Thursday, December 17, 2015
Sunday, December 13, 2015
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
Sunday, November 1, 2015
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Sunday, October 25, 2015
Saturday, October 24, 2015
Friday, October 23, 2015
Thursday, October 22, 2015
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
Monday, October 19, 2015
Sunday, October 18, 2015
Saturday, October 17, 2015
Friday, October 16, 2015
Thursday, October 15, 2015
Monday, August 31, 2015
Playing Favorites
Severus: What about these, Begonia? Could these be the ingredient I need?
Alan: ...Are you talking to your amphibian again?
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
Monday, August 24, 2015
Monday, August 17, 2015
Saturday, August 15, 2015
Monday, May 25, 2015
Severus
If you've already seen some of these pictures elsewhere, I apologize.
I'm just delighted with him to no end.
He's on the DF-H body with the Angell Studio 70+ cm hands, which means Alan is living in Headquarters for the time being. Other credits: The jeans are Angell Studio (and very nice--they're lined. The closures are somewhat lacking, though), the boots are I can't remember, not Leeke or DollHeart though. The wig is DollHeart and it is PERFECTION (the fuzzy lining velcros to the wig stop, so it does not move *at all*), the eyes are black 14mm glass that came from CrobiDoll, the shirt is by me, and his face-up is by me.
~~~~~~~~~~
I've not been so overwhelmingly happy with a doll in a very long time. I was genuinely concerned about bonding issues or indifference stemming from the MoC/IS debacle. But no, he's perfect and everything that was on hand for him has been exactly what I hoped would work. He's cross-looking and mopey and sad and thoughtful and awkward and almost homely, and I love him.
He's on the DF-H body with the Angell Studio 70+ cm hands, which means Alan is living in Headquarters for the time being. Other credits: The jeans are Angell Studio (and very nice--they're lined. The closures are somewhat lacking, though), the boots are I can't remember, not Leeke or DollHeart though. The wig is DollHeart and it is PERFECTION (the fuzzy lining velcros to the wig stop, so it does not move *at all*), the eyes are black 14mm glass that came from CrobiDoll, the shirt is by me, and his face-up is by me.
~~~~~~~~~~
I've not been so overwhelmingly happy with a doll in a very long time. I was genuinely concerned about bonding issues or indifference stemming from the MoC/IS debacle. But no, he's perfect and everything that was on hand for him has been exactly what I hoped would work. He's cross-looking and mopey and sad and thoughtful and awkward and almost homely, and I love him.
Saturday, March 28, 2015
Rei
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Monday, February 23, 2015
On Being a New Wizard in Arcadia--II
Part I
Visitors had been discouraged while Christian was recovering, and it was beginning to grind on his nerves to be alone day after day. He was glad to be unhooked from the IV and the catheter, and very glad to be allowed to be up and moving, though it exhausted him in short order. To his delight, he discovered about $75 in his wallet, in its hiding place inside the lining behind his student ID, and with permission he made his way to the cafeteria the next day, under the watchful eye of one of the orderlies. His appetite seemed to please the orderly, who was named Ivor, and they sat and had a very satisfying conversation about professional football while Christian had a large plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, greens, sprouts, and a side of onion rings. Ivor congratulated him on finishing everything on his tray, but successfully talked him away from getting any desserts.
The next several days passed in much the same fashion as the previous ones, with a steady stream of doctors, therapists, psychologists, and even a campus health worker coming by to make sure that Christian was in a physically and mentally sound state. He was getting rather sick of reassuring everyone who asked that he was not actively suicidal, that he understood the importance of proper diet and rest, even in the high-pressure academic environment, that he would be sure to call campus health if he was feeling overwhelmed again, that he would talk to his professors to make a reasonable schedule to make up his work, that he would in fact schedule leisure time for his own health time and time again. Sensing his fretfulness at being stuck in the hospital, his primary doctor finally relented and decided to release him, after Christian practically swore in blood to take it easy and abstain from classes for another three or four days. He was able to call the twins and secure a ride from them, which satisfied the doctor enough to agree to discharge him the next day.
