What a nightmare. What an absolute nightmare. Sailor Gianfar was unhappy in so many ways; he was hot, his shoulder throbbed with pain, he was tired despite the sudden burst of energy he was feeling, and he was frustrated. Ohhhh was he frustrated. He helped Ganymede, he had stuck by his side, he'd tried to help him and they'd been getting along until the other senshi decided the middle of a chaotic battle was the proper time for one to question their purpose and decide they wanted to give up. It just wasn't. Gianfar was all for epiphanies but not those kinds of epiphanies. And the flaming leopard didn't help matters any. He felt bad for leaving Atlas and Ganymede behind like that, he truly did, but instinct was telling him to get away from the fiery ball of death and claws even if it was being ridden by an adorably tiny little senshi screaming at them about Big Kitty's home. Before he could even attempt to dodge it he was smacked with giant tail into the pit of darkness, and just like that...he was awake.
"NO!" He suddenly cried as he sat up sharply in his desk chair, nearly falling out of the chair and onto the floor; he only managed to save it because he grabbed the edges of his desk. Eyes wide and breathing heavy, Dietrich stared down at his open text books and running laptop as if he had just seen the most horrific thing a man could see. Wait...he...he was back? Really? He coughed and dropped his hands from his desk, giving a wince and reaching back with one hand to reach through the neck of his shirt and feel the back of his shoulder. Ow! Owowow! He still had that cut?! It stung as he felt it and it hurt so bad when he moved his shoulder so he could feel the injury. He didn't need a better sign to stop doing that.
So that was a real battle, huh? Dietrich stood and groaned tiredly, wincing again as the pain in his shoulder shocked through his system. Ow. He walked across the apartment to go into the bathroom, flicking the light on with his good arm and locking the door behind him. Mirror, mirror, he needed a mirror. Hopefully Breau wouldn't wake up anytime soon; Dietrich would rather he not see the bleeding gash in the back of his shoulder. He turned his back to the bathroom mirror and took off his shirt as he did his best to look over his shoulder and see what the damage was. Ah, yeah. That was just how he imagined it to be. The cut itself was about the size of a golf ball, but luckily it didn't seem to be too terribly deep. It'd heal. And he could just...bandage it. Or something. He'd manage! He could do this. He didn't want to worry anyone. Oh! But he'd need a story. Dietrich frowned and bit down on the end of his thumb, looking toward the bathroom door. He needed a story. Obviously he couldn't tell the truth, he'd have to make up something. Some totally farfetched tale that would make it obvious he didn't want to explain it.
He was attacked by a unicorn on the top of Mount Rushmore while excavating for remains of a rare dinosaur no one had ever seen the likes of before could work.
But first things first, Dietrich needed to get this cleaned up. Was the rock in there? No? Good. He did not want to have to remove it. Ugh. This was going to be a challenge, but maybe he could get something done for now and just get a doctor to do it later? That could work. He was not looking forward to walking around with this for however long it took to heal. He cleaned it as best as he could, wincing every time he moved in just the wrong way and very sloppily wrapping himself with whatever form of bandage he could find in the bathroom cabinets. He'd go to the doctor tomorrow and get it checked out more formally, but for now Dietrich just wanted to pass out for the rest of the night. Which was exactly what he did, turning off the light and trudging back to his room, he collapsed unceremoniously onto his bed and laid with his face in the pillow, lying on his stomach and generally not caring right now how stupid he looked with his legs half hanging off the bed. He just hoped he didn't dream right about now.
"NO!" He suddenly cried as he sat up sharply in his desk chair, nearly falling out of the chair and onto the floor; he only managed to save it because he grabbed the edges of his desk. Eyes wide and breathing heavy, Dietrich stared down at his open text books and running laptop as if he had just seen the most horrific thing a man could see. Wait...he...he was back? Really? He coughed and dropped his hands from his desk, giving a wince and reaching back with one hand to reach through the neck of his shirt and feel the back of his shoulder. Ow! Owowow! He still had that cut?! It stung as he felt it and it hurt so bad when he moved his shoulder so he could feel the injury. He didn't need a better sign to stop doing that.
So that was a real battle, huh? Dietrich stood and groaned tiredly, wincing again as the pain in his shoulder shocked through his system. Ow. He walked across the apartment to go into the bathroom, flicking the light on with his good arm and locking the door behind him. Mirror, mirror, he needed a mirror. Hopefully Breau wouldn't wake up anytime soon; Dietrich would rather he not see the bleeding gash in the back of his shoulder. He turned his back to the bathroom mirror and took off his shirt as he did his best to look over his shoulder and see what the damage was. Ah, yeah. That was just how he imagined it to be. The cut itself was about the size of a golf ball, but luckily it didn't seem to be too terribly deep. It'd heal. And he could just...bandage it. Or something. He'd manage! He could do this. He didn't want to worry anyone. Oh! But he'd need a story. Dietrich frowned and bit down on the end of his thumb, looking toward the bathroom door. He needed a story. Obviously he couldn't tell the truth, he'd have to make up something. Some totally farfetched tale that would make it obvious he didn't want to explain it.
He was attacked by a unicorn on the top of Mount Rushmore while excavating for remains of a rare dinosaur no one had ever seen the likes of before could work.
But first things first, Dietrich needed to get this cleaned up. Was the rock in there? No? Good. He did not want to have to remove it. Ugh. This was going to be a challenge, but maybe he could get something done for now and just get a doctor to do it later? That could work. He was not looking forward to walking around with this for however long it took to heal. He cleaned it as best as he could, wincing every time he moved in just the wrong way and very sloppily wrapping himself with whatever form of bandage he could find in the bathroom cabinets. He'd go to the doctor tomorrow and get it checked out more formally, but for now Dietrich just wanted to pass out for the rest of the night. Which was exactly what he did, turning off the light and trudging back to his room, he collapsed unceremoniously onto his bed and laid with his face in the pillow, lying on his stomach and generally not caring right now how stupid he looked with his legs half hanging off the bed. He just hoped he didn't dream right about now.
