open

[acreage]

WHO: Holden, you!
WHAT: A catch-all for the month(?)
WHEN: After Satinalia and onwards
WHERE: Kirkwall, Gallows
NOTES: There'll be post-murderhaus stuff in here, so there may be references to some of the horror movie occurrences!

Starters will be in the comments! I'm sorry, I'll write a real log one day.

Comments

i'm not sorry.

[innerharbor]

Were you sleeping? That's fine. Sleep it off. Heal. Rest a while. Amos will be waiting when you wake up.

He's leaning slightly forward, expression blank, but those who have studied Amos in close quarters for long can tell something's off. The angle of his shoulders, the shortness of his breath, the stillness of his hands: worry, disappointment, something like that.

He's holding a mug of coffee. "You have fun?"

ಠ_ಠ

[acreage]

Unlike, say, Satinalia, this doesn't come as a surprise. In the chaos of arriving back at the Gallows, he had managed to send a message off to Amos. Just the basics: that he's back, and that he's here in the infirmary, and that he'd be out soon. Carefully left out any level of detail in true James Holden grade bullshittery, as familiar to Amos as his unhappiness is to Holden now.

And it is obvious. Holden wakes up slow, groans (haha, fuck medieval torture instruments actually), drags a hand down his face, and then — focuses on Amos.

"Please tell me that's for me," he says with a nod to the mug, moving to push himself at least partly upright.

[innerharbor]

Amos hands him the coffee silently, staring intently, not moving. The extent to which he is not moving is, perhaps, unnerving, if you're not expecting it. And maybe if you are.

Answer the question, Captain.

[acreage]

He accepts the mug and sighs, holds out long enough to at least enjoy the smell the coffee before answering. He hadn't, as a point of fact, been looking forward to this.

"The mission went fine," he clarifies wearily, before actually explaining with, "but the place where we stayed stopped to sleep was run by a psychopath."

There's a note to his voice, something like: what are the odds? or Apparently that's a danger here, or maybe just I fucking miss space.

the murderhaus-related stuff — ota

[acreage]

infirmary

He's not actually keen on the idea of staying here, but he doesn't, at least, argue. The littering of random shallow cuts pretty much everywhere would be one thing, but the stab wound in his gut requires some care. So in the infirmary he stays, at least in the immediate aftermath of their arrival back at the Gallows. When he's not sleeping it off, he's ready to greet anyone with a smile, offer some conversation, or maybe ask for a book to help pass the time.

kirkwall

Between the care at the infirmary and the help of some magic, he's back on his feet sooner rather than later. Did he ever expect to miss autodocs or the Roci's medbay? No, but here we are. One cool day, he makes his way into the city, maybe moving with more care than usual, or with a bit of a limp, but the important thing is that he can.

What he does, of course, is seek out his favorite coffeeshop, order the strongest thing they have, and finally take a seat once he has a steaming cup in hand.

We all have our means of coping.

wildcard

[ come at me, ask for personalized starters, or w/e! ]

as promised, timewarps to when he first cropped up in the infirmary.

[tender]

"This is a lot of blood," Derrica says, gently enough to avoid alarm. She doesn't sound panicked, though her brow has pinched into a concerned frown as she guides him into more reclined position. "I'm going to cut this shirt open, is that okay?"

It already has a puncture, so he can't be too dismayed about parting with it.

[acreage]

"It was a very large spike," he says dryly, with apparently no such compunctions about gentleness. But he doesn't resist any ministrations, moves as she directs him as best he can. "That's fine."

He is definitely not attached to the shirt, ruined as it is anyway. There'll be evidence of some emergency first aid, fabric repurposed into bandaging — also bloody — wrapped around his midsection.

[tender]

"Tell me what happened?" she prompts, softer as she lays his torso bare and turns her gaze to the makeshift bandages. There's a soft intake of breath as she unwraps them, eyes the stitching. He's very lucky they'd had someone capable of tending to this wound even in this cursory way.

She almost asks: Do you have any idea of how deep this went?

But that's not a helpful question. How could he know? She reaches for the bowl of warm water to try and sponge some of the crusted blood away and get a better sense of the injury.

kirkwall

[noonrodeon]

Noon sees him at the docks, means to wave and carry on with his business, but he pauses when he gets a better look at the man.

"Thought I saw you 'round the Gallows," Noon says, amiably, "But I'd been hopin' to see you better than you are now. You look like shit, friend."

[acreage]

"Yeah," he says, dry, but unoffended. "I noticed."

Still, he pauses to talk, leans his weight against a nearby wall.

"How have you been?"

[noonrodeon]

"Better than you," he says, because far be it from him to belabor a point, "Hard to beat working off a good Satinalia hangover in the library. They feed you while they had you in the healer's care?"

ota insomnia bc i just can't stop

[acreage]

There will be a night, not long after he's technically allowed off bedrest, where he quietly leaves the room and heads outside. He's not headed for anywhere in particular, just walks until he finds a place he can sit in the open air with a good view of the sky.

The nightmare that night actually hadn't been about The Silver Lamp at all; it'd been one he knows better. A thousand solar systems burning to ash, an entire civilization crying out in its death throes, a semi-sentient technology that didn't understand where its creators had gone and barely noticed the human race it'd almost destroyed in its quest for answers.

