log | ongoing | [semi] open

[stacked]

When; early Wednesday morning, after Sylar lays a smackdown
Rating; I can't imagine it would creep above PG-13 for language.
Characters; Faith Lehane [thesecondslayer] and Lorne [deformiwhats]; also, anyone who would logically visit Faith in the hospital (for visit, read: come to call a dumbass, mostly) or be in charge of her care. (Sup Chase.)
Summary; And when you can't crawl, you get someone to carry you.
Log;

The beep and click of machines, the sterile smell and the blinding white of the walls are like something out of Faith's worst nightmares. She's bloody and pale against itchy sheets again; small and broken and delicate-looking like she never is when she can move.

Lorne sits vigil by her bedside, occasionally reaches over to stoke her hand and mutter nonsense words of comfort when she whimpers, strains against whatever's holding her, wherever she's disappeared to. They've done this before, too.

[ ooc: Opening on Lorne and an unconscious Faith; threads can take place later and with different people as we need. LET'S GO. ]

Comments

[stacked]

This is why Faith doesn't do friends, not in the bullshit Lifetime movie ways. (Well, that and she's a violent antisocial freak with control and attachment issues.) Slayers die, it's what they're all best at. Nobody to leave behind means she's just better at her job, is all. And people caring about her only means people leaving.

"Heard that one before, too." But she falls silent, leaning back into the pillows with a soft, pained grunt. Whatever painkillers they have her on are not cutting it, and she can't wait to get home and grab a bottle of Jack.

[thenormalsquint]

Whether or not Faith does friends is of no importance to Angela. Anybody--barring them being Sylar--needs somebody in their life, whether it's to post bail or keep vigil next to a hospital bed. And she's not planning on leaving anytime, so right now, unless Faith can run on those injured feet of hers, she's stuck with Angela.

All this time, since she'd walked into the hospital's gift shop, Angela's been holding a small stuffed dog, an eerie likeness to Faith's actual Dog. The doll does a little dance on the bedside table, coming to a stop center stage. "I have real thing with me. You don't have to worry about him, just about getting well."