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 Posted: Thu Mar 31, 2016 8:24 pm
As soon as she had received the text message, Gwen was up and moving. It took her almost no time to switch out of her pajamas and into jeans, a slouchy green sweater, and sneakers. She didn’t even waste time to fuss with her hair, opting to wrangle it up into a messy bun before nabbing her coat and keys and hurrying out the door. Thankfully there was no front that morning and Gwen was able to hop into the car with no more delays.
The drive to the hospital was an anxious one as Gwen’s mind ran rampant on what could have possibly led Isaiah to be admitted. In Destiny City the options for injury created quite the list which worried the redhead even more. Isaiah’s message didn’t help at all either in it’s short and concise nature letting her know where he was but giving no details. She intended to give him a piece of her mind about that one once she got there. If she ever got there with the amount of traffic there was! Why, oh why, was there always issues when she needed to get somewhere in a hurry?
When she finally reached the hospital that Isaiah had indicated, Gwen parked the car and hurried inside. The place seemed rather busy as nurses and doctors bustled around in an almost frantic rate. I wonder if something big happened. She mused quietly to herself as she walked up to the desk. An older woman eyed her before walking over. “I am here to see an Isaiah Zahne. He was admitted earlier this morning.”
The woman, a nurse Gwen assumed, began perusing a bunch of files that were sitting on her desk before pulling one, flipping it open, and giving it a quick glance. “He’s in room 642. You take the elevator down that hall there up to the sixth floor and make a left when you get out.”
With a nod, Gwen headed off in the direction indicated. A few minutes later she was standing outside room 642. The door was propped open so Gwen poked her head inside to find two beds, one was empty but the other was occupied by the man she’d expressly come here to see. For the most part he looked in relatively good shape if not battered and exhausted. “You know, sending a vague text message that you’re in the hospital, and not saying what kind of shape you’re in is not the best thing to do if you don’t want me worrying myself sick on the way here.” Despite her accusation, it was obvious she wasn’t putting her heart into chastising him. Instead she walked up to the side of the bed and sighed. “What happened?” She questioned. Genuinely worried.
It was with bleary eyes that Isaiah first noticed Gwen, though it grew apparent that he did not mentally acknowledge her there at first. Perhaps the feedback loop of visual stimuli to mental processing grew terribly slow that day, for the recognition of Gwen spread across Isaiah’s face nakedly in the form of an unabashed smile. He was, obviously enough, happy to see her there - concerned vitriol and all.
“Hi Gwen.” He did not wave, but instead continued his sunken lounge against the pillows. The bed sat in a vague S shape, undoubtedly from the gurney controls in arm’s reach, and facilitated his reclining. Were he in better shape, and in a far different venue, the posture may have suited a proper model sketch. Instead, the ambience of the clinically dry hospital room left him looking wasted and taxed. The neutral lighting scheme with sunlight filtering through the screens only served to highlight his anemic pallor. In all, his appearance contrasted quite harshly with his demeanor.
“It gets hard to type with one of these.” Holding up one hand, Isaiah showed off the needle taped along prominent metacarpals. “And my phone was dying. There’s no chargers here for it, either. Wouldn’t it be nice if hospitals had some of those convenient charging stands like you see in the airports?” However, Gwen looked like she wasn’t in the mood for idle jokes and conversation. She expected an answer out of him, probably, though he felt she was acting a little uptight over it. He wasn’t dead, after all, and he felt quite good. The gentle warmth of morphine far outweighed the nausea it induced, and the antiemetic paired with his saline drip did wonders for that. Yet, as he sat up for too long now, he couldn’t ignore the fact that the room whirled ceaselessly around him.
As he lay fully on his side, arms outstretched toward her in a pile of bones and hands, Isaiah committed to a fantastic answer. “Dragons happened. Well, one dragon.” He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh. The linens at the hospital housed very little smell, and he found himself wanting the blankets from home. Maybe he could request one that Tastykake furred up… “There was a lot of burning. Dragons and scorpions… Something like that. I’m so tired.”
To say that Isaiah looked terrible would be an understatement. Gwen had never seen the man look so drawn and, to put it frankly, ill. It was disturbing for Gwen to see, but she wasn’t about to say anything to him about it. Having people walk in and comment ‘Oh wow, you look terrible’ wasn’t the best of ways to make anyone feel better. Not that she was sure anything at this point would make him feel bad if they were pumping into him anything for pain, which, she had the distinct feeling they were with how he was acting. Not having visited hospitals really, nor having had much interest in medicinal practices beyond whatever she used at home, Gwen didn’t necessarily know what they were pumping into him besides the obvious.