That last night in the hospital dragged by interminably. Christian ran out of things to do. He had no ability to concentrate on reading the tawdry little horror novel he had borrowed from the nurses' station, there was nothing engaging on television, he couldn't call June or Oliver because of their own illnesses, he had already showered--an unsatisfying experience with tepid water and foul-smelling antibacterial soap-- and there was nothing else to do but lay down in bed and try to sleep. This proved to be a challenge in and of itself, because every time he closed his eyes images of the nightmarish world he had been struggling through rose before his eyes unbidden. He almost wished for the company of the veiled woman, her eerie presence an odd comfort to his memory. A terrifying notion gripped him thereafter, that he perhaps should not open his eyes, for fear that she would be standing there at the foot of his bed. Dreading to move, daring not to even glimpse between his lashes, Christian tried to breathe in an even, measured fashion and prayed for sleep to come.
Sleep must have come at some point, for the creaking of the door to his room roused him. Thankfully, it was merely Jeff, coming in to give him one last once-over before the doctor on call came in to approve his discharge from the hospital. Even better, there was a movie that Christian particularly liked on the television, so his time was occupied between visits from doctors and nurses coming and going to get papers signed and giving him final instructions for his well-being. Finally though, at long last, the doctor came in and sent him on his way, though not without a few more entreaties for him to take care to rest well. They also insisted that he sit down in a wheelchair and be taken down to the main lobby in that fashion. Christian did not fight them on it. He still had a tendency to get light-headed from standing for more than a few minutes.
The twins were waiting for him, Zoe and Audrey, mirror images of one another, though Audrey wore her deep auburn hair chopped almost painfully short, while Zoe's hung in a pair of long braids down her back. Better yet, Rei and Lazzaro were with them. Zoe and Rei had been a steady item since before Christian had first met them, and he had a feeling that Lazzaro was hoping Audrey would give him a chance. Christian had to wonder if he was aware that she was not quite like Zoe, living in her own world, but then he had to wonder if that would even matter to Lazzaro.
Any and all speculation was put to the side when Audrey saw Christian and dashed across the lobby, a smile of pure joy on her face. She flung herself into his arms, hugging him as though she would never let go. As Christian hugged her back, she whispered into his shoulder: "Don't ever do that again."
"I don't plan to do so," he reassured her with a last little squeeze. Satisfied at that, Audrey let go and stood up so that her sister could also give a hug. Zoe was less kindly, and pinched his arm hard even as she kissed his cheek.
"Do you have any idea what you did to Rei, you jerk?" she said, though with an unmistakable note of gentleness behind the words. "I've been making copies of notes for you from all your classes, and most of your professors have been really helpful."
"Let me guess, not Dr. McMillan," Christian sighed. Zoe nodded, her mouth taut. "The man is completely unreasonable."
"Mom and Professor Oda had a spectacular shouting match with him in Stern Hall," Audrey said with a great deal of relish. "They told him that you had been critically ill and leniency must be given, and he told them that if they were so concerned about your well-being that they would advise you to drop his course because you've missed far too much valuable instruction time, and you could never possibly hope to make up the work."
"It's a load of crap too," interjected Zoe. "You've done nothing but take notes on the Romantic poets and he's expecting a paper on Tuesday analyzing a Romantic poem of your choice, and Sebastian and I have both told him that you could do that in your sleep."
"I'd better hit it out of the park then so he has no wiggle room to give me a crap grade on it." If Dr. McMillan was the worst of his problems, then he had no reason to worry. He was only taking that particular course because Sebastian was taking it and because he needed to fluff out his English requirement. McMillan was a pompous little man and felt himself a victim because his beloved poetry courses were consistently under-attended. Never mind that it was because his reputation as a professor had scared away all but the English majors who were required to take at least one of his classes to graduate. Somehow it was the department's fault for not pushing more students his way. Poor Sebastian had gotten the short end of the stick and had McMillan as his academic advisor, and had to tolerate inane and often contradictory demands on his time and course of study. He also had been stuck into every last one of McMillan's classes over the last six semesters. Christian felt a stab of remorse for falling ill and leaving Sebastian to his own devices.
"Quit feeling guilty about whatever it is your feeling guilty about!" Zoe told him firmly. She had inherited her mother's gift for reading people. "You didn't get sick on purpose, and no one is put out at you over it." They began moving as a group toward the doors as Lazzaro and Rei pulled up in the twins' mother's minivan. "We've been worried about you, yes, but that's no call for you to beat yourself up about it."
