#empath problems (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dragony) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2014-07-06 07:32 pm
dragony) wrote in maskormenacelogs2014-07-06 07:32 pm
Entry tags:
shatter every false impression
who: Ruka & Miles
where: Cape Canaveral Hospital
when: Some time after this.
what: When your first in-person meeting was as bad as "girl who is convinced she's a murderer and man who is convinced she's not argue about it," the second meeting can't possibly be much worse. R...ight... no this is going to be a travesty.
warnings: Emotions are a serious problem afflicting millions of Americans every year.
It's just a small breather. A break, Ruka tells herself, with fingers against her carotid artery and the rapid pace of her own heart like artillery fire under her skin and in her ears. A chance to catch her breath. That's all.
On the one hand, she's glad that nobody ever takes the stairs, even in such a busy building as Cape Canaveral's general hospital, so she doesn't have to worry about blocking anybody's passage while she recovers. On the other hand, if she took the elevator like literally everyone else, she wouldn't be half so winded as this. A trip starting on the first floor, ascending to the third, returning to the first, and climbing once more to the fifth floor of the building, to eventually be followed by another back to the ground floor... it's a great deal more work than she anticipated. True, the segregation of departments makes perfect sense to her; it's merely inconvenient, when one cannot take the easy way of things. If it had been one trip each way, she would be fine, she thinks, but back and forth so many times... it's getting too much for her heart to handle.
So, a breather. A rest, leaning against the wall of the stairwell, somewhere between the third and fourth floors (or is it only second and third? She hasn't kept track well enough to be certain). When it doesn't feel like the organ will simply force its way out of her ribcage, she'll ascend the final two or three floors, pick up the prescription she needs, and then allow gravity to take away some of the burden for that five-flight descent. She'll be fine enough in a few minutes.
And if not, well... if there's any place to fall into cardiac arrest, it's hard to find a location more convenient than the middle of a hospital.
where: Cape Canaveral Hospital
when: Some time after this.
what: When your first in-person meeting was as bad as "girl who is convinced she's a murderer and man who is convinced she's not argue about it," the second meeting can't possibly be much worse. R...ight... no this is going to be a travesty.
warnings: Emotions are a serious problem afflicting millions of Americans every year.
It's just a small breather. A break, Ruka tells herself, with fingers against her carotid artery and the rapid pace of her own heart like artillery fire under her skin and in her ears. A chance to catch her breath. That's all.
On the one hand, she's glad that nobody ever takes the stairs, even in such a busy building as Cape Canaveral's general hospital, so she doesn't have to worry about blocking anybody's passage while she recovers. On the other hand, if she took the elevator like literally everyone else, she wouldn't be half so winded as this. A trip starting on the first floor, ascending to the third, returning to the first, and climbing once more to the fifth floor of the building, to eventually be followed by another back to the ground floor... it's a great deal more work than she anticipated. True, the segregation of departments makes perfect sense to her; it's merely inconvenient, when one cannot take the easy way of things. If it had been one trip each way, she would be fine, she thinks, but back and forth so many times... it's getting too much for her heart to handle.
So, a breather. A rest, leaning against the wall of the stairwell, somewhere between the third and fourth floors (or is it only second and third? She hasn't kept track well enough to be certain). When it doesn't feel like the organ will simply force its way out of her ribcage, she'll ascend the final two or three floors, pick up the prescription she needs, and then allow gravity to take away some of the burden for that five-flight descent. She'll be fine enough in a few minutes.
And if not, well... if there's any place to fall into cardiac arrest, it's hard to find a location more convenient than the middle of a hospital.
no subject
Most days, that's just enough to cause him a bit of frustration, perhaps enough to make him roll his eyes. Today, though - today, it's enough to make him scream. It's enough to make him feel like he ought to just let his knees fold in so that he can fall down the stairs and bring an end to it all. This isn't a superpower, it's a damned curse, and there's no help for it; three people, now, three people he's hurt; would that he could cut off his hand before hurting another, would that he could cut off his head - He just wants it to stop -
He clatters down another flight of stairs. Rounds the corner; someone's sitting there. Normally, he'd stop and offer help, but like this he's afraid he'd destroy them. They're breathing and alive, conscious, not in pain; that's enough; he's not going to disturb her. He's just going to leave her be. Better for her that way.
So he doesn't even speak to her. Instead, he just pushes past, not making eye contact, steering as clear as possible; his foot (shod) brushes for a fraction of a second against hers (likewise shod), but that shouldn't be enough to do damage.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
these keep getting longer im gomen
i love you
hides face