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Post by FLETCHER CROSS on May 28, 2009 21:25:41 GMT -5
  SHOT THROUGH THE HEART, AND YOU'RE TO BLAME ;
DARLING, YOU GIVE LOVE A BAD NAME!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Working at the hospital was nice enough, but there was one catch--it was either super-hectic, or really, really boring. As bad as it was, he always hoped that there would be someone in real need of help--someone that they'd have to wheel to the emergency room as fast as they could. Well, not him, persay. He was just a volunteer; he didn't really have to do much other than check people in and tell them where they were supposed to go. But if, say, all the doctors were busy, and there was no one available to wheel a person down to the ER in their time of need, he would be there in a heartbeat. Sometimes he felt bad, wishing that others were in excruciating pain just so he could have some fun, but then he was given an application to fill out for a patient and that hesitance was lost. Then again, he also sometimes wished that there was a rare case where someone was shot through the heart and managed to survive, just so he could burst out into song.
His job was kind of boring.
Fletcher sighed, flicking a few strands of blonde hair out of his face as he leaned against the dull counter and watched the few people in the waiting room. There was a woman, who was furiously scribbling out her application--she was a bitch, he knew by the way she was viciously stabbing each box that applied to her. Next to her sat a young girl, pigtails and all, who kicked her legs back and forth as her eyes trailed around the room. A small smile tugged at his lips; she was, obviously, very excited about her first trip in a while. His smile grew wider as he moved on to the next person, who sat opposite the woman and her child. An old man with a wrinkled face and light blue eyes sat there, humming as quietly as he could and watching the clock patiently. He loved old people--wasn't too sure why. Maybe it was because they could be exceptionally cute, or maybe it was because they always seemed like they knew everything.
He leaned forward a little to stretch his back out, and then relaxed against the counter, arms crossed lazily in front of him. What to do? A soft sigh escaped his lips, and then an idea formed in his head. "Hey," he whispered, loud enough so that the little girl could here. Her head snapped to him and her eyes widened curiously. "Want to come see the fish?" He nodded behind him towards the tank of colorful fish. The mother turned to look at the tank for a moment, then Fletcher, and proceeded to write on her application again.
"Do they have names?" she asked quietly, biting her lip and looking toward the fish. They were pretty.
He took a quick look over his shoulder before answering. "Not all of them, but I'm sure you could name one?" Almost instantly, the girl's face lit up and she nodded. He bit back a laugh, and then stood up to push open the waist-high gate that stood between the girl and the tank. She ran up to it, carefully inspecting each fish and asking which were named and which were open to opinion. He answered her every time, smiling still as she reached up to the tiny, pinkish fish that she wanted to call her own. "Alright. What's it's name?" He bent down to her level and looked up at the fish.
"Her name is Pinky," she corrected him, looking up and nodding with sheer determination.
Almost as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, the woman was at the front of the desk, ringing the bell in the most annoying fashion she possibly could have. His face fell, and he stood up a little, a look of disbelief washing over his face. The woman called to her daughter, who also frowned, and gave Fletcher a quick hug before running off. The two left through the hallway and down to the room where she would eventually have her check-up. One of the doctors shot him a look that said "stop distracting the patients", and his frown deepened. It was like that--whenever a bit of fun came into the job, it was taken away a few moments later.
So, he stood behind the counter and leaned against it again--like the older man, watching the clock--except impatiently.
( words ) 762 words.
( tag ) open.
( music ) i wanna take a ride on your disco stick.
( outfit ) blue.
( other ) i hate starting threads. |
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Post by DOROTHY MILLER on May 30, 2009 21:12:25 GMT -5
Stupid…..stupid, stupid, STUPID!!
That one word resounded in Dorothy’s head. How could she let her Anima levels get this low? Well…it was probably because she missed breakfast since she overslept, but that was not the point! The point was, Dot looked sick and her ankle hurt because she had twisted it earlier on her walk. She couldn’t just heal herself, that’d only make things worse! So, the pale and tired girl trudged on through the city. Perhaps there was a pharmacy nearby, no – even better, she could just get something to eat and then she could heel her ankle on her own! Oh how brilliant she was! Dorothy smiled, no grinned widely and turned the corner – accidentally bumping into someone and thus falling onto her behind because she hadn’t been expecting it.