"Today is only Thursday," Audrey mused. "You have to stay quiet and rest for the weekend, so that's plenty of time to work on things. Rei has a special pass from Student Health to bring you your meals from the dining hall, and Scott has vowed to kill anyone on the floor who gets rowdy this weekend, or you could come stay at Mom's house if you prefer. Oh, and I have a schedule for people who feel the need to come and see you this weekend." She pulled a folded piece of stationery out of her purse. "No one except Sebastian gets to visit for longer than half-an-hour, and you have a forty-five break at least between visitors." She handed the paper to Christian, looking quite proud of herself. He couldn't see Zoe's face, but he had the distinct feeling she was rolling her eyes. She loved her sister, but he knew her tolerance for Audrey's quirks went only so far.
"Yes, Mommy," Christian said, smirking. Audrey gave him a pleased smile and scampered ahead to the van. Lazzaro watched her the entire time, and Christian was more certain than ever that he was pining for her. His need was almost palpable, and it made Christian drop his gaze to the paper Audrey had given him. It was a perfect schedule for visits, meals, study sessions, and breaks. He had zero intention of following it, but he was touched that she had felt the need to make it for him. He was also quite glad that it was Thursday. He didn't feel any particular remorse for missing classes on the last two days of the week, and the prospect of having the weekend to rest was not an unpleasant one.
Visitors had been discouraged while Christian was recovering, and it was beginning to grind on his nerves to be alone day after day. He was glad to be unhooked from the IV and the catheter, and very glad to be allowed to be up and moving, though it exhausted him in short order. To his delight, he discovered about $75 in his wallet, in its hiding place inside the lining behind his student ID, and with permission he made his way to the cafeteria the next day, under the watchful eye of one of the orderlies. His appetite seemed to please the orderly, who was named Ivor, and they sat and had a very satisfying conversation about professional football while Christian had a large plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, greens, sprouts, and a side of onion rings. Ivor congratulated him on finishing everything on his tray, but successfully talked him away from getting any desserts.
The next several days passed in much the same fashion as the previous ones, with a steady stream of doctors, therapists, psychologists, and even a campus health worker coming by to make sure that Christian was in a physically and mentally sound state. He was getting rather sick of reassuring everyone who asked that he was not actively suicidal, that he understood the importance of proper diet and rest, even in the high-pressure academic environment, that he would be sure to call campus health if he was feeling overwhelmed again, that he would talk to his professors to make a reasonable schedule to make up his work, that he would in fact schedule leisure time for his own health time and time again. Sensing his fretfulness at being stuck in the hospital, his primary doctor finally relented and decided to release him, after Christian practically swore in blood to take it easy and abstain from classes for another three or four days. He was able to call the twins and secure a ride from them, which satisfied the doctor enough to agree to discharge him the next day.
That last night in the hospital dragged by interminably. Christian ran out of things to do. He had no ability to concentrate on reading the tawdry little horror novel he had borrowed from the nurses' station, there was nothing engaging on television, he couldn't call June or Oliver because of their own illnesses, he had already showered--an unsatisfying experience with tepid water and foul-smelling antibacterial soap-- and there was nothing else to do but lay down in bed and try to sleep. This proved to be a challenge in and of itself, because every time he closed his eyes images of the nightmarish world he had been struggling through rose before his eyes unbidden. He almost wished for the company of the veiled woman, her eerie presence an odd comfort to his memory. A terrifying notion gripped him thereafter, that he perhaps should not open his eyes, for fear that she would be standing there at the foot of his bed. Dreading to move, daring not to even glimpse between his lashes, Christian tried to breathe in an even, measured fashion and prayed for sleep to come.
Sleep must have come at some point, for the creaking of the door to his room roused him. Thankfully, it was merely Jeff, coming in to give him one last once-over before the doctor on call came in to approve his discharge from the hospital. Even better, there was a movie that Christian particularly liked on the television, so his time was occupied between visits from doctors and nurses coming and going to get papers signed and giving him final instructions for his well-being. Finally though, at long last, the doctor came in and sent him on his way, though not without a few more entreaties for him to take care to rest well. They also insisted that he sit down in a wheelchair and be taken down to the main lobby in that fashion. Christian did not fight them on it. He still had a tendency to get light-headed from standing for more than a few minutes.
The twins were waiting for him, Zoe and Audrey, mirror images of one another, though Audrey wore her deep auburn hair chopped almost painfully short, while Zoe's hung in a pair of long braids down her back. Better yet, Rei and Lazzaro were with them. Zoe and Rei had been a steady item since before Christian had first met them, and he had a feeling that Lazzaro was hoping Audrey would give him a chance. Christian had to wonder if he was aware that she was not quite like Zoe, living in her own world, but then he had to wonder if that would even matter to Lazzaro.
