Karrie (Vandal) Norton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vandalization) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
re_alignment_logs2012-09-08 11:59 pm
vandalization) wrote in re_alignment_logs2012-09-08 11:59 pm
The Pills Won't Help You Now [OPEN]
WHO: Vandal + OPEN to visitors.
WHERE: Medbay | Solus Temple
WHEN: A day after her Big Freakout.
WHAT: Visits and explanations.
WARNINGS: Vandal...
Have some mood music.
Whatever Soundwave had done to her, it had landed just about passed her into another plain of existence for a while.
A dreamless sleep, something she hadn't felt in a while. No screeching static, nothing running at her, needles for arms, drooling puss and stale blood with nothing more than the desire to rip her open.
Just darkness.
And when she wakes, she's alone.
Someone has her stereo system turned on, and soft, crackly music is playing.
Her RIG, bundled in a corner.
When she moves, she finds her arm stinging. Bandaged. She doesn't remember getting hurt, but she remembers being there again. Back on the station. Everything turning to shit. It's been getting worse. Something she was previously able to stave off with a precarious mixture of pills and alcohol, but eventually those weren't even able to dull that whispering. The words that were always just too quiet to make out. Or overlaid with so much static that even when they were screaming she couldn't understand.
She sighs.
She lays back, staring at the ceiling.
Her head is suspiciously quiet.
Karrie could just get up, gather her things and leave, but where would she go? "Home"? She has no real home. She was just fooling herself.
So instead, she stares up and the ceiling and waits, listening to the distant music and the passive sounds of the monitors.
WHERE: Medbay | Solus Temple
WHEN: A day after her Big Freakout.
WHAT: Visits and explanations.
WARNINGS: Vandal...
Have some mood music.
Whatever Soundwave had done to her, it had landed just about passed her into another plain of existence for a while.
A dreamless sleep, something she hadn't felt in a while. No screeching static, nothing running at her, needles for arms, drooling puss and stale blood with nothing more than the desire to rip her open.
Just darkness.
And when she wakes, she's alone.
Someone has her stereo system turned on, and soft, crackly music is playing.
Her RIG, bundled in a corner.
When she moves, she finds her arm stinging. Bandaged. She doesn't remember getting hurt, but she remembers being there again. Back on the station. Everything turning to shit. It's been getting worse. Something she was previously able to stave off with a precarious mixture of pills and alcohol, but eventually those weren't even able to dull that whispering. The words that were always just too quiet to make out. Or overlaid with so much static that even when they were screaming she couldn't understand.
She sighs.
She lays back, staring at the ceiling.
Her head is suspiciously quiet.
Karrie could just get up, gather her things and leave, but where would she go? "Home"? She has no real home. She was just fooling herself.
So instead, she stares up and the ceiling and waits, listening to the distant music and the passive sounds of the monitors.