isla wolfe demands your presence (convoquer) wrote in invol_rpg, @ 2012-11-12 21:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! log, isla wolfe, oliver wang |
WHO: Isla Wolfe & Oliver Wang
WHAT: Quebecois reunite!!
WHEN: Monday afternoon.
WHERE: A hallway not too far from the sleeping area.
WARNINGS: None.
STATUS: Complete.
Isla had been keeping busy. After three days of worrying and crying and trying not to fall asleep, she finally couldn’t stand to be in the room with all the sleepers for more than fifteen minutes at a time. She was all restless energy and third-wave adrenaline, dark circles under her eyes and a tendency to drum her fingers against her lips, her thigh, her shoulder. She was carrying towels from one closet to another (the staff quickly ran out of creative tasks for the students) when her phone buzzed. Almost immediately she was on alert - what could it be? Did someone need food? Did they want to be teleported somewhere? FROM: kos kos mette they’re awake!! Isla shrieked with joy, the towels tumbling out of her arms as she jumped and flailed, tears of happiness springing to her eyes. They were awake!! Richie and Oliver and Mariana and Carmela and, they were back! She wanted to see them, how quickly could she get there, or... FROM: kos kos mette DON’T TELEPORT RICHIE Just a matter of swapping from one bright pinpoint in her mind to another, done without thinking, and there he was. “OLIVER!!!” It had taken Oliver a minute to simply calm his heart rate when he woke up - he was done fighting, he wasn’t stuck in The Shining anymore, he was back at IVI and he was going to be fine. He paced around his bed waiting for for some basic first aid and bandages, very grateful that he wasn’t nearly as beaten up or injured as some of the people he saw around him. He was safe. It was over. All he needed was a good hot shower and some good normal food and maybe some new clothes because he’d been sleeping in these for four days and he was really ready to get out of them and then he felt a familiar pull. “Oh god - “ was all he managed to get out before the colors started to blend and fade to black, and then he was out in a hallway and the equally familiar shriek was the only warning he got before Isla launched herself at him. Muscle memory kicked in and he braced himself, catching her before she knocked them both to the ground and wincing slightly as she hit a particularly bad bruise on his ribs. “ - Isla - careful there’s a - hi, I see you missed me,” he finished in breathless French, laughing. It felt strange to laugh, to feel happy about something that didn’t involve not getting stabbed or haunted or eaten by inanimate objects. “Why are there towels?” “Missed you!” Isla cried in their mother tongue, sitting up from where she’d fallen on top of Oliver. “I nearly died without you, I--” Just then his bruises and cuts - and the fact that he winced - registered, and horror dawned on her face. “Oh, mon coeur, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have teleported you, are you okay?!” Unbidden, tears sprang into her eyes as she scrambled off Oliver and picked up one of the towels she’d dropped, prepared to dab blood away or... whatever else you might do with towels. Trust Isla to bring up dying right after they’d all just been rescued. “A life without me would be pretty terrible,” and he slowly propped himself up on his elbows, glad that Isla had removed herself. Not that having a girl on top of him was something he normally disliked but such activities were much easier (not to mention more pleasant) without injuries. “I’ll try to spare you from such a loss if I can.” He briefly considered ways to sit up without using his wrists and when none of his limbs felt particularly cooperative he bit his lip and pulled himself up by his shirt, the fabric stretching to the limit to accommodate the dead weight. He hated doing that to a perfectly good shirt but he could always fix it later. “I am not that bad, really. Nothing serious, just these - “ and he held up his wrists, “and I will be fine.” “What’s wrong with your wrists?!” Isla wailed, wringing the towel tight between her hands, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’m such an idiot, I’m sorry!” Flustered and upset, she sprang to her feet and started pacing around Oliver, fluttering around him - not touching, dabbing at a cut with the towel, swiping stoically at her eyes. “Do you want me to help you back to the infirmary? Oh! I could run there and teleport you back, do you want me to do that? I can do that,” she decided, starting to walk purposefully back towards the infirmary, determined to make right her wrong. “Whoa, it’s - relax, ma chere, it’s just a superficial wound, no big deal.” He stifled a laugh at her fluttering - it was so preposterously dramatic, so like her, so normal, and he found it weirdly reassuring. If anything proved that the dream was over, it was Isla’s hysterics. “Wait, wait! I can walk, just - help me up?” He reached out to her, hoping that Isla was smart enough to grab for his arms or elbows instead of his hands. She spun on her heel and rushed back to Oliver, all “bien sur, d’accord!” and more self-effacement as she bent and gently tugged him up by his elbows. Once he was standing, she didn’t let go - only shifted her grasp so she was hugging him again, more gently this time. “I’m sorry,” she said, softly now, savoring the sensation of having him back, whole, awake and in one piece. “I am ridiculous. Are you sure you’re okay? I was really scared.” He wrapped his arms around her, helping his arms move into place with a telekinetic nudge. He knew he was abusing his power but at this moment he didn’t care; he could definitely use a hug at this moment and he’d have plenty of time to rest later. “You are ridiculous but I like it, never change.” He paused, not sure how to answer her next question. “I am glad it’s over,” he said finally. “I never want to - I’m just, I’m glad it’s over.” Isla let the embrace linger for a few moments longer before she pulled away and kissed Oliver once on each cheek - another token of home. “It is over, and you’re back, and everything is going to be okay. You have me! And what more could you want?” she said laughingly. She did have moments of self-awareness, few and far between though they were. Still cautious, she shifted herself around Oliver so she went from hug to support. “Let’s get back to the infirmary, mon chou.” “Good question,” Oliver smiled at her, and they started for the medbay before he remembered. “Wait, before we go - “ He turned halfway and in a few seconds the towels had folded themselves into neat stacks and flew back into the open closet. “There. Now on y va?” |