome. Despite the drugs, she hadn't been sleeping well as of late, nightmares and strange, haunting dreams keeping her from uninterrupted rest. Darkness circled her eyes, making her stare all the more daunting, less indistinguishable now that the bruises were slowly starting to fade. She offered him the barest hint of a smile none-the-less, her heavy heart lifting a little at his presence, her mind no longer left to its own torturous devices.
She didn't speak -- he knew her well enough that he likely would not be offended -- but if expressions were words, hers would have been a little heart.
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Sep 30, 2012 12:18 am
"Oh my goodness, you look awful" The man hadn't shaved in what seemed like over a week now, and smelled like it had been a while since he had changed his obnoxious shirt as he wobbled over to sit in the chair usually occupied by Robert. A lab-tech had yet to track down the source of the grubby footprints left behind him. The important thing was he didn't smell of alcohol. If anything, he smelled of roses.
And a good hefty dose of unwashed hippie.
His playing never ceased. "But don't you worry, I have just the thing!"
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Posted: Sun Sep 30, 2012 12:42 am
She was feeling a little better already. Well enough to give him a slightly flat look at his assessment of her state of being, although it was not for the reasons one might have thought. It wasn't that her feelings were hurt by what he said -- she really wasn't the type to be hurt by something so trivial as that -- but the fact that his state of being looked just as bad as hers... and he certainly smelled worse. Looking for all the world like she was scolding him a little, she followed him with her eyes, all the way to the chair, unblinking, until finally he seated himself. Only when he'd done so did the Death trainee relax marginally, seemingly giving up on attempting to shame him into taking better care of himself.
It was a lost cause. They cared about each other, certainly, but neither listened to the other's advice, merely patting each other on the hand and then turning around to do whatever it was they were inclined to do.
Relaxing back fully against her pillow-mountain again, Petra let her eyes slide shut for a moment as he continued to play, drawing in a slow breath and exhaling quietly in a sigh. If she tuned a few things out, helped along by the wildflowers on the nearby table, she could almost enjoy the sweet smell of roses which followed him. When he spoke again, she let them drift open again, turning to him with an air of curiosity, eyebrows lifted a bit in question. When she'd fully realized what he'd said, however, her expression immediately turned a little skeptical.
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Sep 30, 2012 1:02 am
"I see you've got loads of flowers already," He was rather attached to his own, honestly, and was relieved it looked like an army (or Robert) had beaten him to it. He had something better, in his opinion. She didn't need to say a word... the chords slowed a moment, punctuating each line as he sang:
"When you're feeling out of sorts
and bumped and bruised and raw
Broken bones and cuts on your reports
and all those things you saw-
Just remember as you lay
healing on your bed,
Victory's the only thing
defeat is in your head!"
Strumma-strumma- the notes picked up.
"Oooooh~ Each bruise is a lesson,
Each busted spleen a valid point,
And after each learning session,
You'll feel it in each joint!
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger,
So remember that, my dear!
Always hold out a little longer,
there is nothing to ever fear."
With a flurry of chords and notes, the man stopped and beamed proudly. A couple rose pedals dropped from the rose tucked behind his ear to land on her blanket as he awaited her response.
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Posted: Sun Sep 30, 2012 2:24 pm
A song. Who didn't see this coming?
Giving the strung-out hunter a look of patient indulgence, Petra shifted a little in the river of white which was the hospital bed, straining a little to control her unresponsive limbs to sit up a bit more and devote her attention to Jerry's undoubtedly original song. If he seemed reluctant to give up his rose, she either seemed to not mind or was completely oblivious that this was even a consideration, her attention momentarily diverted to this monumental task of wiggling her body into a moderately-upright position. When she was finally satisfied, or at least too frustrated to bother with it anymore, the Death trainee folded her hands gently in her lap, sitting back to listen politely.
As always, his song was quite impressive. The once-Zeta had always seemed to have a knack for coming up with catchy tunes and appropriate lyrics, effortlessly spinning eloquent ballads or acting the jester to bring a smile to the faces of those around him. So Petra wasn't really surprised when the sweet little song that came from the deft strumming of long fingers against taut strings and the cheerful notes Jerry sang was nothing less than flawlessly performed. What she was surprised at, however, was the words themselves that he was singing. Cocking her head slowly to the side, a bewildered expression began to cross the pale-haired girl's features as she listened. Was he trying to tell her that she had deserved to be beaten? That she needed to be taught a lesson? Did Cass have a 'valid point?'