Any and all speculation was put to the side when Audrey saw Christian and dashed across the lobby, a smile of pure joy on her face. She flung herself into his arms, hugging him as though she would never let go. As Christian hugged her back, she whispered into his shoulder: "Don't ever do that again."
"I don't plan to do so," he reassured her with a last little squeeze. Satisfied at that, Audrey let go and stood up so that her sister could also give a hug. Zoe was less kindly, and pinched his arm hard even as she kissed his cheek.
"Do you have any idea what you did to Rei, you jerk?" she said, though with an unmistakable note of gentleness behind the words. "I've been making copies of notes for you from all your classes, and most of your professors have been really helpful."
"Let me guess, not Dr. McMillan," Christian sighed. Zoe nodded, her mouth taut. "The man is completely unreasonable."
"Mom and Professor Oda had a spectacular shouting match with him in Stern Hall," Audrey said with a great deal of relish. "They told him that you had been critically ill and leniency must be given, and he told them that if they were so concerned about your well-being that they would advise you to drop his course because you've missed far too much valuable instruction time, and you could never possibly hope to make up the work."
"It's a load of crap too," interjected Zoe. "You've done nothing but take notes on the Romantic poets and he's expecting a paper on Tuesday analyzing a Romantic poem of your choice, and Sebastian and I have both told him that you could do that in your sleep."
"I'd better hit it out of the park then so he has no wiggle room to give me a crap grade on it." If Dr. McMillan was the worst of his problems, then he had no reason to worry. He was only taking that particular course because Sebastian was taking it and because he needed to fluff out his English requirement. McMillan was a pompous little man and felt himself a victim because his beloved poetry courses were consistently under-attended. Never mind that it was because his reputation as a professor had scared away all but the English majors who were required to take at least one of his classes to graduate. Somehow it was the department's fault for not pushing more students his way. Poor Sebastian had gotten the short end of the stick and had McMillan as his academic advisor, and had to tolerate inane and often contradictory demands on his time and course of study. He also had been stuck into every last one of McMillan's classes over the last six semesters. Christian felt a stab of remorse for falling ill and leaving Sebastian to his own devices.
"Quit feeling guilty about whatever it is your feeling guilty about!" Zoe told him firmly. She had inherited her mother's gift for reading people. "You didn't get sick on purpose, and no one is put out at you over it." They began moving as a group toward the doors as Lazzaro and Rei pulled up in the twins' mother's minivan. "We've been worried about you, yes, but that's no call for you to beat yourself up about it."
"Today is only Thursday," Audrey mused. "You have to stay quiet and rest for the weekend, so that's plenty of time to work on things. Rei has a special pass from Student Health to bring you your meals from the dining hall, and Scott has vowed to kill anyone on the floor who gets rowdy this weekend, or you could come stay at Mom's house if you prefer. Oh, and I have a schedule for people who feel the need to come and see you this weekend." She pulled a folded piece of stationery out of her purse. "No one except Sebastian gets to visit for longer than half-an-hour, and you have a forty-five break at least between visitors." She handed the paper to Christian, looking quite proud of herself. He couldn't see Zoe's face, but he had the distinct feeling she was rolling her eyes. She loved her sister, but he knew her tolerance for Audrey's quirks went only so far.
"Yes, Mommy," Christian said, smirking. Audrey gave him a pleased smile and scampered ahead to the van. Lazzaro watched her the entire time, and Christian was more certain than ever that he was pining for her. His need was almost palpable, and it made Christian drop his gaze to the paper Audrey had given him. It was a perfect schedule for visits, meals, study sessions, and breaks. He had zero intention of following it, but he was touched that she had felt the need to make it for him. He was also quite glad that it was Thursday. He didn't feel any particular remorse for missing classes on the last two days of the week, and the prospect of having the weekend to rest was not an unpleasant one.
Saturday, February 7, 2015
Pictures Update
The Doll Page suffered a fatal server crash and is in the process still of moving files and updating software, and they hope to have the main site up and functional by February 13. (I am in complete understanding--I have been using them for nearly 10 years, and there have been very few changes in all that time.)
