Byrne Faraday (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
corvus_veritas) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_city2012-11-20 10:03 am
corvus_veritas) wrote in damned_city2012-11-20 10:03 am
Entry tags:
Day 67: Afternoon, Farwell
Who: Byrne Faraday
Where: Section 4, Old Courthouse
Summary: Byrne has been drifting in and out of sleep all day. Perhaps that's for the better, though.
**Note: this is a closed log.
...This had to be the third (fourth? fifth?) time Byrne found himself groggily opening his eyes, the metaphorical gears in his head slowly turning again, the same questions running through his mind as he struggled to become aware of what was going on. Again.
The ceiling...was it the same one as before? Hmmmm...yep. Yep, same ceiling. Same uncomfortable cot. Same room. Same place.
Still in Farwell. Still half dead. Wonderful.
If he had been more mentally aware and less focused on the throbbing pain in his gut, he would have remarked on how incredible it was to wake up somewhere after dawn that wasn't the Institute for the first time in two weeks. Right now, though, his reactions were limited to quiet swears under his breath thanks to lingering pains that became sharp and unbearable at even the slightest movement. Ow. Shit.
That wasn't the only thing worth words Kay should never hear, however. Byrne had noticed something up with his right eye when he'd first woken up in this place, but he'd chosen to ignore it with the hope that it would pass after sleeping. (Not to mention, there were other, far more important things to focus on at the time - like meeting the rebels and finding out where he was, for starters.) Second time he was awake, it was morning. He'd put a hand over his face and was only able to see part of his fingers. It was like someone had put a patch over his eye; he could still blink and feel the eyeball moving, but there was nothing to see out of it but blackness. Disconcerting? Barely described the feeling.
However many other times Byrne had repeated the cycle of sleep for a few hours and then wake up confused and disoriented, it was always the same. And it was still the same now. At this point, he might as well not deny the truth. Somehow, some way, he'd lost sight in that eye. Obviously, the fact didn't make him happy in the slightest.
The thought that he kind of deserved it for being so trusting wasn't helping matters, either.
At least he had other things to distract him from the fact that was pretty much half blind now. Like his wonderful shotgun wound that was keeping him bedridden all day. What was the proper response to this again? Oh, yeah. SHIT.
Siiigh. Byrne could only close his eyes and lie as still as possible once again, his thoughts drifting to better times as he let himself repeat the sleep-awake cycle another time. Hopefully he'd be feeling better by tomorrow...or even by tonight. That'd be good...
Where: Section 4, Old Courthouse
Summary: Byrne has been drifting in and out of sleep all day. Perhaps that's for the better, though.
**Note: this is a closed log.
...This had to be the third (fourth? fifth?) time Byrne found himself groggily opening his eyes, the metaphorical gears in his head slowly turning again, the same questions running through his mind as he struggled to become aware of what was going on. Again.
The ceiling...was it the same one as before? Hmmmm...yep. Yep, same ceiling. Same uncomfortable cot. Same room. Same place.
Still in Farwell. Still half dead. Wonderful.
If he had been more mentally aware and less focused on the throbbing pain in his gut, he would have remarked on how incredible it was to wake up somewhere after dawn that wasn't the Institute for the first time in two weeks. Right now, though, his reactions were limited to quiet swears under his breath thanks to lingering pains that became sharp and unbearable at even the slightest movement. Ow. Shit.
That wasn't the only thing worth words Kay should never hear, however. Byrne had noticed something up with his right eye when he'd first woken up in this place, but he'd chosen to ignore it with the hope that it would pass after sleeping. (Not to mention, there were other, far more important things to focus on at the time - like meeting the rebels and finding out where he was, for starters.) Second time he was awake, it was morning. He'd put a hand over his face and was only able to see part of his fingers. It was like someone had put a patch over his eye; he could still blink and feel the eyeball moving, but there was nothing to see out of it but blackness. Disconcerting? Barely described the feeling.
However many other times Byrne had repeated the cycle of sleep for a few hours and then wake up confused and disoriented, it was always the same. And it was still the same now. At this point, he might as well not deny the truth. Somehow, some way, he'd lost sight in that eye. Obviously, the fact didn't make him happy in the slightest.
The thought that he kind of deserved it for being so trusting wasn't helping matters, either.
At least he had other things to distract him from the fact that was pretty much half blind now. Like his wonderful shotgun wound that was keeping him bedridden all day. What was the proper response to this again? Oh, yeah. SHIT.
Siiigh. Byrne could only close his eyes and lie as still as possible once again, his thoughts drifting to better times as he let himself repeat the sleep-awake cycle another time. Hopefully he'd be feeling better by tomorrow...or even by tonight. That'd be good...