The last enthusiastic strum vibrated gently through the air, fading slowly into a gentle hum before dissipating completely, leaving Jerry to beam proudly at his audience. Petra's response, however, was probably not exactly what he had been hoping for. Head still remaining cocked to the side, the Death trainee gave him the most confused look, eyes locked blankly on the disheveled man for a second before they flickered down to the petals which had fluttered down onto the pristine white sheets. Eyebrows smoothing a little, she blinked at them, gaze widening a little at the starkness of their color against the albino sea, bizarrely fascinated by them. In reality, it was just the drugs doing funny things to her mind, twisting the pretty peach color into vibrancy, and making the sheets that much more blindingly white. And then the color was singing, but she couldn't hear it she could only feel it...
...whoa.
Reaching for them slowly, as if they might jump away, Petra curled her fingers awkwardly around the petals before tilting her eyes back up at Jerry in surprise. Giving him an equally as expectant look, she leaned forward a little to place them gently in his lap.
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Sep 30, 2012 2:44 pm
His brows furrowed as he tried to decipher her response. Was that a good critique? A bad one? Was she just so doped up on pain killers she didn't quite know what was going on?
It was unsettling seeing her this way, like a confused child and-
He inhaled deeply, smile not wavering as he reached deep down into his Jerry place. "Honestly I don't know what happened, really," He reached to her outstretched hand to take the fallen petals from her with his own furrowed brows, "But I mean... that's all we can do from any fight lost, right? Learn and kick a** the next time! Ahahahahahha..."
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Posted: Sun Sep 30, 2012 3:12 pm
For once, Jerry was unshakable. Which was good, because Petra was in no position to be her namesake, her entire world a confusing jumble of painkillers that wouldn't let her logic anything out. He wasn't satisfied by her response, but his response smoothed her expression again, pacifying her bewilderment, as if his answer had lead them in the direction she had been hoping.
Well... hoping was kind of a strong word, considering she couldn't have told you why she was hoping that at all, right then.
The Death trainee didn't echo his laugh, but that wasn't unusual for her, even without the medication keeping her from understanding his humor. Instead, she merely listened politely again, waiting until he was finished before she spoke up, her eyes searching his face curiously. "Me or you?" she asked, not unkindly, merely questioning.
What neither of them really knew was that, subconsciously, she had been asking about his rose when she'd given the petals back to him. Had she been in her right mind, it would have piqued her curiosity from the start, but even in her cracked-out mind, it was important in a way she couldn't quite put her finger on. Part of her knew something was wrong, although it wasn't a very active part of her at the moment, her conscious brain finding it so difficult to fight through the haze and distortion.
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Sep 30, 2012 3:33 pm
And then she spoke. Jerry jumped, but immediately set the instrument down on his lap to reach for Petra's hand gently. "What?"
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Posted: Sun Sep 30, 2012 3:54 pm
"You said you don't know what happened," she replied calmly, clearly unfazed by his reaction, "That we should learn and kick a** the next time."
Pausing a minute for clarity, she waited patiently for it to dawn on him what she meant.
"Me or you?"
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Sep 30, 2012 4:32 pm
That took him off guard, his eyes darting a moment as he tried to register what she could mean. "Everyone, man." He replied casually, still softly smiling before pursing his lips. "I don't like seeing you like this. How... how'd you manage??" He hadn't really heard the details, but everything was feeling fairly numb lately.
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Posted: Wed Oct 03, 2012 12:31 pm
That seemed like an evasive answer to her, but Petra accepted it for now, finding the struggle of wrestling Jerry for answers to be too mentally exhausting at this point. In fact, she wasn't quite sure if anything was wrong; besides the smell, and the fact that he looked like he had been wearing the same clothes for a week, really all she had to go on was the rose, which seemed rather strange to the Death Trainee, but she couldn't quite place why. The rest of it? Well, sometimes that was Jerry for you. When Killzone told him to wear a rainbow tie dye leotard, the Sun Hunter did it.
... actually, she'd been the only one who hadn't. And now Killzone was dead, an ordeal which was having a surprisingly crippling effect on her. He'd ordained Robert's and her wedding. He'd been the only one of the damn higher-ups she'd ever felt gave two shits about them. And she had refused to put on the damn leotard.
Her expression turned pained as she mused, but as she had done since the day Killzone had died, she forcefully shoved it away, compressing it until it had been subdued. Turning back to Jerry, Petra blinked once in mild bewilderment as he spoke again, head cocking slightly to the side as she tried to interpret what he meant. "How'd I manage...?" she prompted quizzically, "You mean, in what ordeal did I participate in which the conclusion was hospitalization?"
At this, her poker face returned, all hints of the drug-induced expressiveness vanishing.
"An altercation between Cass and I escalated quickly."
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Wed Oct 03, 2012 10:05 pm
"Well that's no good!" Jerry straightened, looking utterly disappointed, "Goodness, I know you are a lady of few words, but certainly there were ways to avoid that sort of thing!" He crossed his arms, "What on earth could you two have been arguing over that ended in this?" He motioned to the state of the bed and it's contents.
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