I myself am slowly recovering from the rather virulent infection that nearly everyone I know has had. It lingers, but I have stopped running a fever at this point. I will hopefully have some writing up by the end of the weekend.
Thank you!
I myself am slowly recovering from the rather virulent infection that nearly everyone I know has had. It lingers, but I have stopped running a fever at this point. I will hopefully have some writing up by the end of the weekend.
Thank you!
Monday, February 2, 2015
The site that hosts my doll pictures is currently in the process of switching servers. It should take a few days, and then things will be back to normal. At that point I should have a new photostory ready.
Thank you for your patience and understanding!
ETA: I have also been ragingly sick since Friday afternoon, and have not been able to clean up and post the next section of "On Being a New Wizard in Arcadia." As soon as I can sit at the computer and focus, that will also be updated. Again, thank you for your patience!
Thank you for your patience and understanding!
ETA: I have also been ragingly sick since Friday afternoon, and have not been able to clean up and post the next section of "On Being a New Wizard in Arcadia." As soon as I can sit at the computer and focus, that will also be updated. Again, thank you for your patience!
Thursday, January 29, 2015
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
The Sweater
Christian: Are you going to be on the internet all night?
June: ... ... ... Yes.
June: What. What on earth are you wearing?
Christian:( Oh my Christmas...)
Oliver: A sweater?
June:...
June: A sweater?
Christian: Oh, no.
Oliver: A...sweater?
June: That is no sweater.
Christian: Please. We swore we'd move past this. It's been years.
Oliver: ????
Oliver: Why do I get this feeling I might have just opened Pandora's box?
Christian: It's a fair comparison, actually.
June: Yes, how apt. Given that the last place I saw it was a box, how very apt.
Christian: Oliver, you've no idea what you have unleashed upon the world.
Oliver: A sweater?!
June: Tell me. Do you remember when you were about seven and Mom went away on that trip with all her college friends?
Oliver: Well, yeah. That's when she got me Llama-ram-a-ding-dong. <3
Christian: Indeed. You got Llama-ram-a-ding-dong. I received a book of South American myths. And June...
June: That sweater. That thrice-accursed sweater. I thought I had hidden it from the light of day for all time.
Oliver: It was in a box in the closet under the stairs. The Rules say--
Christian: "Anything under the stairs is fair game." I knew that would come back to bite us eventually.
June: You must get rid of that sweater. For the good of humanity.
Oliver: But it was under the stairs! It's fair game!
Christian: June, please. He's just a kid. He doesn't know any better.
June: Fine. Keep that eyesore. But heed my words--someday, soon perhaps, you will receive your first "Mom Gift." A desk set, a travel iron, a very unflattering article of regifted clothing...it matters not. And I will not help you.
Oliver: *meep*
Christian: You've done this to yourself, Oliver. May the Heavens pity your soul...
June: For we do not.
DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM.....
Oliver: This sweater is awesome.
Oliver--Volks SD10 Mark
Christian--Volks SD13 Link
June--Luts El on Fairyland Feeple65 body
June belongs to my brother Wotan. She's staying on an extended visit with her brothers.
Apologies for my elderly camera...
Thank you for reading!
Sunday, January 25, 2015
On Being a New Wizard in Arcadia--I
You have done well, way-walker. Stay or move on, the choice is in your hands now.
Christian stared up at the wounded sky, the preternaturally tall woman (for despite the black veil that completely obscured her form, her demeanor and tone were so classically female that there could be no doubt in his mind) just at the edge of his vision. He wanted to turn his head and look at her, but he had nothing left in him to give impetus. So instead he stared at the sky, watching the red deepen to browns and slowly to black.
It's getting dark, he said, or thought he said. The dimming figure in black shook her head so slowly and almost imperceptibly that one might have mistaken it for a shiver or a trick of the wind.
No, way-walker. It is you who is fading, not the light. Travel well, and mayhap we will meet again on some other plane. She sounded so sad. As if sensing his thoughts, she responded. It does grieve me. You have come further than any other creature from your world of light and water has in a very long time, even by the measure of those who live outside time. But you have made your choice to move on, and I cannot keep you here.
Dying. That was what she meant. Ah, he understood that now. He thought he might feel more sorrow over it, but he couldn't honestly muster the strength. He'd miss June and Oliver, and Rei, and Sebastian of course, but that wasn't enough to make him keep fighting to pull air into his lungs or to watch the spinning sky darken into blackness. He let his eyes slip closed at last. As she had said, he had come far and done well. He had earned a rest.
