Vesper Lynd (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bitteraftertaste) wrote2013-11-14 11:59 am
bitteraftertaste) wrote2013-11-14 11:59 am
eighteen ♥ spam/voice
[Spam for Bond]
[She feels like she hates this place even more with each passing day she spends here, and there's a part of her that she can't even call selfish that wants to insist they leave as soon as he wakes up. It's killing him to be here, even if he can't see it himself, and she can't sit here and watch it happen anymore, not after this.
She'd been surprised when Nathan found her, and even more surprised by what he had to say. She'd rushed to the infirmary and been there ever since, sitting in a chair next to James' bed waiting for him to wake up. It's not the first time she's done this, and it probably won't be the last even if they do leave, but this time feels like something's snapped in her, and it leaves her feeling raw and vulnerable, but also somehow resigned. They need to talk about this. She can't keep putting it off.
The hours stretch on, and although she tries to fight it, she eventually falls asleep in the chair she'd pulled up next to his bed, her head pillowed on the mattress near his chest. It's not exactly a comfortable position, but they've established that these beds aren't really meant for two and she wants to be close to him, so this has to be good enough.]
[Public]
[She's realizing the second she opens her mouth that she probably should have made this a text post, because her throat feels constricted and awful, and she's never been one for letting other people see her weakness, or wearing it on her sleeve like a badge of honor.]
James Bond appears to have left the Barge.
[And her voice - controlled and composed as it is, as she tries to force it to be - does wobble, and it's embarrassing, because it's not like she can take it back or pretend like this isn't affecting her the way it is.
There's a long moment where she considers saying something else, opens her mouth and gets ready to phrase it, even, but there's just a soft rush of air which is definitely not leading up to a sob before she clicks off the feed.]
[She feels like she hates this place even more with each passing day she spends here, and there's a part of her that she can't even call selfish that wants to insist they leave as soon as he wakes up. It's killing him to be here, even if he can't see it himself, and she can't sit here and watch it happen anymore, not after this.
She'd been surprised when Nathan found her, and even more surprised by what he had to say. She'd rushed to the infirmary and been there ever since, sitting in a chair next to James' bed waiting for him to wake up. It's not the first time she's done this, and it probably won't be the last even if they do leave, but this time feels like something's snapped in her, and it leaves her feeling raw and vulnerable, but also somehow resigned. They need to talk about this. She can't keep putting it off.
The hours stretch on, and although she tries to fight it, she eventually falls asleep in the chair she'd pulled up next to his bed, her head pillowed on the mattress near his chest. It's not exactly a comfortable position, but they've established that these beds aren't really meant for two and she wants to be close to him, so this has to be good enough.]
[Public]
[She's realizing the second she opens her mouth that she probably should have made this a text post, because her throat feels constricted and awful, and she's never been one for letting other people see her weakness, or wearing it on her sleeve like a badge of honor.]
James Bond appears to have left the Barge.
[And her voice - controlled and composed as it is, as she tries to force it to be - does wobble, and it's embarrassing, because it's not like she can take it back or pretend like this isn't affecting her the way it is.
There's a long moment where she considers saying something else, opens her mouth and gets ready to phrase it, even, but there's just a soft rush of air which is definitely not leading up to a sob before she clicks off the feed.]
no subject