![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
open
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!
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.
no subject
"No," admitted, as he gingerly pulls the shirt's hem over his midsection.
no subject
"Is there some medicine you need?" is the next question, asked very softly. It narrowly beats out: Are you ill? But it needs to be asked. How can they do anything for him if they don't talk of it?
no subject
"I've been taking something since an accident a few years ago." Not daily, luckily, or he'd be well and truly fucked by now. "Nothing you'd have on hand here."
Of that, he's positive. Science and tech, medicine, in Thedas is in the dark ages when compared to his universe's baseline.
He shrugs, smiles faintly, and concludes, "It's fine."
Maybe the lyrium luminescence means his implant will power itself; maybe it doesn't. Frankly: either the radiation damage'll kill him or it won't, and that's always been the case since Eros. He'll know soon enough.
my extreme lol
Silently, Derrica reaches over to take his hand. There are traces of his blood on her skin, smudging slightly as she laces her fingers through his. It's an unspoken expression of comfort, and the fierceness of her grip marks out just how unwilling she is to turn away from whatever it is he isn't telling her. Maybe she won't press him now, but it's only because he only recently had a massive stomach wound.
"We'll figure it out," she says, softly. "Riftwatch has a lot of people who know so much more than I do. So don't worry yet, alright?"
winks
There's no Rocinante in Thedas, in the Gallows, and the title is functionally meaningless. Except: he worries about Amos, his well-being, keeping him safe, making the best decisions while they're both here. He worries about Naomi, and about Alex, and whatever it is that they may be dealing with, whether or not they're even experiencing Holden's and Amos's absences. He worries about the unsteady peace in their system, Cortazar and the sample of protomolecule, the protomolecule-killing tech on Ilus and the beings that made them. He worries about the people he knows here. The others who were on this mission, wounded physically and mentally, the friends he's been starting to make, the mistreatment of whose who aren't human, who have magic, the looming threat of Corypheus and more.
The uncertainty of his own condition is, too, a buzz in the back of his mind. But it slides down the list, past these more pressing concerns.
He gives her hand a squeeze, cants his head, smiles a little lopsidedly. Says, "Me, worry?"
no subject
That's a shared trait, Derrica thinks. For better or for worse, she recognizes that habit in him that she's so prone to. Her hand tightens on his.
"Worry less," she amends. "And get some sleep. We can figure the rest of this out tomorrow."
no subject
And with that said, he'll gently slip his hand free.
"The others'll also need looking after."
As in, infirmary staff might be kind of busy with the lot of them, in these next few days. She doesn't need the reminder, but he can't help himself.
"But try not to work yourself too hard."
gently ties bow on this thread.
In case Holden had any misconceptions that he's now off the hook. But Derrica parting smile is very kind, before she leaves him be.