Except now something raw and burning filled his chest painfully, threatening to choke him. He couldn't decipher it, make it behave like it ought, even as it filled his lungs afresh. I'm drowning, he thought, baffled. Again, his lungs filled with that raw burn, and he was beginning to be aware of chaos around him.
"Goddamn you, breathe!" a familiar voice grated by his ear, terror and grief making it harsh. Again, that horrible pain, and this time Christian choked on it. He coughed violently, gagging, drowning on air before his autonomic systems kicked back into full function, and he took a gulp of air. He was becoming more aware of the chaos of sounds around him, sobbing, panicked voices, the hurry of running steps. He took another breath, the freezing air burning in his nose and lungs but no longer drowning him. As awareness continued to grow, he felt a hand resting lightly on his chest, and someone holding his hand. Reluctantly, Christian opened his eyes.
The sky was no longer bloodied and bruised, but the cold flat white of winter. Crouched beside him, soft grey eyes bright with tears, was Rei. Lovely, impossible, infuriating, loyal Rei, silky black hair framing his pale face. He smacked his hand gently against Christian’s chest, volumes of concern and affection expressed in that simple gesture. Christian mustered as much strength as he could and squeezed Rei's gloved hand. Someone else moved into his peripheral vision, and crouched beside him. Struggling still, Christian turned his head to stare up at Lazzaro.
"You idiot," Lazzaro mumbled, caught between anger and relief. "You dumb little bastard." He grasped Christian's shoulder and tightened his fingers. "The ambulance is coming, hang tight. What on earth have you been doing; do you have any idea how scared we've been?"
"Back off," Rei muttered. "He has been through a dark place, he does not need you lecture him." Christian smiled at Rei's sloppy English. Why did he think he could have willing left that behind? How could he have tried leaving the perfect little corkscrew curl of hair that refused to obey Lazzaro's liberal application of styling products? Each flake of snow that stood out against their dark hair and coats like a tiny perfect star broke his heart. So much beauty, and he had been willing to turn away from it all.
"I'm sorry," he croaked, his throat still aching miserably. "My God, I am so sorry." Lazzaro and Rei both looked taken aback, Lazzaro reddening slightly. "I am so sorry."
"Don't...." Lazzaro began, trailing off as his voice shook. Christian didn't hear the rest of it as paramedics finally arrived, shooing people back to give them room to work. Exhausted, Christian let himself drift back down into semi-consciousness, letting the sounds and sensations wash over him in waves. He was vaguely aware of his responses to the paramedics, vaguely aware of being moved, vaguely aware of it all. As he was rolled away to the waiting ambulance, he turned his head to look back at his friends. Lazzaro leaned against Rei, overcome with emotion. Behind them, like a rip in the shining white world, was a tall veiled figure of black.
When next Christian was fully aware of his surroundings, he had a hard time determining exactly what time it was. The cold, trembling fluorescent lights gave no sense of time of day, and his hospital bed had no clear view of the window. His arm was itching quite a bit, and further investigation revealed it to be a slight irritation around the adhesive holding his IV line in place. He wondered briefly where his glasses were before realizing that he wasn't even sure if he had been wearing them when Rei had found him. He laid back against the pillows and closed his eyes. He felt weak, certainly, and hungry, which was an improvement, but aside from some aches and pains and that itch on his arm, he didn't feel terrible. Hunger, in fact, seemed to be the most pressing concern. He wondered if the nurse on call would be offended if he buzzed for her. He wondered if that was how it actually worked. He'd never been in the hospital before.
The entire matter was solved by the door opening. Christian opened his eyes and saw a rather anxious-looking young man in scrubs coming into the room, clipboard in hand. The young man looked genuinely surprised to see Christian awake and watching him.
"I'm Jeff, and I'm just going to be checking your vital signs," the nurse said, smiling tentatively. "How are you feeling?"
"Hungry," Christian replied. "Sore? What time is it?"
"It's about 6:30 in the morning. Oh, and it's been two days since you were admitted. You've been in and out of it, but mostly out." Jeff gave another nervous smile. "Breakfast will be by in about fifteen minutes." He scribbled on his clipboard, then encouraged Christian to sit upright so that he could better listen to his chest and back. "We may be able to take that IV and the catheter out today too. That's going to be up to the doctor, and he won't be around for another hour. " He gave Christian a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Just take it easy, boss. You're in good hands here."
