→ (signpost) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-11-09 14:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | gwen stacy |
Who: Dolores
What: Life-changing event
Where: Passages → Hospital
When: Recently
Warnings/Rating: Nay!
The kick landed Dolores in Passages' hallway, bruised and battered and aching all over. She knew precisely what had occurred, and it made her want to lose whatever remained of her lunch all over the dirty carpet. But she'd read enough comics and played enough games to know there must always be villains, and she'd just had the bad luck to end up with one in her head.
That made her pause, knees and hands, and she listened.
Silence.
Everything hurt, and she couldn't stand without her back screaming in protest. Tears welled up in her eyes, and still she listened. Maybe she'd get someone good. Someone fun. She considered Harley for a moment, and she longed for the entertainment of the ship, but she preferred to be rather done with villains, at least for the time being. She suspected being Harley Quinn was nowhere near as fun as pretending to be Harley Quinn.
The world rocked, and she realized it was just her. Azkaban, she decided, was rather unfortunate. And James Potter was an hijo de puta - Sorry, Mum Potter. She groaned, and she managed to crawl to the edge of the hall, and still there was silence in her mind and screaming in her bones.
"This wasn't what I meant when I said I wanted excitement in my life," she informed the walls, the ceiling, the horrendously moldy carpet, the unfortunately peeling wallpaper- Who chose horrid wallpaper like that anyway?
It was excruciating, using the railing to stand and then taking steps befitting a tiny WoW goblin all the way to the curb, where the cabbie looked terrified indeed that his passenger could barely stand upright. But she managed it. It was, perhaps, the most challenging thing she'd done in her entire life; the realization of which made her groan.
Diosito, she was truly underwhelmed by her own existence. There was nothing for it. She would need to spend the week in bed with Star Trek. Picard always made everything better.
In her mind, there was a tiny chirp of approval.
"Picard?"
The cabbie looked in the rearview warily.
"Fine, Jean Luc, don't saying anything. We can talk later, when I can keep my eyes open."
The cabbie changed course, toward the local hospital, but Dolores didn't even notice.
"Make it so." She pointed an imperious finger at the front window of the cab. "Engage."
In her mind, a girl laughed.