The Aftermath: The wages of sin is Death. [OPEN] (Part II)

[makethemguilty]

Who: Manfred von Karma, Hospital staff, and Visitors
When: Monday, January 16th - January 22nd.
Where: SPGH, ICU.
Summary: Immediately Following the bombing of the towers Manfred von Karma is placed in intensive care, where he will be recovering throughout the week, maybe longer. [This log is an expansion of the LJ log: here.]
Warnings: PG-13-R? Mature. For those who aren't squeamish about blood, needles, hospital wings, etc. (Note: this is for those who wish to backtag on the hospital log via DW.)

The sounds of ambulance sirens sounding loudly throughout the night; High voltage shocks pumping through his lifeless body as his heart stops…An oxygen mask going over his face… All of that seems distant now. A struggle he's no longer apart of. Not quite.

There's something warm, like a wash of sunlight, and he's staring out into a field of gold, sitting in a chair overlooking the German countryside. Dandelions sway gently in the breeze. He seems confused as to how he might've gotten there, his clothes no longer torn and bloody, but replaced by his conventional aristocratic apparel.

Flashes of a woman's face and her smile; A small girl in her frilled dress playing out among the flowers, laughing. "Papa, papa! Look at me, look at me!"

Sweet eyes looking upon him, enthralling him. Deep blue, like the tides of an ocean. And then...Then nothing. A void. A vortex. What was this strange sensation? A Pulling, a division, like being suspended in space.

"Manfred…"

A voice. A woman's voice…So distantly familiar. Whose voice?

"What…Who are you?"

"Manfred, you have to go back. You can't go yet."

"It's…no use."

"There's still time. Don't worry…You still…you have to show them that you..—"

White…Flashes of white. Blinding white. His eyes fly open, lips parting to gasp for breath. He tries to sit up, a stab of pain making him fly back.

"Aagh!"

He was alone. No one…No one was here. A white room, empty save for the many machines hooked up to his body. He glances over the side of his hospital bed at the medical monitor with its number displays, watching the spikes for a moment as it gave a resounding beep, beep, beep…There were tubes sticking out of his flesh, and the constant of an IV going drip, drip, drip...

He stared at the ceiling, lifting a hand to his eyes to feel something…wet. A dream…? He quickly wiped it away. Nonsense. A dream, nothing more.

Comments

[whippings]

[The von Karma creed, of course. To be perfect in every way. She'd thought she'd receive such an answer from her father, but the expectation did not make it any less bitter. Remember it? She'd never forgotten. It was her father who had done that first, her father who had betrayed the very foundations that their ideals stood on. Now, that, too, she would not forget. Perfect in practically every way, Franziska von Karma's memory too was flawless.

For the barest of moments a small smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth as she realizes that she's using his teaching to achieve her own ends. There was perfection in that too, for a perfect way of life was adaptable to every situation that presented itself, and it was in that way it was her father, not her, who was blind. But she sterns her expression again because even that twist of the lips is emotion far too noticeable.

When had her father grown so old? Franziska had never thought him so when she had been a child; but youth commonly thought their parents close to gods, immortal. But somewhere along the way, somewhere amongst the crimes, the plans gone wrong, her father had tumbled from his own pedestal. And he thinks that he can warn me, she scoffed to herself, careful still to keep her features neutral. His main lessons were in his mistakes.

And it's with that she understands that dragging this conversation along uselessly is going to get her nowhere -- it's what's left unsaid that matters most.]

That, I can do.

[There is no waver in her voice now, because there is no deceit; just a difference in perspective. Before, she was angry with him, scared for him, scared for herself and what it might mean if she never got the chance to talk to him again.

But in this moment, however fleeting, she only pities him.]

The von Karma creed is to be perfect in every way.

[She says it clearly, for she has uttered the sentence so many times before.]

I will not forget.

[Not as you did, Papa.]

<33ILUdon'tbemadatmysuperhorriblelate

[makethemguilty]

[Would she have been perfect if she were the offspring of any other man? The doubts which arose in her mind were no less than sin to the Von Karma way. A silent challenge to the authority and respectability he had raised her with. She had had all the right nurturing to become what she was now. But what had changed in her that made her reject the ideals he'd instilled? This, he could not abide by. He is aware, of course, of her inclinations, for she was his daughter, and not someone else's.

He reads the sneer in her face impassively, shifting the bare sheet of the hospital bed while he let his weight slide forwards enough to present a fierce gaze. He was no weak old man as she may have surmised. Nor would he allow her the satisfaction. To pity him was the ultimate insult.]

Were that true you would not have displayed your emotions so impetuously.

[But she already has forgotten so much. How can he believe her words when she associated with those who would stand against him so openly?..So then, would she come here to manipulate him? Would she truly be so low to go to that end? Was she in collaboration in Edgeworth to seek him out and thereby exploit his weakness?

His brows pinch, mouth tugging into a thin line that expressed...a curious lack of tact, showing a little more strain and anger than was necessary.]

Did you think I would not notice?