Who: Vic & Open What: Vic wakes up! Where: Infirmary recovery wing When: Monday ongoing Status: Open to different visitors at different times, just start a new subthread! Rating: Low
Vic wouldn’t have said she was overconfident about taking to the skies for the battle, but she’d been training so damn long and working her arse off for months so she felt ready to get out there. The longer they were relegated to life underground, the hungrier the military seemed to kick arse. Vic was eager to take to the skies and hex the shite out of some enemies.
She hadn’t been fighting long when a slicing hex caught her diagonally across her neck and upper chest, nicking her carotid artery. She knew the worst possible thing to do midair was panic, but with blood spurting from her neck in time with her hammering pulse, she lost her grip on her broomstick and plummeted to the earth. She passed out before Ginny swooped close enough to partially break her fall by casting a spell to slow her descent speed. The fall uninhibited would’ve killed her, but as it was, she hit the ground and cracked her skull on a rock, delivering a major concussion. It was a miracle she was alive, honestly.
That’s why she stirred two days later feeling like complete and utter shite. Tucked into a hospital bed and looking small and frail in a white hospital gown (a far cry from the dark color wearing badarse vibes she’d always tried to exude), the long red scar jagged and permanent but fully healed crossing her neck and disappearing beneath the soft garment’s neckline. It felt like the hangover from hell but worse when the prickles of consciousness pulled her from the deep, groaning and squinting hard as she attempted to blink her eyes open to small slits, the light somehow making her head pound even harder. “Wha… th'fuck…” She winced when she tried moving, her entire body protesting, still shellshocked from the fall.