It was a Nun, a Nun with other Nuns.
Other Nuns who wanted to take her to the hospital.
….Well so much for that plan!
Did she really look that sick? Dorothy looked at her reflection in a store window as she was herded by the Nuns to only God knew where, damn did she look bad. Not only was she quite pale, but she was also sweating like she had a fever, but also shaking like she was cold. What? Did she have Malaria or something?! Could she even get Malaria? Dorothy continued to shiver as a Nun spoke up from behind her; she was the uptight sort of Nun, the kind that’d probably smack the crap right out of you! “This is no time for window shopping child! Walk faster if you can!”
The meek girl snapped away from her reflection and quickly nodded, looking at the older Nun. “Yes sister, sorry sister!” Dorothy swallowed hard and wiped some sweat from her forehead as they turned another corner , when the older Nun had spoken to her, it had sent shivers down her spine! That old wrinkle faced and that weird veil that curtained her face just made her look so scary! But if she stared that might get the older woman angry…and that’d only scare her more!
The group of women dragged her into a nearby hospital and shoved her to the front of the group, nearly knocking her pale and shaking body into the male worker in front of the counter. With alarmed, big blue eyes she looked up at the boy, who seemed to be around her age, as the older Nun came forward and pursed her lips as she stared down the boy. “Boy! Get this girl to a Doctor before she keels over!” Dorothy opened her mouth to try and set the situation straight, to try and tell them that all she needed was something to eat, but a look from the older Nun silenced her. Curse her shyness with strangers…
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Word count: 470 Status: Open…? Outfit: Ova here!Notes: I know…the tag is weird, I just really like that picture <<….
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Post by FLETCHER CROSS on May 30, 2009 22:07:03 GMT -5
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . He'd just about given up on having any fun that day. All of his friends were most likely out partying--well, maybe not Xio (then again, with what she did with Evan, you'd never know), but still. There was no one to call to keep him company, and he highly doubted that the people at the hospital were going to do anything to amuse him any further than they already were. So, he had grabbed a stack of applications and started filling one out for Emma. She needed to go see the doctor soon anyway, right? Why not get the paperwork done? With a huff, he blew a few more strands out of his face and began filling out the appropriate blanks. He was beginning to see just how much everyone else in the room hated the small, off-white sheets. Fortunately, the pen trailed a blue-green ink, and the curve of his letters made a dazzling contrast against the paper that kept him mildly interested in his job.
He paused, having realized that a pen shouldn't amuse him that much.
The boy let a frustrated grunt out and shoved the paper a little to his right. Clear your thoughts. He sighed outwardly through his nose and furrowed his brows as he attempted to calm himself. Then, his bright blue eyes flickered open again, and he set the blue pen down on top of Emma's application. Alright. Gently, he slid his glasses off his nose and set them down on the counter, lifting up a hand to rub his forehead and again brush away his hair. I have to get a better haircut, he thought numbly to himself as the strands of hair fell into his face again. As he attempted to get his hair out of his face, his elbow shoved his glasses a little farther onto Emma's application, and the pen rolled a little closer to the edge of the counter--but not exactly off yet.
This, of course, was a good thing. His glasses were safe from the oncoming attack. As his blue eyes looked back up, they widened. "A-ah...take a form?" he attempted weakly, watching as the group of nuns and frightened girl marched into the office. Suddenly, he felt himself falling back. A girl was being thrust into his chest. He crashed backwards into one of the rolling-chairs and skidded a little; after hitting one of the back desks and knocking down three file cabinets one after the other, he managed to push himself up and scramble back to the counter. What looked to be the lead nun was staring him down frightfully. His eyes, if possible, widened even more.
Finally, some action!