She had to admit though, his reaction to her appearance was heartwarming. Painful because he was definitely not himself, but heartwarming at the same time.
Spotting a chair off in the corner, Gwen grabbed it and dragged to Isaiah’s bedside as he explained his inability to elaborate on his text message. “Alright. Fair enough.” She plopped herself into the chair. It creaked gently under her weight while the cushions threatened to swallow her up in their well worn state. Carefully she reached out a hand, taking one of his (without the IV) gently and brushed her thumb over the top in a comforting gesture both for him and herself. “I’ll make sure to grab your phone charger and bring it for ya.”
And then he went on his spiel about dragons. Gwen’s brows knitted together as she listened to the absurd story. “Jesus, whatever they’re giving you for pain is doing quite the number. Maybe I should ask them for some.” She joked with a chuckle. “You must have had some interesting dream.” He wasn’t making any sense to her and not getting any answers wasn’t helping her incessant worrying. Though Isaiah may think of her as uptight because of it, she was seriously worried about him. I may need to ask a doctor on the way out what happened. Hopefully they’ll have some answers. It was obvious she wasn’t going to get anything straight from her roommate. Not at the moment, anyway.
Feeling a need to try and keep things light to keep herself from worrying more and to try and placate ISaiah Gwen sighed softly. “Now just because you’re hurt doesn’t mean I’ll be waiting on you hand and foot when you get home.” She smiled, all the while her thumb drew gentle strokes across the top of his hand as she leaned in. “I can’t be babying you.”
If Gwen was honest with herself, babying Isaiah was probably exactly what she’d want to do. She hated seeing anyone she cared for in pain.
”It isn’t, though,” he muttered softly. Hazel eyes fell on the hand holding his, and he watched the slow thumb strokes. It felt pleasant, welcome, after all the touch used specifically to heal or immobilize. There was a marked distancing to the latter, where the former harbored no explicit barriers. Isaiah closed his eyes and breathed a slow sigh. “It feels a lot… Cleaner than what I’m used to. It is, of course. I don’t know why I complained about it. I missed this feeling. A lot. More than you could imagine.” He broke for a light chuckle. “It’s like… Finding heaven. Even if you’re atheist. That’s how it’s always been, every single time.”
When he opened eyes again, he looked to her intently. He studied the lines that formed in her face, deep creases around the eyes from worry and unrest, and the pallor of her skin. He took in the way stray strands of hair draped before her face, a veil cast over her countenance. Studs punctuated her ears, and another crop of hair hid over half the shell from prying eyes. The rest of her hair remained a mess in a quick ponytail that somehow looked better on her than a careful pleated braid. Perhaps he liked the honesty of it. He didn’t find the need to ask himself.
“I was living alone when I got attacked; I’m pretty good at taking care of myself.” He still healed in the end, even with all the blatant pushing of his abilities and natural resistance to asking for help. He needed constant self-reminders of the need for outside assistance to avoid damaging himself further. Mostly it succeeded, though there were times that he injured himself further in overextending his abilities. Undoubtedly Gwen would have to pick up some of the slack; if she didn’t, he’d have to stay elsewhere during the healing process.
And if that were the case, maybe he’d stay with Hot Barista.
“I wish it were a dream,” he said at last. “Youma. So many youma. We should’ve all died.” He expected to, and yet Cosmos’ godlike intervention prevented a solid handful of them from meeting the deaths that so many knight and senshi earned that night. The span of an hour spent down there spoke volumes of the Negaverse’s ability to collect itself, adapt, and counterattack - even when their stronghold was under great siege. The Castle was once a bastion to them, now violated, and beyond that dashing of morale they managed to overwhelm the threat of the White Moon.
Inwardly he started to reconsider Cinnabar’s offer.
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Posted: Thu Mar 31, 2016 8:25 pm
As Isaiah went on about the painkillers they were giving him, which took a second for Gwen to catch onto, she slowly began to realize what it was they were probably putting into him. It was then that she seriously grew worried as he talked about how much he had missed the sensation and yearned for it. “Jesus, Isaiah! You worked so hard to get over your addiction. This...this isn’t a good thing.”
