InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Little of life goes as planned"

Dick Grayson is just wingin it (nightwingingit) wrote in wariscoming,
@ 2011-04-17 19:53:00

Entry tags:

allana solo, kon-el/superboy

Who: Kon, Allana, Cade, Clark, basically anyone at Cades house!
What: stupid boy was stupid and did not go to the doctor.
When: Tonight.
Where:Cade's house.
Warnings: TBA!

Kon had so many worries for a kid his age. Add ontop of that a trip to the doctor he wasn't supposed to visit, and he was a virtual wreck. Fortunately he didn't have very long to panic and run away. The poison in his system had been there over night, festering and causing all kinds of problems internally. Kon had been unaware. He told Clark he didn't bleed very much, and it was true. By the time he, Allana, and Burt had gone their separate ways at the complex the wound he'd received was already healed and gone. He took it as a sign and shrugged it off. Only when he'd gotten into his apartment did he realize that his jacket was stained in blood. It was odd and a little worrisome, but Clark had told him the wound was gone. It should be fine. He'd gone to sleep thinking he'd wake up rested and strong in the morning. It was completely the opposite.

When he woke up in said morning everything was hazy. Opening his eyes had been a daunting task. Staying awake for Clark and Allana was next to impossible and eventually he caved to the sleep that threatened. He slept the entire flight to Cade's, and then even longer while the healing process went on. It was nearly midnight when his eyes finally opened and he got a blurry look at his new surroundings. The last thing he remembered was face planting the keyboard but his computer wasn't near by. He shifted and stirred, his hand reaching to attempt to scrub the sleep from his eyes.

He was disoriented and his body felt like a brick. Kon wasn't the type to be slow and sluggish, as he constantly reminded Allana. His super speed was a prized attribute to him. The fact that he felt like he couldn't even move his arm was troubling. His adrenaline shifted into high gear and he attempted to sit up. The world around him spun out and protested.

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sanguinesolo
2011-04-25 12:15 am UTC (link)

Allana was still glaring, arms crossed and lips thinned slightly, as she enacted her best combined imitation of Leia Solo and Tenel Ka Djo, her mouth twisted to the side to stop herself from speaking in a more unconscious imitation of Jaina when she was trying, for once, to hold back a bit of sarcasm. It was an expression that, back in her own reality, Han Solo had informed his wife proudly, was “shaping up to be a Solo-worthy glare.” She gave it her full concentration now, except for the space in her mind that was occupied with thinking up new retorts to his confused muttering. After all, the angrier she was the less she noticed the way her usually cocky friend was too exhausted to come up with any kind of defense or even move very quickly, the way he didn’t even seem awake enough to care about his rather pathetic retorts even though the poison was gone.

Unfortunately, Jedi were trained to recognize their emotions, to control and to deal with them. She might be angry that Kon had been foolish enough not to tell anyone he was feeling the effects of the poison until it had come close to being too late, but she couldn’t pretend anger was all it was. Her expression softened infinitesimally, the corners of her mouth drawing down slightly and her eyes dropping to her own hands so that she looked more stern than furious. I am not scared, she told herself, I am mad. Not mad that he scared me. Mad that he is a moron.

“It better not happen again,” she muttered in response to his apology, “and if anything like this ever does happen again you will tell someone instead of ignoring it until you’re an unconscious pile of stupid.” Her tone made it clear he wasn’t out of the doghouse, so to speak, quite yet but when he winced she reached out without hesitation and laid her fingertips gently on his temple. He was resistant to mind control, she knew that, and so she didn’t try to mind trick him or press him back into sleep but concentrated on the healing part of the Force to sooth some of the pain. Healing had never been her forte as it required too much patience, too much precise knowledge, and too much time to second guess yourself unless you had one of those natural, intensely powerful talents like Cade’s, but the light side of the Force was encouraged by feelings of protectiveness and by good intentions. It could be easier, sometimes, to heal a friend.

“You deserve the headache you know,” she informed him, trying to keep up the sternness, “you’re lucky I’m supposed to get some practice in on pain relief.”

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