Hallways always [OPEN]

[vandalization]

who: Vandal and any visitors. [OPEN]
what: Vandal is bed-bound, recovering from her month-long detainment and torture.
when: All this week.
where: The Medbay
warnings: very yes
notes: Tag in your own threads, it can be set during any point in the week.



The beep of the monitors is loud with her head this eerily silent. Whatever he did to her, between the needles and questioning, he separated it. Took something. Now that static in her head is far quieter. It's almost as maddening as when it was present.

Now she's almost lonely without it. Well- she was lonely before, but now even more so.

She doesn't sleep, no. It's not safe to sleep anymore. She wants to scream every time she's left alone, but it's not practical to have someone with her all the time. Prism is dead, the Gatherer is dead, but the way she goes back to that place every time she shuts her eyes.

So she lays in a space between waking and sleep, startling back to consciousness every tie she starts to drift. Shaking. Thinking about it. What it did to her.

She reaches up to smooth a finger over the gauze covering what used to be her right eye.

Ruined. He ruined her worse than the church did. The mental, the physical.

Everything. Ruined.

She wishes they'd have killed her when they found her.

But she's also a coward, and afraid of death, so here she sits and lets the stitches heal.

Comments

[vandalization]

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Vandal mumbles weakly, her one good eye opening just a slit. She's not asleep, not by far.

This one looks like Starscream. And oh how she misses that dick. He was a dick but he cared about her. And... well. Actually not really a dick to her. Not when it mattered most anyways.

"Who're you?" She'd been briefed. Given the names of those who rushed to her rescue. She'd been surprised by how many, actually. It made the fact that she wished they'd have given her a merciful death kind of bitter, actually.

Unfortunately though, she can't really form coherent enough thought to match names to faces quite yet, and the way he's peering down at her of course gets her usual reaction: try to look tough. She's not really got her heart in it though.

Everybody knows how not tough she is now. How vulnerable and weak and pathetic. She wilts in the bed a bit, peering up at him.

[notyourblueangel]

Thundercracker frowns faintly at the first comment – mostly at himself for apparently disturbing her. He probably shouldn't even be here. Not like she had any idea who he was. And the question confirms it. "Name's Thundercracker."

He watches her brace and then relax. He can guess what she was doing . . . and he can empathize. From what little impression he'd gotten of her from others, she'd seemed like such a strong, capable character. He was fairly sure it could be said that she still was. Just not at the moment. But then, who wouldn't be, being in the state she was now and after all she'd been through.

He wouldn't sure he could have survived such horrific treatment.

"Can I get you anything?"

The question surprised him. The offer hadn't occurred to him before he heard it issuing from his vocalizer. It didn't come from pity, though. If anything, it stemmed from respect.

[vandalization]

"Hi, Thundercracker." She looks tiredly up at him, they've never actually met before but she likes most of the mechs she's met, and she makes no judgements about Decepticons.

"No... thank you though." It feels awkward, asking anything of someone you've not met, but he cared enough to be here and that means something.

"What um. I mean... thank you. For visiting."

Honestly she's grateful for any company right now.

[notyourblueangel]

Thundercracker smirks a little. "What am I doing here?" That's a good question, one he's not sure he can answer. He shrugs. "Guess I wanted to see the human everyone's been so worried about." He grimaces at himself a bit, realizing how that probably sounds. He adds, "You have a lot of friends here."