She reached forward with her free hand, the other refusing to let go of his hand, and pushed away some stray hair that was threatening to fall into his eyes. Her hand ran down the side of his face to rest on his cheek closest to the mattress as he studied her. “You’re going to have one hell of a fight once you get out of here.” She murmured quietly. “And if you think I’d really make you take care of yourself while you’re down and out you’re more drugged up than you think.” She sighed and idly ran a thumb along his cheekbone before pulling her hand away.
And then she froze. “Youma?” She questioned softly before grabbing the bottom of the chair with a hooked foot and practically ramming her knees up against and under the bed in an attempt to get closer. “Who should have all died?”
How does he know that they’re called youma? I definitely remember him calling them monsters before… Gwen hadn’t powered up the past day or two so if there had been a large collection of youma she wouldn’t have known, but surely there would have been something on the news if it was bad enough? Stuff like that tended to atleast get mentioned in passing.
The touch against his face was welcome, and Isaiah shifted, barely perceptible. He tried to close his eyes again, though one eye was pinned half-open by the pillow. “I know what’s waiting for me. The leg cramps, the constipation, the cold sweats… Hard to believe that a hospital visit would take me back to day one. Want to get a job as my drug mule?” He smiled softly.
“The hardest part, the one I hope you never come to know, is how painful it gets. Knowing that I can never achieve this high a point in happiness again… Giving it up is like willingly kneecapping yourself. And sure, it’s easy enough to say to yourself, ‘but what about all the lows, but what about all the times you almost died’ but those don’t really compare against what you’re losing.” He paused, then his smile grew knowing, as a more sinister realization beheld him. “Like knowingly walking away from someone you love, even if you know that feeling isn’t reciprocated. Maybe you could say heroin is my Matthew.
“But I’m talking too much. Always do on this stuff.” Idly he toyed with the intravenous tube, which caused the needle to shift within the vein. The movement was noticeable at his angle.
He stopped talking for a time, even as Gwen edged closer. I don’t know why I was so protective of it all before. Seems silly to hide it from her now. Dancing around the war that we’re stuck in, acting like I know nothing about it… It seems a little trite.
“It’s a very long story, and I’m tired. I didn’t miss cottonmouth.” Again he reached for the water bottle, and took a sip. Again he was reminded that nothing ever satiated the feeling of a swollen, dry tongue. “Do you really care to hear it?”
The account of what was ahead of him just from what was suppose to be a helpful, pain killing drug was heartbreaking to Gwen. “I think I’ll pass, thanks.” She returned his smile with one of her own. The poor man not only have physical wounds to deal with he would also be struggling with withdrawal symptoms and all because the hospital went head first with drugging him up. He must have been in excruciating pain when he came in. Which meant that whatever was done to him, which she couldn’t tell amongst the layers of blankets draped on top of him, had to have been quite severe. The poor guy can’t seem to catch a break.
And then he came up with the best analogy. The one thing that would really drive home the amount of torment that he was going to experience through this and Gwen just wanted to crawl into the bed with him and hold him close. That feeling...that was a horrible, horrible feeling and she wanted no one to have to deal with it, most of all someone she had such strong feelings for. “I am so, so sorry.” She said softly.
The conversation at hand eventually shifted after a lull. Gwen wasn’t opposed to it. Her attention had been drawn to the fact that he knew about Youma and obviously had been in trouble with other people. But who? What had actually happened? “If you’re too tired to tell it then I can wait until later if you’d rather sleep, but if you’re up for storytelling I am willing to hear it.” By this point Gwen had stopped the constant motion of her thumb on Isaiah’s hand, but still didn’t shy away from the contact. If anything she gripped his hand a bit more as she waited to hear what he had to say. If nothing else I’ll know what happened to him. Assuming it’s not something completely ridiculous and possibly drug induced. She had to admit though, he seemed to have himself straight besides the drawn look and obvious exhaustion.
He remained quiet for a time, blinking blearily, before he finally responded. “I told you Sid broke up with me because I stopped using, right? Sometimes I get lonely enough to think about getting back into it, and seeing if she’ll take me back. Guess the hospital took care of that first part for me. How ironic…” He did not outwardly look perturbed, nor did his tone suggest lament. He spoke of it as if comparing different houseplants for the kitchen table, and discussing their merits with an interested party.
