(no subject)
It was difficult, truly, for Des to think about anything other than the pain. His body was failing him at last, and he seemed to be constantly in something varying between discomfort and agony. He was given some, island manufactured, drugs that helped a little with that but they also left him groggy and confused and unable to truly follow what was happening. The pain was just about the only thing that still seemed real, sometimes.
But, he knew enough to know that he didn't have long left. Every day when he woke up in the morning was something of a surprise at this stage. And, in his good moments, when he was still sharp enough to think coherently, he considered what that meant. What kind of life he had led, now it was all done with and over.
He had never reached China, in the end. Never done half of what he wanted to do in Jokertown, except in a dream. Never been able to act on the lessons he'd learned in his time away. It still felt in many ways, that his life was incomplete.
And yet, perhaps it was simply a dying man grasping for what comfort he could take, but the behavior of the jokers in his dream had been deeply reassuring and so too had been the kindness which he had been treated on this island. He no longer felt such despair as he had in that hotel room in Jerusalem.
His people were in the hands of the JADL and his other friends in Jokertown and all he could do now was trust them and if his own work had given them a platform to start from than that was as fine a legacy as he could ask for.
The truth was, all in all, he had not done so bad. He had flown both with the Turtle and without. He had wet his foot in the Ganges, gambled in Havana and watched impossible stars cross the sky of an impossible Island. He had shaken hands with aces and mutants and politicians and had made good friends who had loved him. He had been married to a woman he adored and held his daughter in his arms and not been without company even in his last weeks. He had lived a better life,a fuller one, than many others could boast of.
He had even watched the Jolson Story in the end, alongside Captain Rogers, though in all honesty he had thought it overrated. There was little else that could be done, at this stage.
He was too pathetically weak to try and move much, but now that he'd drifted back into lucidity he searched the room with his eyes, looking for something he could focus on other than the pain.
(OOC: This is Des' last entry as he'll be dying in his sleep in the early hours of tonight. As a result it'll be open for as long as people keep replying. You don't have to have met Des before to tag in, either. Everyone is welcome.)
But, he knew enough to know that he didn't have long left. Every day when he woke up in the morning was something of a surprise at this stage. And, in his good moments, when he was still sharp enough to think coherently, he considered what that meant. What kind of life he had led, now it was all done with and over.
He had never reached China, in the end. Never done half of what he wanted to do in Jokertown, except in a dream. Never been able to act on the lessons he'd learned in his time away. It still felt in many ways, that his life was incomplete.
And yet, perhaps it was simply a dying man grasping for what comfort he could take, but the behavior of the jokers in his dream had been deeply reassuring and so too had been the kindness which he had been treated on this island. He no longer felt such despair as he had in that hotel room in Jerusalem.
His people were in the hands of the JADL and his other friends in Jokertown and all he could do now was trust them and if his own work had given them a platform to start from than that was as fine a legacy as he could ask for.
The truth was, all in all, he had not done so bad. He had flown both with the Turtle and without. He had wet his foot in the Ganges, gambled in Havana and watched impossible stars cross the sky of an impossible Island. He had shaken hands with aces and mutants and politicians and had made good friends who had loved him. He had been married to a woman he adored and held his daughter in his arms and not been without company even in his last weeks. He had lived a better life,a fuller one, than many others could boast of.
He had even watched the Jolson Story in the end, alongside Captain Rogers, though in all honesty he had thought it overrated. There was little else that could be done, at this stage.
He was too pathetically weak to try and move much, but now that he'd drifted back into lucidity he searched the room with his eyes, looking for something he could focus on other than the pain.
(OOC: This is Des' last entry as he'll be dying in his sleep in the early hours of tonight. As a result it'll be open for as long as people keep replying. You don't have to have met Des before to tag in, either. Everyone is welcome.)