Almost immediately, he felt bad for thinking that. The girl in front of him was, clearly, in no mood to be dealing with a bunch of hard-ass nuns, and she didn't look all that well, either. "Right!" Within the blink of an eye, he had bolted through the back door in search of a doctor. A second later, he ran back through it, panting slightly. He was never that athletic. "What's wrong with you?" he managed, frowning. His head snapped back to look through the door and into the hallway as a doctor called him. Nodding vigorously, he called back, "Yes, there's--yeah--she's in here. No, she doesn't look that good..." The doctor called something back, and he swallowed, looking nervously back to the girl. No, frankly, I don't think she's going to make it that long. He bit his lip. "The doctor's coming--would you like some water, or would you like to sit down?"
"Oh." He turned to the nun that had yelled at him and promptly stuck an off-white, flimsy sheet in her hand. "Form."
( words ) 646 words
( tag ) dot and open!
( music ) let's have some fun, this beat is siiick.
( outfit ) still blue.
( other ) it's cool XD |
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Post by DOROTHY MILLER on May 30, 2009 23:42:24 GMT -5
 She was fine really! They didn’t have to go through all this trouble! Dorothy’s eyes squeezed shut from frustration as she sat on the floor in front of the other teen in the spinning chair. She only opened them when she heard the crashes made by the fallen file cabinets and such. Dot nearly jumped up and rushed past him toward the cabinets. “Ah! I’m so sorry! Lemme fix them!” She grabbed the edge of a cabinet and with all the strength – well maybe not all of it, but she isn’t strong – she lifted it back up and then did the same with the others. Luckily the Nuns were too busy with the boy to notice her deed, they probably would have yelled at her.
She watched the boy bolt into the other room, a new fear growing inside her. She almost wanted to yell after him: “Don’t leave me here with them!” but her mouth was clamped shut because her brain knew that’d get her in a huge amount of trouble! Dorothy timidly looked up at the Nuns and forced a small, but scared, smile. She smoothed out her dress and took in a deep breath through her mouth. “Er, if you want you can leave, I’m at the hospital now so…” They agreed to leave thankfully, but not without a lecture about taking better care of herself, which she just nodded through. The Nuns were already on their way out when the boy returned. "What's wrong with you?" [/b] She blinked at him and looked down at his feet; she didn’t really know how to explain it. So she didn’t. “Ah, it’s nothing really! I just…I just need something to eat!” Dorothy waved her hand in front of her as if it would get him to believe her or to just calm him down, but he just turned to talk to the approaching Doctor. She frowned, darn it didn’t work! She sighed and folded her pale hands over her chest, only unfolding one to take the form from him with gentle but shaky fingers. “I’ll fill it out. I didn’t want to bother them anymore so I told them there wasn’t any need to stay.” She looked at the piece of paper and then gave the boy a wide-eyed curious look. “Should I go to a room…? Yes! Finally she said something that would help her! If he could just give her a room she could eat, get better, fix her ankle, and then escape! Yes it was perfect![/size][/blockquote][/center] - - - - - - - Word count: 421 |
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Post by FLETCHER CROSS on May 31, 2009 21:20:21 GMT -5
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . As he calmed down he tried to figure out what to do. Admittedly, he wasn't all that great under pressure, and his brain had pretty much collapsed under him at the moment. He racked his remaining knowledge for what he could do, and looked to the girl. It wasn't as if he was training to become a doctor; he was just a volunteer, so he didn't know much of the symptoms of anything. He had to use his basic knowledge of the world, and many episodes of Grey's (which he absolutely hated, by the way; Devon used to make him watch it), to determine what was wrong with her. He took a few steps backward, shaking his messy head of hair in an attempt to gather himself, and then felt the back of his legs press against something. He turned and saw several boxes of files that had been hurriedly stacked in an attempt to keep them from spilling all over the ground. A frown split across his face for a moment. He hadn't moved them, so who did?
The next thing he noticed was that the nuns has, for lack of a better phrase, ditched the girl.