What he does is sit, hands folded in his lap, and watches the stars, and idly wonders if any one of them might be the road home. It's possible to catch him off-guard, or maybe you don't; and he'll offer a crooked, wry smile, and ask,

"Couldn't sleep?"

[sulahnan]

Athessa doesn't answer his question with words, because just look at her. She's standing next to Holden, wearing a blanket like a wizened old king wears a robe. A joint hangs from her lips, gently smoldering away. And since their return from Ostwick, the dark circles under her eyes have deepened their hue to a very lovely purple.

She fwumphs down beside him and sighs out a fresh cloud of smoke. Offers him the joint.

"Was about to ask you the same thing."

[acreage]

There's a rueful tinge to his expression when he sees her because, yeah, stupid question. He moves a little to make some room for her, waves off her silent offer with one hand and drops it back to his lap with the other. Not unlike the last time they spoke; but the truth is, he gave up trying sleep aids, chemical means to relax, a long time ago.

Instead of answering, he looks up, says, "You have a clear view of the stars here. Not too much light to obscure the sky. Where I come from, the cities are so crowded and lit up, it's hard to see anything even at night."

It'd been one of the first shocks, after leaving Montana, to look up at the sky and find the Milky Way hidden from view.

not sorry for how i am glacially spamming your post

[heorte]

"Guard duty," is the explanation Ellis offers. "I just traded off."

And he hadn't really expected to come across anyone outside since the weather turned. Apart from seeing a few from a distance, the higher arcs of the Gallows tended to be a good place to be alone with one's thoughts.

Not that he minds Holden.

"Does Sister Sara know you're out of bed?"

don't u dare be sorry

[acreage]

He smiles and says, as if conspiratorially, "Not if you don't tell her."

The cant of his head indicates Ellis should take a seat, if he's so inclined. Though if he wanted to get some shut-eye (or privacy) instead, Holden could hardly blame him.

infirmary

[muckspout]

Holden has been here much longer than the rest of them. He will have noticed various items turning up next to his bed every day: maybe a rock, maybe a nice leaf, but no sign of the person leaving them.

After a nap, Edgard will be standing over him, cupping his hands. He looks away, shifting his eyes.

"I-I finally found this for you, but I don't know what to do with them."

[acreage]

The first time, he'd thought it was an accident. Might or might not have annoyed someone working here by assuming it was a misplaced medical...thing.

("What would we do with a rock?" he'd been asked scornfully. Which, fair, but it could be magic or it could be something like the leeches, what does he know.)

By the fourth time, he started to wonder if it was a prank. After a while, he started to decide it probably was deliberate, even if it wasn't clear what the goal was. Still, he doesn't throw any of them away; there starts to be a nice little pile of rocks and things at his bedside. Reminds him a little bit of being a very small boy, bringing rocks and beetles to show Mother Tamara or Mother Elise or Father Tom.

Today, he thinks he was foolish not to consider Edgard earlier. He blinks quizzically, pushing himself into a sitting position and motioning for Edgard to sit.

"What is it?"

[muckspout]

Edgard immediately looks pained when Holden sits up and hisses air through his teeth.

"No, no, do not hurt yourself, I didn't mean to make you move."

He perches next to him, glancing briefly at his wound and then looking away. He brings his hands close to him and inside are coffee beans.

"Not from the ground. A tree!" Edgard cracks a smile and then his face falls back to being etched with worry.

kirkwall

[thereneverwas]

A shadow looms in the doorway of the shop-- but it's a friendly shadow, and sooner than later its owner is seated on a bench near Holden, unshaven and saggy-eyed and looking very much how both of them likely feel.

Barrow raises his cup in greeting, a sad smile crinkling his eyes.

[acreage]

Truthfully, the shop is busy enough that he doesn't immediately clock Barrow's arrival. But he definitely notices when the man sits nearby, offers the silent greeting. He responds in turn, before speaking aloud.

"Good to know I'm not the only regular here."

From, you know, Riftwatch.

[thereneverwas]

"Dunno if I'm a regular," Barrow admits with a little sigh, "but sometimes a fellow's got to get away from the Gallows for his own health."

It really doesn't help that it's called that.

kirkwall!

[highborn]

Holden has company. Vanadi slides into the seat across from him like he was invited, a cup of his own in hand and a polite if appraising smile in place. By way of a greeting, he says, "Should you be out and about?"

[acreage]

"I didn't know you'd joined the infirmary staff," he says over the rim of his cup, but dryly, with no heat to it.

"Actually, I'm now a free man." As he sets his cup down on the table, offers a smile. "How are you?"

[highborn]

As if he would ever have the stomach for infirmary business — he waves it off with a quiet huff.

"Well, but there was little for me to bounce back from." Physically, anyway. He nods to his left forearm, though it's currently hidden under long sleeves, which had sported bloody bandages for a while. "A bit of healing magic, a few nights of sleep, and I'm fine. You, on the other hand, I understand became our standard for rating relative injuries."

Or maybe that was just him and Ellis.