entrancelogs | I'm only joking

Who: Cloud and YOU
Where: Outside the mansion, in the gardens.
When: 11/15
Rating: PG-13 for language and allusions to body horror, body rot, nasty things
Summary: Cloud had a teeny tiny episode in the garden and has been in a coma for four days.
The Story: Time is a funny thing. A concept that loses meaning in the face of grander events, when the whole wide world comes crashing down and you have a small timeframe to save it. Or maybe it's an estimate of how much longer you'll even be on the world at all. Five years feels like ten minutes. Another year feels like five.

He doesn't know how long it is before he can see again, face buried within the weird, unnatural flowers that fix themselves, that move away from him as he shuffles. Flowers were alive, but not that much. A weird world. Weird rules. Some of them coated with a horrible-smelling black stench--

Ah.

His head's pounding. It must've happened again. The smell's coming from him. Smeared on his face and his arm is drenched in it, though most of it has long-since dried up. The arm's still shaking, though, his other hand laid over it in a vain attempt to put pressure on the pain.

What a fucking mess.

It doesn't sound like anyone's around, though. And the light's stabbing through his vision, making the headache worse. So he closes his eyes again, laying it back down, trying to control his breathing. He'll... get up in a few minutes, wash himself off before anyone sees. Too much effort at the moment.

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She rushes to his side, her hands hovering over him as she tries to think about what to do here.

"Do you need any help? What should I do?"

Edited 2016-11-24 03:55 (UTC)

Of all people he wanted - or lack thereof - to have to walk in on this mess, it had to be her. Not every world is as gritty and terrible as theirs, and he isn't sure he has the mental capacity to be able to explain the situation well enough.

So just. Bullshit for the time being.

"Just felt a lil' sick. Don' worry."

He doesn't even open his eyes as he speaks.

"Do you think you can sit up?" Though it sounds hesitant, primarily because she isn't sure if that would just make things worse or not. "I could get you some water...?"

This is hard. But she wants to try.

Sound is still a little fuzzy, and his primary instinct is to just get this person away from the mess that's probably all over the brush, but he still shifts his head towards her, struggling to pull his eyes open against the blinding sunlight.

Water. It... it might be okay. If she doesn't touch him. Maybe just dump him in the fountain again or something. Heh.

That's a little morbid.

"Water-- yeah. Yeah. Okay."

There's a rustling noise as she gets up, and then a rush of hurried footsteps that get quieter as she gets further and further away.

And while it's all quiet for a bit, those same footsteps can be heard rushing back... and there's a sound of a water bottle being uncapped and a cap being tossed to the side.

"Hey, I'm back."

Heh. Maybe she finally gave up and went back inside. That's probably better, anyway. She shouldn't be near him right now. Too much of a risk of being infected and dying over and over, which will suck. Not that he's ever died before. Close to it, but not quite.

Still has to suck.

And for awhile, he's wondering if he can get away with crawling into the nearest ravine or something just to wash off. But... that might infect the rest of the world-town-whatever this is. Probably not a smart idea.

But then he hears footsteps rushing back to him and his head falls in the grass again with a sigh.

"Still here." Unfortunately.

I'm only joking

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Sorry for taking so long to get back to you! I AM HERE NOW.

replies a month later with starbucks