|It's a Graves thing (soundofwings) wrote in doorslogs,|
@ 2012-05-29 09:13:00
|Entry tags:||alfred pennyworth|
What: Post-hotel Morning
Where: The hotel where Iris is currently living
Warnings/Rating: Some very sidelong mentions of minor injuries and sex.
Iris had seen more than her share of strangeness in the past few years. Most of it fell under the umbrella of hallucinations and little fissures in reality, but it was strange nonetheless. She'd also seen too much hurt - both her own and others'. She knew that it had left her jaded in more ways than one, but even so, it didn't always help when the world turned on its side to shake everything up again. There was still that part of her that wondered if everything was just her mind making things up - at this point she wouldn't be surprised if she was locked away somewhere, hallucinating everything - but those thoughts changed nothing, so she treated everything like it was real and did her very best to muddle through. That didn't always help though, and the morning after being trapped in the hotel found her trying to put some pieces of herself back together.
After talking to Luke and telling him to get home to Gus, she'd headed back to the hotel where she'd been living and called first one of her doctors and second to the concierge. Shortly after that, she had a pharmacy bag in her hand (painkillers, a refill of her anxiety medication, and the morning-after pill) and was climbing into the shower. The hotel's nearly unlimited supply of hot water was appreciated as she scrubbed at every single inch of skin, hissing when the water hit the scrapes and marks on her body but wanting to get the feel of the hotel off of herself. To round out her morning, by the time she emerged from the steam again, a hair stylist was waiting at her door. Her hair seemed like a strange thing to worry about, but between the dark color of it and the deep bruises that now decorated her neck, chest, and shoulders, she didn't even feel like herself when she looked in the mirror. Maybe that would be a blessing to most, but it only made her hands shake, especially after not feeling quite herself the night before. When the stylist was done, the bruises remained but at least she felt more like herself again. Clinging to as much composure as she could, she wished the stylist a good day, locked and barred the door behind her, spoke to Louis, and then curled up in the oversized bed, body aching and praying for sleep.
Everything and everyone else could wait.