His next response was, perhaps, dampened by the drawl of morphine. “But, I think I’d rather ask you out instead. The hospital is an awful place for that, isn’t it? I would take you out to the balcony, at least - they have one that overlooks the courtyard excellently - but I’m not supposed to walk. Something about the tissue sloughing off the bone of my ankle or something…” Isaiah snorted, as if he found it to be nothing more than a paltry excuse. “I told them I could probably walk on it and not feel a thing, but the nurses looked skeptical. They said I’d have to call for a wheelchair. I thought that would’ve been worse than asking you while I was in bed.”
That, and even with the strange new side-gowns, he often wound up flashing someone in the end. Sometimes it wasn’t an accident.
“But if you’re really interested in that story, then I guess I can tell you.” Drawing a breath, Isaiah struggled to sit up comfortable. He settled for propping himself on his elbows, where the bone dug deep indentations into the mattress. He felt the distinct ache of his back through morphine’s web, which kept him slightly more lucid. Tempted as he was to press the button for an extra dose, he urged himself not to. “You’re going to think I completely lost my ******** head, but I promise you, I’ve been around this stuff long enough to not go tits up with it.” He swallowed thickly.
“The monsters around town are called youma, and they’re part of this great big war that no one seems to know anything about. I got myself involved in it, and one side decided to siege the other side’s stronghold and everything went to s**t for both of them. It was a massive den of monsters, and there was a dragon, and a scorpion, and so many kinds of less-than-stellar experiences all around. Lots of people died for… Pretty much nothing.
“Realities of war, I guess. As if we haven’t learned anything from Full Metal Jacket.”
The mention of Sid cause Gwen’s heart to plummet slightly. She knew that getting over an ex was never easy and being able to run into your ex and not have hard feelings towards them? Well, it really wasn’t surprising to Gwen that Isaiah would think about his ex fiance. Still, the knowledge didn’t help ease the pang. Even if whatever he was saying was induced by the morphine high he was riding.
But then, he dropped a bomb on her. She had not ever expected he’d be the one asking her out. In fact, Gwen had assumed she’d have to find the courage to ask him. Of all places for it to happen though...the hospital. Wait. What if this is also just something brought on by the morphine? Oh God, I hope not. The next question was...should she say yes? Should she brush it off, what should she do? Stop thinking so much
With a somewhat tearful laugh, Gwen half stood up and dared a featherlight kiss on Isaiah’s lips in response to his question. “As long as you’re serious and this isn’t something you’ll regret after you’re no longer on a high, then absolutely, yes.” Another short laugh escaped her and she shook her head. “I can’t say I ever imagined to be asked out again by a guy in a hospital bed, but you’re right. This was much better than having a nurse hovering around.”
Gwen squeeze Isaiah’s hand just before he worked to shift himself in the bed. She wanted to help but feared intervening might cause more problems than it was worth. Besides, it didn’t take him long to fall into what must have been a comfortable position. “I don’t know. I’ve seen some rather strange things recently.” She murmured quietly under her breath. If Isaiah had been focusing on her he may have heard what she mumbled.
With his short story told Gwen just sat in her chair staring at him. She swallowed hard, biting her lip wondering how to broach this topic. She was in a terribly scary position now. Isaiah was obviously part of the same war she was, but his vagueness did not hint at which side of the war he was on. “So, this war you’re involved with, what side would you say you’re on?”
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Posted: Thu Mar 31, 2016 8:25 pm
”I like to think I have better control of myself than that,” Isaiah quipped back after he returned what he could of the kiss. It was bound to happen eventually, he reminded himself. Why do these things always happen backward for me? Isn’t the sex supposed to come last?
… Actually, I like it better this way.
“I tend to ask at either the most appropriate or the most horribly inappropriate times. It’s part of my charm.” Closing his eyes, he leaned his head backward until it popped lightly. He groaned softly afterward. “It’s better than from the other stall of a public bathroom. Well, it was a little more complicated than that, and there were glory holes involved - err, one glory hole, not two; I can’t think of a single bathroom with two in one stall - but that’s... “ Isaiah waved the notion away lazily, frowning slightly at the bizarre sensation of the needle moving beneath the skin.
