012 - [Infirmary Spam]

[triggered_it]

[Adrian hadn't spoken to anyone since he had woken up in the infirmary. In fact, he had been flat out avoiding even looking at the journal systems or making eye contact with anyone around him. He slept most of the time, during the day, though it brought little comfort. At night, he lay awake and watched the moving shapes of the ceiling, an odd form

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[devils_bargain]

[Dorian did not wake immediately, he didn't wake for a long while. He was dreaming, if these sleeping visions could be called dreams. His sleep was fitful and he was trying to wake, scrabbling at the edges of blurred nightmares in which he felt small and alone, for the exit. For the end. But it didn't come.

Until finally, it did. His eyes opened and he stared up at the ceiling as the dreams chased themselves away. He remembered nothing of them, and right now, very little of what had transpired with Henry. He was aware of fatigue, and the heaviness of limbs, but most of all, he had a terrible headache that split through his mind and his thoughts like bright hot point of light.

Dorian was aware of someone leaving, but was not aware that it was Hayley. He had neither looked nor cared, opting instead to close his eyes again and hide from the light. At length, he spoke, voice very low.]

Is anyone there?

[triggered_it]

[Adrian did not want to respond. He wanted to go back to sleep. He considered the option for a long while, before finally opting to respond.]

I'm here, Dorian. [He was sure it would be noted that his voice lacked any of the usual pleasantness. His reluctance to converse was showing.]

[devils_bargain]

[It was Adrian. Dorian was silent for some time, unsure what to say. Something had happened, clearly, but there were gaps in his memory, things he didn't remember, and that unsettled him greatly. It was difficult to think back, the pain in his head distracting him.

He remembered snippets, grasping at them like dark threads, but they faded into the secret places of his mind, beyond his reach.]

What... what happened?

[triggered_it]

We died in port.

This is the death toll. You'll be well again within a few days. [He was developing an agonizing headache as well, so he had to shut his eyes as he spoke.]

[devils_bargain]

We died?

[Dorian's voice was full of disbelief. Or perhaps exhaustion. It was difficult to tell, and he tried to sit up, to look at Adrian, but felt an overwhelming surge of nausea and lay back down quickly enough.]

[triggered_it]

[Adrian hadn't moved since Hayley left, still lying on his side.]

Again, yes.

Welcome back. [It's said without much sincerity or warmth. It's a cold statement expressing his own hatred of being forced to be back here.]

[devils_bargain]

[There is a long pause of silence. Dorian is trying to remember dying, but all he can recall is the first time, with the painting.]

How did it happen?

[triggered_it]

[An equally long pause, as if trying to recall.]

I don't know. [Lies.]

[devils_bargain]

[Dorian remembers very little. He remembers agreeing to go with Adrian, and then... nothing after that. At least not yet.]

Nor I.

[triggered_it]

[Adrian just goes back to sulking. He's not in the mood for conversation.]

[devils_bargain]

[Dorian is quiet. For a very brief while.]

Did I follow you downstairs?

[triggered_it]

Yes.

[Pause]

Dorian, you shot yourself. [He's clearly annoyed.]

[devils_bargain]

I... what?

[Clear disbelief.]

With what?

[triggered_it]

[Also in clear disbelief.]

With a gun.

[The tone implies: "you moron."]

[devils_bargain]

[Dorian is in shock. There is an incredibly long silence. He stares at the ceiling. He can picture it, but he cannot remember.]

Tell me more.

[His tone is demanding. Yet he sounds tired... beyond tired.]

[triggered_it]

[He's too tired to argue.]

You saw a ghost pretending to be someone you knew, I assume. I couldn't see who you were talking to, though.