She awoke, eyes fluttering open. The room was dark, Miles and Sid long gone. Eyes roaming the room, moonlight accenting the mess that was her room. Bruised stomach gurgled, a hand resting just above her belly button. It only took a few seconds for her to stand and hurry as best as her broken body could, to that bathroom.
Head leaned on the toilette, she heaved, blood falling from her mouth. The concoction, blood mucus and anything else she had consumed that day, came pouring out of her. The heaving hurt, hands gripped on the toilette, knuckles white. Once her fit was over, she slumped back against the wall. Another moment or so and she started heaving again, this time sobs.
What was happening to her? It is true that she hadn't been shot before, or even truly beaten, but it wasn't the pain that was bothering her. No. It was the humiliation, partially. To be a ball of leaking flesh on the floor of the inn, to be at the mercy of others, to need magic to survive. But, what really bothered her was how out of control she was. She banged her head against the wall once.
Mortality wasn't something she had thought that much about. Sure, she had been a little gun happy a few times, and thought that seemed fun at the time, the ultimate power of it was new to her. She took a few breaths, long and ragged, before pulling herself to her feet again. Measured steps pulled her back to bed. Once in the comfort of her sheets she was able to think again.
Shaking, her eyes ran around the darkened room. What was she doing? Firmly she resolved herself not to be here again. Not to be a sniffling ball of blood, mucus and a source of pity. Gid thought she didn't want power? Yeah... well, now she certainly did. And it was the power to make other people piles of mucus. A smile crossed her bloodied mouth as she drifted off to sleep-- for good that time.
Head leaned on the toilette, she heaved, blood falling from her mouth. The concoction, blood mucus and anything else she had consumed that day, came pouring out of her. The heaving hurt, hands gripped on the toilette, knuckles white. Once her fit was over, she slumped back against the wall. Another moment or so and she started heaving again, this time sobs.
What was happening to her? It is true that she hadn't been shot before, or even truly beaten, but it wasn't the pain that was bothering her. No. It was the humiliation, partially. To be a ball of leaking flesh on the floor of the inn, to be at the mercy of others, to need magic to survive. But, what really bothered her was how out of control she was. She banged her head against the wall once.
Mortality wasn't something she had thought that much about. Sure, she had been a little gun happy a few times, and thought that seemed fun at the time, the ultimate power of it was new to her. She took a few breaths, long and ragged, before pulling herself to her feet again. Measured steps pulled her back to bed. Once in the comfort of her sheets she was able to think again.
Shaking, her eyes ran around the darkened room. What was she doing? Firmly she resolved herself not to be here again. Not to be a sniffling ball of blood, mucus and a source of pity. Gid thought she didn't want power? Yeah... well, now she certainly did. And it was the power to make other people piles of mucus. A smile crossed her bloodied mouth as she drifted off to sleep-- for good that time.