He lifted a hand to rub his closed eyes in frustration. Aren't nuns supposed to be considerate and all that jazz? He didn't have time to find someone to babysit the girl in front of him; though she looked to be about his age, she also looked a bit on the naive side. "Alright," he mumbled to himself, letting his hands slide off his face and weary eyes rest on the girl before him. Her words barely registered in his thoughts as he watched her. Slowly, his eyes traced around the visible veins of her skin and the darkened shadows near her eyes. That can't be good, he thought numbly, tracing the veins on his own skin. He was shocked back into the real world as the doctor brushed past him to get a good luck at the girl. The man mumbled something under his breath, and nodded to Fletcher, who straightened up a bit.
Take her to a room.
The doctor walked out and the boy gave a short nod, then looked over to the girl, trying to recall what she had said while he was paying attention to the doctor. "Ah--no, I'll do the form," he added quickly, gently extracting the pale sheet from her equally pale and slender fingers. "We need to find you a room, then..." He'd past the "panic" mode; now he was in a state that was somewhat...out of it. He felt like his body was talking and doing all the actions for him, and he was just along for the ride. "Follow me." He opened the gate again, and the door to the back hallway, and started leading her down. Once they reached the third door to the left, he unlocked it and pushed it open. "Wait in there," he instructed, biting his lip. What if she died, and it was all his fault? What if she died while he wasn't in the room!? "Please," he added, scratching the back of his neck shyly. "I'll be right back."
With that, he dashed off. The werewolf skidded into the lobby of the hospital, where the previously silent occupants were now chattering loudly, and headed to the mini-fridge under the left side of the desk. Fletcher ignored the questions they shot at them, frantically undoing plastic bags until he got to his lunch: a turkey sandwich and some chips. A new woman had approached the desk, and was tapping the small bell incessantly. "I'll be right with you," he muttered under his breath, stress pulling at his voice as he dashed off again and into the bright, peach hallway. He slowed to a stop when he reached the third room to the left, to appear a bit more professional than he felt, and entered the room again. "You said you wanted something to eat, right?" He frowned a little. "This was all I could find; I'm sorry if you don't like turkey." Gently, he set the food at her side. "Or lays," he added in afterthought. But I think everyone likes those.
With an aggravated sigh, he hopped up onto the counter next to the sink and picked up the clipboard with the forms on it. He grabbed the black pen which wrote in the blue-green ink and began filling out the physical description of the symptoms. He paused after a moment. "What's your name?" His blue eyes rose curiously. And why are you here?
( words ) 788 words
( tag ) dot and open!
( music ) let's have some fun, this beat is siiick.
( outfit ) still blue.
( other ) lalalalalala (: |
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Post by DOROTHY MILLER on May 31, 2009 22:20:49 GMT -5
Dorothy blinked at the Doctor practically inspecting her with big, curious eyes. She tilted her head down slightly and took a small step back, feeling a tad uncomfortable. Though she willingly gave up the form and also followed him without another word. She stuck close to his side, a little afraid of what that Doctor might do to her. You know; weird tests, needles, and all that scary-as-hell jazz! Dot shivered at the thought. She gulped and practically ducked into the room the moment he unlocked it. The idea to lock it appeared in her mind, but that would also lock the nurse…guy out wouldn’t it? And besides, he had a key so it’d be rather fruitless. The Fallen Angel sighed and hopped up onto the counter/operating table – she didn’t know what it was called! Nervously, she ran a hand through her hair and nervously looked around the room. There was a window! She looked out of it hopefully before the boy returned again, setting down a lunch in front of her. She grinned and picked up the sandwich, carefully unwrapping the plastic from it as he began to talk.
"This was all I could find; I'm sorry if you don't like turkey, or lays,"
At that, Dot looked up at him curiously. “Doesn’t…Doesn’t everyone like lays?” She said meekly almost, but she shook her head, condemning it as a stupid thing to say at the moment before she took a few bites of the sandwich. She heard him sigh almost irritably and Dorothy looked at him, swallowing what was in her mouth before speaking up. “Er…I’m sorry if I’m a bother…” Dorothy averted her gaze to the window nervously as she took another bite. She wasn’t concentrating on what he had but was actually thinking how big the fall was from the window to the ground…couldn’t be too far could it?
