[ She bites into her lip as he treats it. Does her best to keep it all in and to herself. She can do this, the way scientists and doctors had tended her once before, when they'd stuck needles into her, wires for her brain and ports for her spine and the thick wrap of gauze around her like the mother's hug she would never feel again. She does her best not to fuss and squirm like the child she feels.
It's a mistake, to sit still, because it lets her think, about everything that's just happened, and it's really all too much. She's a know it all and too smart for her own good and she knows it. Seen everything terrible thing under the sun, it doesn't make her flinch, no, but it churns, over and over inside her mind, without end, and all she's seen comes to just about -- ] If that's true then... [ -- nothing. ] ... You're going to have to forgive me.
[ To the smell she can't get rid of to all the bodies she's seen and with it she folds like paper, tipping forward over her knees at least enough to not make a mess of herself and especially not of him, and heaves up every last thing she ate. Shoulders wretching with each lurch of her body, the acidic taste in her mouth, until the last scrapes of the fried purple thing she'd had for breakfast that are now a slurry on the ground. ( the mournful little noise comes from the ever removed, always from herself, part of her: she'd liked that purple thing, and it didn't taste half as good the second time around )
The rest of her however, doesn't quite catch up, when she's finally done that in the end, she's just left sitting, waiting for something to make sense again. Like she can't believe it all just happened. It did, she reasons, but like the soldiers he would know best, shell shock is a strange thing to feel. ]
no subject
It's a mistake, to sit still, because it lets her think, about everything that's just happened, and it's really all too much. She's a know it all and too smart for her own good and she knows it. Seen everything terrible thing under the sun, it doesn't make her flinch, no, but it churns, over and over inside her mind, without end, and all she's seen comes to just about -- ] If that's true then... [ -- nothing. ] ... You're going to have to forgive me.
[ To the smell she can't get rid of to all the bodies she's seen and with it she folds like paper, tipping forward over her knees at least enough to not make a mess of herself and especially not of him, and heaves up every last thing she ate. Shoulders wretching with each lurch of her body, the acidic taste in her mouth, until the last scrapes of the fried purple thing she'd had for breakfast that are now a slurry on the ground. ( the mournful little noise comes from the ever removed, always from herself, part of her: she'd liked that purple thing, and it didn't taste half as good the second time around )
The rest of her however, doesn't quite catch up, when she's finally done that in the end, she's just left sitting, waiting for something to make sense again. Like she can't believe it all just happened. It did, she reasons, but like the soldiers he would know best, shell shock is a strange thing to feel. ]