Post by ~Draven~ on May 18, 2011 8:47:06 GMT -5
ooc: Takes place five days after this RP. Only people who have already met Draven please~
bic: The last five days had been a blur to him. Not surprising, since he'd spent that whole time teetering on the line between consciousness and stupor, body fighting off a high fever. He'd barely been aware of his visitors and completely incapable of interacting with them save for reflexive movements when they touched him. Tightening his grip when someone took his hand, turning his head to get away from a washcloth that was way too cold, swallowing when something was poured into his mouth, basic things that let onlookers know he was still alive. Whether he'd ever be his old self again was a point of contention though.
It was a point of contention that would be put to rest today. As light from the rising sun flooded the room, Draven stirred in his bed. A slight shrug of the right shoulder, a tightening of closed eyelids, a frustrated snort as light hit his face. He turned his head away from the offending ray and opened an eye, squinting as light reflected into it. "Ngh..." Why was the sun always so damn bright every time he regained consciousness? Groaning, he lifted his right hand and put it over his face.
How long had he been out? He frankly had no bloody idea. The way he was feeling, he assumed not very long. His left side was still sore as hell, to the point that he didn't even want to move his arm, and breathing sure didn't seem much easier. He wasn't yet aware that it was due to a case of pneumonia rather than broken ribs. Well, it was kind of still due to the broken ribs. He hadn't been able to clear his lungs properly because of it, which had led to a build-up of bacteria and the development of his current illness. Lovely stuff.
But as said before, he had no idea that he wasn't merely injured but also sick on top of it, or that moving around would agitate the problem. Thus, he sat up and was promptly reprimanded by a fit of coughing that made his side ache even more. Once he'd finished with that, he stayed upright, albeit curled forwards, trying to catch his breath. Then he groaned and fell back on his pillow.
He wanted to go back to sleep, but with his luck he'd probably be getting visitors soon. Everyone was obsessed with injured and sick people.
bic: The last five days had been a blur to him. Not surprising, since he'd spent that whole time teetering on the line between consciousness and stupor, body fighting off a high fever. He'd barely been aware of his visitors and completely incapable of interacting with them save for reflexive movements when they touched him. Tightening his grip when someone took his hand, turning his head to get away from a washcloth that was way too cold, swallowing when something was poured into his mouth, basic things that let onlookers know he was still alive. Whether he'd ever be his old self again was a point of contention though.
It was a point of contention that would be put to rest today. As light from the rising sun flooded the room, Draven stirred in his bed. A slight shrug of the right shoulder, a tightening of closed eyelids, a frustrated snort as light hit his face. He turned his head away from the offending ray and opened an eye, squinting as light reflected into it. "Ngh..." Why was the sun always so damn bright every time he regained consciousness? Groaning, he lifted his right hand and put it over his face.
How long had he been out? He frankly had no bloody idea. The way he was feeling, he assumed not very long. His left side was still sore as hell, to the point that he didn't even want to move his arm, and breathing sure didn't seem much easier. He wasn't yet aware that it was due to a case of pneumonia rather than broken ribs. Well, it was kind of still due to the broken ribs. He hadn't been able to clear his lungs properly because of it, which had led to a build-up of bacteria and the development of his current illness. Lovely stuff.
But as said before, he had no idea that he wasn't merely injured but also sick on top of it, or that moving around would agitate the problem. Thus, he sat up and was promptly reprimanded by a fit of coughing that made his side ache even more. Once he'd finished with that, he stayed upright, albeit curled forwards, trying to catch his breath. Then he groaned and fell back on his pillow.
He wanted to go back to sleep, but with his luck he'd probably be getting visitors soon. Everyone was obsessed with injured and sick people.