Suddenly she snapped out of it and looked at him like she was a deer in headlights. “Oh, I’m Dorothy Miller.” Dorothy looked down at her legs; a little color was beginning to come back. She sighed in relief, thinking that she may be able to dodge whatever possible tests they may do on her. She took another bite, almost halfway done with the sandwich, she had been hungry.
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Post by FLETCHER CROSS on Jun 1, 2009 16:42:48 GMT -5
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Doesn't everyone like lays?
Holy shit. He might've found his soulmate.
He'd told how many people before?--and no one had given him that answer. Not Parker, not Andrew, not Devon, and not Jay. If he wasn't completely gay, didn't already have a boyfriend, and wasn't already screwed with a kid and three other fighting parents, he would have given her his number and taken her on a magical boat ride or something like that. Lays were, clearly, the best thing ever, and everyone loved lays. This girl was the first person he'd met that clearly understood this concept. What he really wanted to do was throw his hands up in the air and shout for everything holy, but he held himself back; that was both unprofessional and fucking scary. Instead he settled for an already wide grin and nodded shyly. "Yes, thank you. Everyone likes lays."
She was kind of cute, he had to admit. She had the whole "I'm a cute little puppy, please don't kick me, but do give me tons of free, expensive-looking items" thing going on. He reached up a hand to tousle his hair as he worked at the application, and as he heard her speak again, his eyes snapped up. He blinked, confused as to what would spur on her words, and then rose his eyebrows. "Oh, no--you haven't done anything." The werewolf offered a weak smile at her. "I'm just a pissy little boy. That's all." His smile widened the tiniest bit, and then, before you knew it, he was hunched over the clipboard again and trying to fill out the form. "Besides, it's my job, right?" he added, voice lowered in concentration, "--ah. Age?"
"Dorothy Miller," he repeated, scratching his head and frowning. He swore he'd heard that name before--but couldn't quite figure out where exactly he'd heard it. Maybe it was around town?--or at school? Given the fact that she looked about his age, it was possible...but, if she was his age, wouldn't he have at least met her, or heard of her at school? Oh. She could be a new kid. As all of these possibilites flowed through his head, he had completely forgotten the well-being of the patient. That was always the first rule around here--keep in mind the well-being of the patient. What else were hospitals for, anyway? Gently, he set the clipboard down next to him on the counter and slid off of it, brushing the dust from his jeans.
"You--" He broke off as his eyes fell to her legs. They had returned to normal color. Call him crazy, but that didn't just happen on a regular basis. If the problem had something to do with nourishment, it (usually) took a few hours at the least to gain that much color back. Worried, he took a step back. This isn't good. With so many of the inhabitants of the town being regular humans, supernatural beings like themselves weren't usually tolerated. There was a chance that the doctor would notice, and word would get out about the girl--not to mention that Fletcher would lose his job. He lowered his voice a little. "What are you?"
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Post by DOROTHY MILLER on Jun 1, 2009 17:49:27 GMT -5
She was glad that he didn’t just give her an odd look for the Lay’s comment that she herself thought was stupid, but she was even more glad that she wasn’t a bother to him – as far as she knew anyway, people do lie about these things after all. Dot even giggled at his joke, covering her mouth with her hand as if to muffle it. Dorothy let the hand fall before she took another bite of the sandwich. Whose sandwich was this? This didn’t taste like hospital food…Eventually she just shrugged it off; there was probably nothing she could do about it anyway.
He was clever but cute, maybe shy like her even? She couldn’t really tell just yet, she had only known him for what…5 maybe 10 minutes at the most…something like that? "Besides, it's my job, right? Ah. Age?" Ah right, this was a serious setting, it is a hospital right? Dot pursed her lips together and tapped her legs with two fingers on her legs. At any moment the Doctor could just burst in and do only God knows what to her!
