shygod (shygod) wrote in athinblackline, @ 2009-04-14 21:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | ribbon, shy |
He's not just royal, Allegedly loyal
Who: Shy OT Ribbon
When: Tuesday April 14th, late night
Where: Medical
What: Shy is recovering
Shy had done very little since he returned to consciousness, in fact, he had physically done nothing more than roll of his back and curl onto his side. White eyes were half closed and entirely distant as he listened to the hum of machines around him. He had to actually physically listen with his ears, as currently nothing electronic was allowed to touch his hands. While he was clearly more healthy than before, he had refused to talk to anyone, including Fischer. While not speaking was not unusual for this particular mutant, it was proving to be a large obstacle for the young man's would-be care givers, as they had no idea if his mind was healed enough to trust him to return to his beloved technology.
Shy felt miserable, and was suddenly saddled with an odd feeling he was quite unused to: Guilt. He knew he had inadvertently done something terrible. Something drastic which had hurt the island. Fischer had been both concerned about and furious with him and the boy was quite unsure how to deal with any of this. His body temperature had risen dangerously high during that night of chaos only a few days ago, his mind had gone wild and caused chaos both on the island and beyond, though he was quite unaware of just how far his electronic fingers had reached. Fortunately for him, and all of Revolve really, the actions of scrambling the microchips of several computers used by various governments could not be traced back to him.
His body temperature was still slightly elevated, but the various voices in his head head at least stopped. He was without Computer, even though the voice, the personality, existed only in his mind, it would only come out, only speak when he was connected to the computer itself. Even if he were to connect to the Internet, to the electrical system of the island, he still could not speak to Computer unless he physically touched the device. Such was the complex depths of the boy's insanity. After the roaring chatter of the thousands of voices in his head, the current silence in his skull was deafening.
He was alone. Entirely, completely alone. He squeezed his eyes more tightly closed, attempting to sill himself to shut down, but the cold isolation was nagging at him far too deeply to allow this. He wanted Comptuer. He wanted his Internet. He was a god locked away from his land, his home, his people. It was overwhelming.