Her pointed question concerning the war should’ve left him on edge. He knew it, and he knew that responding to it flippantly did not dismiss the dangers involved in the information he revealed, but he found no whit of care within himself. He simply smiled at her coyly, tired eyes falling to a half-lidded smugness. “What a loaded question! Let a man have his secrets.” Slowly he made an attempt at sitting up fully, though his head swam abruptly and he needed to brace himself against the wall. He found that it helped little; the wall itself shifted and whirled behind him. Perhaps it wasn’t a day for upright conversation.
“To be honest, I don’t take a side. It’s not…” He sighed. “What comes of it isn’t important to me. All the ends are basically the same. So, I just do what I want. I visit other planets, have chats, make obnoxious sexual comments to people who get really uncomfortable about it. And then, obviously, get attacked. That’s it.” He paused afterward as the room continued to swim, and familiar nausea started to overpower the antiemetic. Carefully he slid his way back down, careful to turn on his stomach and avoid pressuring the burns. He could not raise his arms due to the partial grafts, however, and kept the IV arm pinned beneath himself so the tube didn’t reach underneath him.That coy smile of his made her smile despite his obvious attempt at trying to elude the question she had asked. Damn it, she just wanted to know. Isaiah wasn’t aware of the fact, but they were both involved in the horrid war and Gwen felt a strong desire to know which side he was fighting for. It, in truth, wouldn’t much matter to her specifically. As a whole she was not necessarily loyal to one side or the other at this particular point, but she certainly wasn’t all that thrilled with the negaverse with how many times they had provoked fights with her.
Gwen’s mulling was cut short as Isaiah braced himself against the wall. It was obvious that he was having issues and she stood up to try and help if he needed her but whatever he was attempting to do he abandoned. As he settled back into the bed it was like he didn’t miss a beat and he continued the conversation and once again, in a around-the-bush way, he managed to avoid actually answering her question. Damn it, this isn’t going to work. He’s probably worried about the same thing I am.
Slowly, as if realizing his body could no longer take the position he had so painstakingly gotten himself in, Gwen watched Isaiah drop back down to a horizontal plane. Her heart ached for the man and she shook her head to herself. I am not going to interrogate him over this now.
Not caring if she may get scolded by a nurse or doctor, Gwen wanted nothing more than to hold Isaiah. She wanted to comfort him terribly. So, standing there she assessed the best way to enter the bed before walking to the foot of it, mentally thanking the fact the footboard was practically flush with the mattress, Gwen kicked off the sneakers she had on and carefully crawled up the bed. She took care to avoid anything that she shouldn’t touch as she laid on her side facing him. Since she wasn’t aware of where all of his injuries were she settled with laying beside him, her arm draped on his back by his shoulder blades while her hand idly played with his hair. “I am so sorry you’re going through all of this.” She murmured quietly.Gwen’s movements provoked no response in Isaiah. He lay still while she climbed atop the gurney-bed, shifting it slightly where it stood, and joined him in the cramped space. Truly the mattress reserved room for only one, but with the pair lying on their sides, each found enough space to remain comfortably supported by the bed. Luckily Isaiah wasn’t pressed against the railings as his now-girlfriend got comfortable. Stretching slightly, Isaiah allowed his arms to sprawl out before him and hang over the railing while Gwen rolled an arm over some of his burned areas. Truthfully isaiah felt very little pain in that location, as the burn rooted its way down into full-thickness.
She spoke, and Isaiah responded blearily. “Two in harmony surpasses one in perfection.” There he lay for some seconds after, enjoying the gentle scent of freshly-laundered pillow and the lilting mix of Gwen’s floral perfume. After pausing for a restful sigh, he realized he should expound upon the proverb. “It’s a… Buddhist thing, I think. One of my old sponsors taught it to me. When facing adversity, you learn that relying on and trusting others is more worthwhile than even the best approaches taken alone. It’s… really true.” He finished with a slight smile.
“I guess this means I’ll hunt down some meetings again. Or find the best places to buy.” While his lattermost statement was intended as a joke, his increasing exhaustion prompted him to doze toward the end. Deadpan sarcasm proved too high a cost for the exhausted shopkeeper, and the statement found far more serious tones by sheer coincidence.
Half a minute later, the oxygen alarm sounded in loud beeps, waking him instantly. “That’s going to get so ******** old,” he muttered bitterly into the pillow. Turning his head, isaiah peered one glazed eye back at her. “You should definitely wear this oxygen thing on your finger so I could get a little sleep.” He winked, then, without realizing that Gwen only saw the one eye.
“So tired,” he muttered before nodding off again.
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