She gulped and stole a glance to the door before looking back at him while she answered. “16.” He repeated her name to her, like he was trying to remember something. Dorothy bit her lip and took a good hard look at him. Although she hadn’t been here for very long, he did look familiar. Where had she seen him? At school? Maybe, though she couldn’t be sure since she kept to herself most of the time. She blinked at him then jammed the rest of the sandwich in her mouth. She could ask later, later being on campus since she was planning on escaping through the window.
As he rose to his feet, Dot picked up the chip back and slowly opened it. She picked out a chip and lifted it to her mouth when she noticed he was looking at her oddly. Well not at her per se, but her legs. She gulped again and looked at the rest of her boy; it was beginning to look much healthier than before. He must have noticed. She looked down, now she was in trouble – big trouble. He’d tell everyone and then who knows what they might suspect! "What are you?"
Dorothy looked up at him rather sadly; it made her sound like some sort of monster. She debated whether or not to tell him, it wasn’t the sort of thing you could tell easily to someone with absolutely no repercussions! The Fallen Angel sighed and parted her lips to speak as she looked at him rather desperately. She was afraid of what might happen to her if other people besides him learned of her true race. “You have to promise not to tell…okay?” She paused, letting a few moments of silence pass by. “I’m an Angel…well I used to be anyway.” Dot averted her gaze once again.
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Notes: None...o-o |
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Post by FLETCHER CROSS on Jun 2, 2009 17:07:45 GMT -5
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sixteen, huh? Same age, then, but that didn't mean anything. There were plenty of sixteen year-olds around the area, and just because she looked slightly familiar didn't mean that she went to Winterthorne. First of all, he spent a lot of his time outside of the school, and it was likely that he'd seen her before--even if he had just caught a glimpse of her face. Second, what with her current condition, it was also possible that she'd been to the hospital before--probably not with as serious of a case, otherwise he would've remembered her.
Ah, well. He marked down her age and focused on the major problem at hand. This was probably one of the factors that contributed to the whole "never let Fletcher be a doctor" thing. He was determined to know more of the minute, unimportant facts rather than see the bigger picture in order to help someone. Plus, the sight of too much blood made him feel nauseated--and, obviously, he wasn't all that great under pressure. It was a miracle that the hospital had taken him as a volunteer in the first place. Then again, they were short on staff as it was, and had figured that if they put him in a position like "secretary" then he wouldn't have to deal with much gore. Hopefully.
As Fletcher looked up again, he was struck by sadness as well. He couldn't recall how many times he'd been asked the same question with the same tone. It'd just hit him how it must've sounded--that he thought she was some sort of freak. Well, what was said was said, and he couldn't take that back, but he could tell her what he had actually meant. Besides, she was a sweet-looking girl, and he doubted that she deserved the pain that he was probably putting her through. In fact, she was probably better off somewhere other than the hospital she was currently at. No one really seemed to give a shit.
"Okay," he agreed, biting his lip and watching her. Fletcher had to put her best interest in front of her feelings; he would let her explain what she was before he apologized. Maybe it was a shitty thing to do, considering she was looking better, but curiosity and her well-being got to him. Silence overcame the two of them, and he shuffled awkwardly. Suddenly, his shoulders slumped. An angel? That's all? --No, from the sound of it, she was a fallen angel. "--you mean you're a Fallen?" He hoped she caught that; it was really only the kids at Winterthorne who called fallen angels the "Fallens", but maybe it had spread further than the school. "Why did you fall?" He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. "You seem nice enough..."
He broke off. "Oh!" he mumbled, embarrassed, "You don't have to answer that. Sorry."
( words ) exactly 500. wow. x]
( tag ) dot and open!
( music ) laundry day. see you there. underthings. tumbling.
( outfit ) it hasn't changed, i swear.
( other ) with my freeze ray, i will STOP! the world! |
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Post by DOROTHY MILLER on Jun 4, 2009 14:29:46 GMT -5
Unlike the boy in front of her, Dot spent more time at the school; however, she didn’t interact with many people, being her shy little self and all. She mostly kept to herself, going to class, and then sneaking into the art room when she could to – as embarrassing as it sounds – finger paint. All other times… she was either at work or just wandering around the area around the school and town. She didn’t think of herself as anti-social, but she just didn’t want to bother anyone, though if they wanted to tag along that was fine – she would like the company, the more the merrier right?!
