Chane Laforet (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fidele) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sirenspull_logs2012-08-01 05:26 pm
fidele) wrote in sirenspull_logs2012-08-01 05:26 pm
Entry tags:
open
Who: Chane Laforet fidele, and open to anybody involved with her/in the Newcomer Hunt being treated in the hospital!
When: Afternoon of Tuesday 31st through to Thursday 2nd. Tag in with day/time in the subject line.
Where: Skye Medical Centre in Sector 4.
Summary: A little reconnaissance with the people she wanted to help, and helped her.
Warnings: Discussion of the Newcomer Hunt?
Even if every part of her aches down to the bone as she rests, she doesn't want for much more. The surroundings are different to when she was first dragged into this place the day before, but then, all of Chane's recollections are snippets lost in short bouts of painful movement and exhaustion. She doesn't remember the window at her bedside.
Somebody must have wanted to free up a bed and moved her, even lending pillows for her to sit propped up on. Or, more likely, a certain someone moved her to where the light could fall across the sheets. Not that she's complaining. It's good to see the city again and hear the traffic and everyday bustle on the streets below.
Nothing can erase the memories of those past few days, however. She remembers the other newcomers imprisoned on the hunting-grounds-- the ones who gave her their name, especially. They wanted to matter to her, regardless of whether she could provide them protection, and despite her self-preservation, her refusal to cooperate, her panic and nerves... their lives matter. The uncertainy of each one's survival lingers like a fluctuating undercurrent of the intruding sensation of the IV drip, the pain that's slowly leaving her system. Knowing that those others are safe-- Kaiji, Yosuke, Bolin, Conner-- would ease her. But seeing them, she awaits with trepidation and a strange, light emotion she doesn't quite recognise as simple second-hand relief. Her NV is bent and damaged, and using her telepathy only brings back echoing memories of pain; all she has to communicate with is her notepad and pen against any visitors' voices breaking through the silence that's fallen on her corner of the wing.
fidele, and open to anybody involved with her/in the Newcomer Hunt being treated in the hospital!When: Afternoon of Tuesday 31st through to Thursday 2nd. Tag in with day/time in the subject line.
Where: Skye Medical Centre in Sector 4.
Summary: A little reconnaissance with the people she wanted to help, and helped her.
Warnings: Discussion of the Newcomer Hunt?
Even if every part of her aches down to the bone as she rests, she doesn't want for much more. The surroundings are different to when she was first dragged into this place the day before, but then, all of Chane's recollections are snippets lost in short bouts of painful movement and exhaustion. She doesn't remember the window at her bedside.
Somebody must have wanted to free up a bed and moved her, even lending pillows for her to sit propped up on. Or, more likely, a certain someone moved her to where the light could fall across the sheets. Not that she's complaining. It's good to see the city again and hear the traffic and everyday bustle on the streets below.
Nothing can erase the memories of those past few days, however. She remembers the other newcomers imprisoned on the hunting-grounds-- the ones who gave her their name, especially. They wanted to matter to her, regardless of whether she could provide them protection, and despite her self-preservation, her refusal to cooperate, her panic and nerves... their lives matter. The uncertainy of each one's survival lingers like a fluctuating undercurrent of the intruding sensation of the IV drip, the pain that's slowly leaving her system. Knowing that those others are safe-- Kaiji, Yosuke, Bolin, Conner-- would ease her. But seeing them, she awaits with trepidation and a strange, light emotion she doesn't quite recognise as simple second-hand relief. Her NV is bent and damaged, and using her telepathy only brings back echoing memories of pain; all she has to communicate with is her notepad and pen against any visitors' voices breaking through the silence that's fallen on her corner of the wing.
c: Wednesday early morning/afternoon?
Ino walked in after being guided in by a nurse, a kind smile on her face. She wasn't in her usual outfit - she was still trying to clean out some of the blood stains from her impromptu patients when they had all mobbed the grounds - instead in a simple pair of white capris and tank top.
"Hello, Ms. Laforet." She placed the vase on the table next to the hospital bed. "I'm Ino Yamanaka. You don't know me, but I wanted to give you some flowers after your...ordeal, courtesy of the Yamanaka Flower Shop."
sorry for lateness ;;
Lost in these thoughts, the tap of the vase being set on the table brought her to full attention with a jolt, eyes wide to the young woman now at her bedside, expression unassuming. For a moment she could only blink at the gesture, one of kindness, the introduction-- so she was bringing something for Chane herself...? Not passing something on impersonally like a note, as she might have imagined. Another gift from a stranger... She didn't give herself time to dwell on it much further, not when Ino had come all this way for somebody she surely had only known by name. Eyes flitting from the elegant flower arrangement to rest on her guest, Chane hesitated a moment before finding a blank page of her notebook to write on, and pass the pad across.
You can call me Chane.
A trivial request, perhaps, but it didn't feel quite right being called 'Ms.' by somebody who didn't look much younger than her, after all. A second later, her gaze wandered to the seat at the bedside, unsure of how forward she should be in offering it, whether Ino had time to spare.
its ok!
"How are you feeling?" A generic question Chane was probably asked numerous times, of course.
no subject
Fine. Thank you.
But she had to wonder about the connection... Hastily, she wrote up a second note, tore it out and offered it as well.
How did you find me?
no subject