forwardmomentum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thisavrou_log2015-12-13 12:07 am
forwardmomentum) wrote in thisavrou_log2015-12-13 12:07 am
[ closed ]
Who: Miles and Gregor
When: late 12/9
Where: the Vor boys' cabin/kvortira
What: Miles drags his thawing carcass back to his cabin and runs smack into Gregor. No one is having a good time.
Warnings: talk about dead people, i guess??
Miles feels like absolute hell, and in more ways than one. His recent death and cryorevival had been bad enough, but a few days locked in a corpse freezer with no food or water and Loki for company hasn't done much to improve him. Cúrre treated him comprehensively, of course, keeping him in the medbay until his body temperature improved and he'd had a good IV or two of fluids, but it had come with a stern, cool dressing down. There's something particularly uncomfortable and humiliating about being reprimanded by one's superior officer while you're trapped in a medbay cot.
But the extended stay in the morgue was almost worse than the loss of two ranks and his quasi-probation, reporting only to Cúrre from here on out, except where he reports to Thán in the capacity of Personnel Officer. It'd be impossible to forget what he'd seen, what he and Loki had found -- Captan Típota's body, damaged and discolored as it was, from something that looked like electrical damage...
And yet Captain Cúrre did not seem to suspect that they had seen her body. The cabinet was locked, after all. At any rate, she didn't question either of them about it -- the reprimand, of course, was merely for the violation of trespassing. Miles isn't looking forward to his next meeting with Thán. His MID was hit with a barrage of messages as soon as it regained reception, but he can barely bring himself to look at them yet.
As soon as he can escape the medbay, he does, limping back to Nomo Deck in the feverish hopes of sleeping on a real bed and possibly a shower. Three days in the morgue hadn't exactly left him smelling fresh -- and he looks even worse than he had fresh after cryo, somehow, gone from thin to damn near emaciated, his face tired and gaunt even after the nutrient drip Cúrre had forced him to sit through before she discharged him. He isn't hungry, anyway -- mostly, he just wants to sleep. Maybe he'll wake up and this will all have been a bad fever dream. Ha. Fat chance. Miles is praying the cabin will be empty when he presses his thumb to the pad lock to let himself in and hopefully launch himself directly into bed.
When: late 12/9
Where: the Vor boys' cabin/kvortira
What: Miles drags his thawing carcass back to his cabin and runs smack into Gregor. No one is having a good time.
Warnings: talk about dead people, i guess??
Miles feels like absolute hell, and in more ways than one. His recent death and cryorevival had been bad enough, but a few days locked in a corpse freezer with no food or water and Loki for company hasn't done much to improve him. Cúrre treated him comprehensively, of course, keeping him in the medbay until his body temperature improved and he'd had a good IV or two of fluids, but it had come with a stern, cool dressing down. There's something particularly uncomfortable and humiliating about being reprimanded by one's superior officer while you're trapped in a medbay cot.
But the extended stay in the morgue was almost worse than the loss of two ranks and his quasi-probation, reporting only to Cúrre from here on out, except where he reports to Thán in the capacity of Personnel Officer. It'd be impossible to forget what he'd seen, what he and Loki had found -- Captan Típota's body, damaged and discolored as it was, from something that looked like electrical damage...
And yet Captain Cúrre did not seem to suspect that they had seen her body. The cabinet was locked, after all. At any rate, she didn't question either of them about it -- the reprimand, of course, was merely for the violation of trespassing. Miles isn't looking forward to his next meeting with Thán. His MID was hit with a barrage of messages as soon as it regained reception, but he can barely bring himself to look at them yet.
As soon as he can escape the medbay, he does, limping back to Nomo Deck in the feverish hopes of sleeping on a real bed and possibly a shower. Three days in the morgue hadn't exactly left him smelling fresh -- and he looks even worse than he had fresh after cryo, somehow, gone from thin to damn near emaciated, his face tired and gaunt even after the nutrient drip Cúrre had forced him to sit through before she discharged him. He isn't hungry, anyway -- mostly, he just wants to sleep. Maybe he'll wake up and this will all have been a bad fever dream. Ha. Fat chance. Miles is praying the cabin will be empty when he presses his thumb to the pad lock to let himself in and hopefully launch himself directly into bed.