She was truly relieved that he agreed not to tell, perhaps the Doctors wouldn’t find out. Dot had heard that they weren’t all that kind to non-human creatures, and the fact that she was a Fallen probably didn’t make them want to help a whole lot more either. Dot frowned at that; humans could be so…unsympathetic at times. If they didn’t know you personally, they don’t care. If you were to fall down, only a small handful of people would offer their hands to you or ask if you were all right, the rest just faced forward and walked away.
"--you mean you're a Fallen?"
Dot had heard that term used at school, not for her, but for others, who she had assumed were Fallen like her. What they had done, she didn’t know, then again she didn’t care! They were more like her than anyone else! They had all been through the same type of pain; the same type of shame had to be endured too! The people upstairs had even gone through the trouble of making her own wings an everlasting reminder of what she had done to those Angels who had killed her master.
"Why did you fall? You seem nice enough..." She bit her lip, that was an uncomfortable thing to ask, but she wasn’t angry of course. Dorothy, instead, just gave him a faint, nervous smile as if she were telling him that she couldn’t answer that nicely. He seemed to realize on his own though. "Oh! You don't have to answer that. Sorry."
She nodded slowly and hopped down from her perch on the operating table, only landing on one foot because of her hurt ankle. “Thanks, I don’t really….like talking about it.” With that said, Dorothy’s hand took on a mint green glow as she bent down and touched her ankle, it only taking a few seconds to heal before the glow disappeared and Dorothy stood up again. [/blockquote] - - - - - - - |
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Post by FLETCHER CROSS on Jun 8, 2009 12:49:47 GMT -5
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . He watched quietly as she got down from the table, the sound of paper crinkling as she got up, and looked down at her ankle as well. Cautiously, he too slipped off the counter and dropped to the floor, shoes slapping against the linoleum and echoing for a few moments. His light blue eyes darted from her good leg to her bad one, trying to pinpoint the problem area. Then, as she stood, he saw it: her ankle. He was no expert on these things, but even he could tell that she had sprained it, or something of the sort. Did she need a brace? Yes, probably. He was about to go on a mad dash for the doctor he'd called earlier when he remembered the circumstances. She had the ability to heal, right?--or something like it. The glowing thing she did. She'd be fine, right?
Almost immediately as the thoughts crossed his mind, she had bent down, tracing her fingers along what appeared to be the wound. He watched, wide-eyed, as the green glow strengthened and faded away, leaving her ankle in perfect condition. That must come in handy, he thought numbly, folding his arms and watching. What she did must not have been regular healing; whenever Parker healed him, he turned a faint yellow, and his body heated up. Then again, Parker was an angel angel, not a Fallen; he never quite got what the extreme differences were, but maybe it had something to do with healing powers (he knew about the wings; that was obvious). "It's fine," he breathed, still inspecting the dynamics of her healing abilities. Maybe it's a different power, but similar to healing?
It was then he had realized that she had returned to her full height, and he was still hunched over, inspecting her ankle. He blushed lightly and snapped upward, flashing a sheepish smile. "Right. Sorry about that." If there was one thing you got to know about Fletcher, it was that he was a very curious boy. He liked to understand how things worked, and why, and how such things came about to be. He swallowed a little, then gradually let his light eyes return to meet hers. "I never really...introduced myself." He scratched his neck shyly. "I'm Fletcher. I'm a...well, I'm a volunteer here." His introduction still felt awkward, and he felt like he was talking to a crowd. "I...uh...go to Winterthorne?" He nodded behind him--as if they could actually see the school from the room--and added, "So...I'm like you?" He bit his lip, unable to think of any other way to put it. I'm special. Like you.
( words ) 456 words.
( tag ) dot and open!
( music ) laundry day. see you there. underthings. tumbling.
( outfit ) it hasn't changed, i swear.
( other ) with my freeze ray, i will STOP! the world! |
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