Throughout the course of the morning it became increasingly apparent to Christian that he must have said or done something during his two lost days that had rattled the nursing staff and doctors. Everyone was extremely polite, and very kindly, but they all had the same anxious, wary demeanor that Jeff had exhibited. It did not ease Christian's discontentment, but there was very little that could be done for that.
He had begun to realize that he had been very close to death, and he honestly could not fathom how he had gotten to that brink in the first place or how he had managed to not go over the edge. As he sat in his bed and stared at the beach painting across the room, he tried ticking off the sequence of events in his mind. It kept getting hazy at about his fourth day without sleep, but he was pretty certain, even as reality had become steadily more unraveled and tangled, that he had gone for a week without sleep, and several days without food. It seemed highly improbable, especially given how quickly he seemed to be snapping back from it. Even the doctor that morning had made an off-hand comment about the speed of his recovery. What had happened to him?
More worrisome, he had called his parents that morning, since he would have thought they would have put aside their disappointment in him to be by his side. Apparently June and Oliver had also been struck down with what they presumed to be a particularly virulent flu strain. Oliver was too ill to travel, and June was secure in her dormitory and being cared for by Jessica and Student Health. Mom had assured Christian that as soon as she was confident in Oliver's health, she would be flying to Cleveland to check on both her older children. Christian had made a half-hearted attempt to sound comforted by that news, and expressed his concern for his younger siblings, then excused himself from further conversation by claiming fatigue. It had not been a stretch of the truth either. The news about June and Oliver had drained his spirits badly. What the hell was happening?
Christian stared up at the wounded sky, the preternaturally tall woman (for despite the black veil that completely obscured her form, her demeanor and tone were so classically female that there could be no doubt in his mind) just at the edge of his vision. He wanted to turn his head and look at her, but he had nothing left in him to give impetus. So instead he stared at the sky, watching the red deepen to browns and slowly to black.
It's getting dark, he said, or thought he said. The dimming figure in black shook her head so slowly and almost imperceptibly that one might have mistaken it for a shiver or a trick of the wind.
No, way-walker. It is you who is fading, not the light. Travel well, and mayhap we will meet again on some other plane. She sounded so sad. As if sensing his thoughts, she responded. It does grieve me. You have come further than any other creature from your world of light and water has in a very long time, even by the measure of those who live outside time. But you have made your choice to move on, and I cannot keep you here.
Dying. That was what she meant. Ah, he understood that now. He thought he might feel more sorrow over it, but he couldn't honestly muster the strength. He'd miss June and Oliver, and Rei, and Sebastian of course, but that wasn't enough to make him keep fighting to pull air into his lungs or to watch the spinning sky darken into blackness. He let his eyes slip closed at last. As she had said, he had come far and done well. He had earned a rest.
Except now something raw and burning filled his chest painfully, threatening to choke him. He couldn't decipher it, make it behave like it ought, even as it filled his lungs afresh. I'm drowning, he thought, baffled. Again, his lungs filled with that raw burn, and he was beginning to be aware of chaos around him.
"Goddamn you, breathe!" a familiar voice grated by his ear, terror and grief making it harsh. Again, that horrible pain, and this time Christian choked on it. He coughed violently, gagging, drowning on air before his autonomic systems kicked back into full function, and he took a gulp of air. He was becoming more aware of the chaos of sounds around him, sobbing, panicked voices, the hurry of running steps. He took another breath, the freezing air burning in his nose and lungs but no longer drowning him. As awareness continued to grow, he felt a hand resting lightly on his chest, and someone holding his hand. Reluctantly, Christian opened his eyes.
The sky was no longer bloodied and bruised, but the cold flat white of winter. Crouched beside him, soft grey eyes bright with tears, was Rei. Lovely, impossible, infuriating, loyal Rei, silky black hair framing his pale face. He smacked his hand gently against Christian’s chest, volumes of concern and affection expressed in that simple gesture. Christian mustered as much strength as he could and squeezed Rei's gloved hand. Someone else moved into his peripheral vision, and crouched beside him. Struggling still, Christian turned his head to stare up at Lazzaro.
"You idiot," Lazzaro mumbled, caught between anger and relief. "You dumb little bastard." He grasped Christian's shoulder and tightened his fingers. "The ambulance is coming, hang tight. What on earth have you been doing; do you have any idea how scared we've been?"
