[syn] Who: Isabel Lagerkvist + Anyone! What: Just meandering about with only half her brain present. When: Early evening of Tuesday, January 07 Where: Seagram Gym Rating: tbd Status: tbd
At 4 o'clock in the morning, Isa woke up in a cold sweat when she thought she'd lost her fingers and arm to Cistron Inc.
That was the last time she ever tried to sleep again. After a brief panic attack, Isa took a cold shower and climbed up to the rooftop with a cup of double shot espresso and her laptop to keep her company. Netflix was on her mind, a better alternative than calling her father in the fringes of dawn and crying to him although Lord knew how many times she almost sobbed as she started a number of texts pleading for comfort.
At 7:00 in the morning, she closed her laptop halfway into Before Midnight, went back down to her bedroom to clean up a bit, dress up for the day and went to work. Everything passed her in a blur, though. Greetings were acknowledged two beats too late, several coffee cups had gone cold before she remembered she made them exist (an alarming development for the Swede) and the only real accomplishment she could claim for the day was cleaning up her desk and rearranging her furniture. By the time 5 o'clock rang in, Isa felt as if she'd never gone to the office at all.
The dream still clung to the base of her mind, as did Graham Stokes' images, Ian's reports...and all the other mutants who slipped from their fingers and went to Cistron's. She moved from Willowbrook to the Syndicate exactly to put an end to this kind of cruelty but she never for once expected for it to get this far. And every time she remembered the photographs she held in her hands, she felt her stomach curdling with acid. Before she could throw up what little she forced through her mouth, though, Isa sought for a distraction.
That was what brought her to the treadmill after work, dressed in a simple white loose top over a long black top, blue trainers and hot pink joggers striped with a neon green design. Isa plugged herself to her iPod, listening to some of the bands she loved as a child in London and Sweden. But with her lack of sleep, she tired easily and stepped off the machine not half an hour into it.
Isa was frustrated with herself. She was hungry but couldn't eat, tired but couldn't sleep. With a sour frown on her face, she dumped her towel on her gym bag by the corner of a wall and then herself right beside it.