allingoodfun (allingoodfun) wrote in st_margarets, @ 2014-04-07 22:29:00 |
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Current mood: | nauseated |
Narrative: Awakening
WHO: Trent [Narrative]
WHEN: Sunday afternoon, 6th April
WHERE: Infirmary
Dipped under water, head filled with nonsense, stomach in upheavel and body aching. These were some of the truths which faced one Trent Malcolm Kane as he awoke late Sunday afternoon, the light burning his eyes and the sharp tang in the back of his throat from what he could only presume was either bile or blood, he couldn't quite figure out which.
A groan left his lips and he stirred, weakly, uselessly and Trent felt the telltale sensation of frustration creep up on him as his body all but refused to do anything he wanted it to do. His limbs felt heavy, sluggish and he disliked how difficult it was to move his head, focus his gaze or breathe. His neck felt raw, sore and he mumbled a question, frowning when there was no answer.
He tipped his head and blinked blearily, the shade of blue dull and abnormally void of any real vibrancy as his gaze normally was. Even twitching his fingers hurt and his back felt like it had been set on fire, Trent made another pained sound before he felt the cool press of a hand against his forehead.
It was impossible to make out who it was, but Trent stilled his slightly urgent movements left over from his last moments of consciousness before he'd slipped under, submerged and taken away in the current. Sleep, he was being told to sleep and as much as he tried to fight it Trent was unable to battle the undeniable pull as it clawed at the corners of his mind, overwhelming and all consuming.
Fear, panic and all things unpleasant plagued his unsettled dreams, meaning even as he slept Trent was caught up in a recurring nightmare which for the time being he couldn't escape and instead all he could do was run and scramble.
No wonder he hurt.