"Back off," Rei muttered. "He has been through a dark place, he does not need you lecture him." Christian smiled at Rei's sloppy English. Why did he think he could have willing left that behind? How could he have tried leaving the perfect little corkscrew curl of hair that refused to obey Lazzaro's liberal application of styling products? Each flake of snow that stood out against their dark hair and coats like a tiny perfect star broke his heart. So much beauty, and he had been willing to turn away from it all.
"I'm sorry," he croaked, his throat still aching miserably. "My God, I am so sorry." Lazzaro and Rei both looked taken aback, Lazzaro reddening slightly. "I am so sorry."
"Don't...." Lazzaro began, trailing off as his voice shook. Christian didn't hear the rest of it as paramedics finally arrived, shooing people back to give them room to work. Exhausted, Christian let himself drift back down into semi-consciousness, letting the sounds and sensations wash over him in waves. He was vaguely aware of his responses to the paramedics, vaguely aware of being moved, vaguely aware of it all. As he was rolled away to the waiting ambulance, he turned his head to look back at his friends. Lazzaro leaned against Rei, overcome with emotion. Behind them, like a rip in the shining white world, was a tall veiled figure of black.
When next Christian was fully aware of his surroundings, he had a hard time determining exactly what time it was. The cold, trembling fluorescent lights gave no sense of time of day, and his hospital bed had no clear view of the window. His arm was itching quite a bit, and further investigation revealed it to be a slight irritation around the adhesive holding his IV line in place. He wondered briefly where his glasses were before realizing that he wasn't even sure if he had been wearing them when Rei had found him. He laid back against the pillows and closed his eyes. He felt weak, certainly, and hungry, which was an improvement, but aside from some aches and pains and that itch on his arm, he didn't feel terrible. Hunger, in fact, seemed to be the most pressing concern. He wondered if the nurse on call would be offended if he buzzed for her. He wondered if that was how it actually worked. He'd never been in the hospital before.
The entire matter was solved by the door opening. Christian opened his eyes and saw a rather anxious-looking young man in scrubs coming into the room, clipboard in hand. The young man looked genuinely surprised to see Christian awake and watching him.
"I'm Jeff, and I'm just going to be checking your vital signs," the nurse said, smiling tentatively. "How are you feeling?"
"Hungry," Christian replied. "Sore? What time is it?"
"It's about 6:30 in the morning. Oh, and it's been two days since you were admitted. You've been in and out of it, but mostly out." Jeff gave another nervous smile. "Breakfast will be by in about fifteen minutes." He scribbled on his clipboard, then encouraged Christian to sit upright so that he could better listen to his chest and back. "We may be able to take that IV and the catheter out today too. That's going to be up to the doctor, and he won't be around for another hour. " He gave Christian a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Just take it easy, boss. You're in good hands here."
Throughout the course of the morning it became increasingly apparent to Christian that he must have said or done something during his two lost days that had rattled the nursing staff and doctors. Everyone was extremely polite, and very kindly, but they all had the same anxious, wary demeanor that Jeff had exhibited. It did not ease Christian's discontentment, but there was very little that could be done for that.
He had begun to realize that he had been very close to death, and he honestly could not fathom how he had gotten to that brink in the first place or how he had managed to not go over the edge. As he sat in his bed and stared at the beach painting across the room, he tried ticking off the sequence of events in his mind. It kept getting hazy at about his fourth day without sleep, but he was pretty certain, even as reality had become steadily more unraveled and tangled, that he had gone for a week without sleep, and several days without food. It seemed highly improbable, especially given how quickly he seemed to be snapping back from it. Even the doctor that morning had made an off-hand comment about the speed of his recovery. What had happened to him?
More worrisome, he had called his parents that morning, since he would have thought they would have put aside their disappointment in him to be by his side. Apparently June and Oliver had also been struck down with what they presumed to be a particularly virulent flu strain. Oliver was too ill to travel, and June was secure in her dormitory and being cared for by Jessica and Student Health. Mom had assured Christian that as soon as she was confident in Oliver's health, she would be flying to Cleveland to check on both her older children. Christian had made a half-hearted attempt to sound comforted by that news, and expressed his concern for his younger siblings, then excused himself from further conversation by claiming fatigue. It had not been a stretch of the truth either. The news about June and Oliver had drained his spirits badly. What the hell was happening?
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