Bruce Banner (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hyperkinesia) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2015-12-23 08:27 pm
hyperkinesia) wrote in thisavrou_log2015-12-23 08:27 pm
( closed ) my body is a cage
Who: Bruce Banner and Miles Vorkosigan
When: After the Ploiatus event, some day when Miles is on duty
Where: The kitchen
What: Bruce goes in search of some tea, gets more than what he wanted.
Warnings: Probably some angst and drama, depends on how Miles reacts to finally meeting Bruce face to face. Will update if necessary!
There's precious little on the ship that Bruce appreciates right now, but he clings to those things as much as he can, especially now. Recovery is a very slow process, more so when every day he's crossing paths with people who constantly remind him of what happened in Caducus. The memories are there, in his head, things seen through his eyes even though they weren't his own, and they're not something he manages to forget.
Sometimes flashes of those memories match the faces he sees, even when he hasn't spoken to those people before. He's been confronted, asked why he did it, had to explain the whole thing time and again, but he doesn't complain. It's the least he can do, all things considered. If anything, he's lucky that people haven't decided to throw him back into that cage and locked him up there for however long he happens to remain on board.
Or that they even let him stay on board to begin with.
The more recent events have drawn attention away from him a little, at least. Not that he's happy for it, knowing what's been happening to so many people on the ship, nor does it mean he's gotten much of a break himself, considering he got touched by that creature, and is currently sporting those black veins going up his left arm, drawing up the side of his neck and poking out of his shirt's collar. He tries to ignore them the best as he can, even if his hand sometimes reaches up to cup the side of his neck, where he knows the mark shows.
That's what he's doing as he steps into the kitchen, looking around for someone on duty at the time. He sees the man there, but his face isn't one of those that spark his memory, so he's not quite so tense or hesitant when he speaks up, addressing him.
"Sorry, is there any tea here? Ran out of bags on the mess hall." One of the things he dearly appreciates, and usually there's some in hand next to a boiler, but he does know there's usually more stocked up in the kitchen. He hopes so, at least.
When: After the Ploiatus event, some day when Miles is on duty
Where: The kitchen
What: Bruce goes in search of some tea, gets more than what he wanted.
Warnings: Probably some angst and drama, depends on how Miles reacts to finally meeting Bruce face to face. Will update if necessary!
There's precious little on the ship that Bruce appreciates right now, but he clings to those things as much as he can, especially now. Recovery is a very slow process, more so when every day he's crossing paths with people who constantly remind him of what happened in Caducus. The memories are there, in his head, things seen through his eyes even though they weren't his own, and they're not something he manages to forget.
Sometimes flashes of those memories match the faces he sees, even when he hasn't spoken to those people before. He's been confronted, asked why he did it, had to explain the whole thing time and again, but he doesn't complain. It's the least he can do, all things considered. If anything, he's lucky that people haven't decided to throw him back into that cage and locked him up there for however long he happens to remain on board.
Or that they even let him stay on board to begin with.
The more recent events have drawn attention away from him a little, at least. Not that he's happy for it, knowing what's been happening to so many people on the ship, nor does it mean he's gotten much of a break himself, considering he got touched by that creature, and is currently sporting those black veins going up his left arm, drawing up the side of his neck and poking out of his shirt's collar. He tries to ignore them the best as he can, even if his hand sometimes reaches up to cup the side of his neck, where he knows the mark shows.
That's what he's doing as he steps into the kitchen, looking around for someone on duty at the time. He sees the man there, but his face isn't one of those that spark his memory, so he's not quite so tense or hesitant when he speaks up, addressing him.
"Sorry, is there any tea here? Ran out of bags on the mess hall." One of the things he dearly appreciates, and usually there's some in hand next to a boiler, but he does know there's usually more stocked up in the kitchen. He hopes so, at least.