Mαɾɠαҽɾყ Tყɾҽʅʅ (
thekittenqueen) wrote in
sixthiterationlogs2017-02-12 11:05 am
It Comes Crashing Down
WHO: Margaery Tyrell
WHERE: Bungalows #58, #4
WHEN: Feb 12th
OPEN TO: Logan, All
WARNINGS: Injuries, the fallout from being struck by lightening
STATUS: Open during the aftermath
I. [Closed to Logan]
Despite the danger of the lightening storm, there were some things that required Margaery to venture from her home. She was careful to keep the animals indoors, but needed to feed them and look after her pregnant cow. It was only after ensuring that her animals were safe that she returned home to weave and sew. She could at least do these chores safely inside. The growing number of injuries and damage to homes had made her wary, enough that she took care with what would pull her outside.
Seeing Logan was likely unwise, but she had wanted to make a gift of a blanket to him. Her weaving had improved and she had hoped to show him her latest creation. It was a flimsy reason to visit him, but one that encouraged her to step outside.
As she neared Bungalow 58, she could feel a tension appear in the air. There was a buzzing against her ear, a small crackle that disturbed the otherwise quiet day. Her body felt as though it were tingling, her hair suddenly standing on end. She hurried her steps, feeling her heart skip a beat. His steps were so near, only a few feet away. But before she could reach safety, there was a sudden CRACK and she collapsed to the ground. Her body felt as though it were on fire, sending her back to the moment that the Sept had erupted in a green light. Sound disappeared; she knew that she had screamed but couldn't hear herself. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest, leaving her struggling for breath.
There was someone beside her but she couldn't see, only a vague outline of a figure.
II. [Open]
She had been seen and received treatment. While the injuries were minor, her mind still whirred, raising anxiety in her. The burns hadn't been severe, but they left her trembling and afraid. She kept her mind from drifting back to Westeros, focused on every small detail of her room. The feel of her mattress beneath her, the cold in the air and the sound of the bungalow settling.
It took a great deal for her to remain in bed. Gilbert rested at her side, his soft fur a sweet balm to her burned skin. Finally her heart had settled in her chest and she could breathe once more. Her eyes trailed over her room, bored and restless.
She wouldn't remain in bed for long, not if she had her way.
WHERE: Bungalows #58, #4
WHEN: Feb 12th
OPEN TO: Logan, All
WARNINGS: Injuries, the fallout from being struck by lightening
STATUS: Open during the aftermath
I. [Closed to Logan]
Despite the danger of the lightening storm, there were some things that required Margaery to venture from her home. She was careful to keep the animals indoors, but needed to feed them and look after her pregnant cow. It was only after ensuring that her animals were safe that she returned home to weave and sew. She could at least do these chores safely inside. The growing number of injuries and damage to homes had made her wary, enough that she took care with what would pull her outside.
Seeing Logan was likely unwise, but she had wanted to make a gift of a blanket to him. Her weaving had improved and she had hoped to show him her latest creation. It was a flimsy reason to visit him, but one that encouraged her to step outside.
As she neared Bungalow 58, she could feel a tension appear in the air. There was a buzzing against her ear, a small crackle that disturbed the otherwise quiet day. Her body felt as though it were tingling, her hair suddenly standing on end. She hurried her steps, feeling her heart skip a beat. His steps were so near, only a few feet away. But before she could reach safety, there was a sudden CRACK and she collapsed to the ground. Her body felt as though it were on fire, sending her back to the moment that the Sept had erupted in a green light. Sound disappeared; she knew that she had screamed but couldn't hear herself. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest, leaving her struggling for breath.
There was someone beside her but she couldn't see, only a vague outline of a figure.
II. [Open]
She had been seen and received treatment. While the injuries were minor, her mind still whirred, raising anxiety in her. The burns hadn't been severe, but they left her trembling and afraid. She kept her mind from drifting back to Westeros, focused on every small detail of her room. The feel of her mattress beneath her, the cold in the air and the sound of the bungalow settling.
It took a great deal for her to remain in bed. Gilbert rested at her side, his soft fur a sweet balm to her burned skin. Finally her heart had settled in her chest and she could breathe once more. Her eyes trailed over her room, bored and restless.
She wouldn't remain in bed for long, not if she had her way.

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He comes, not empty handed, with some of the sweets from the box. It's only a couple of lollipops, but still, as he settles down beside her bed, he offers one to her. "Best medicine," he says jokingly.
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The lollipop looked as sweet as the chocolate.
Even without the treat, she was pleased to receive a visitor. "I was told that I look worse than I really am. Only a few minor burns."
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He trusts the others, here, but wants to make sure he knows who it is, in case he needs to go ask more questions later.
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"One of the physicians." It at least wasn't someone with basic first aid. "The same that have been looking after everyone unfortunate to be hit by the storm." She met his eyes in concern. "What do you think is causing this?"
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"I don't know," he admits, because it's honest. Lightning strikes happen all the time, but they're grounded in things. This is like it's seeking out people, like it's testing them. Why do some survive? Why did the one die? "Maybe it's a test, too." Like everything else, but a test for what? He doesn't know.
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"Similar to that creature?" Things were becoming stranger and less explainable. "There is something about this place. I didn't believe it before, but now I see it. The landscape shifting, that creature, the earthquakes, now this lightening. It seemed so impossible, but what if there is someone behind it?"
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It's crazy, but at the same time, what else makes sense? God himself? Maybe in the Old Testament, but still, what are their sins?
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It seemed like his question was made in jest. She knew him and his sense of humor, but there was a measure of truth and wonder in it all. Had they angered some higher being?
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"How do you feel?"
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Immediately he got up and instead of look out the window, Logan went straight for the door. As soon as the form of someone on the ground was seen, he wasted no time moving to her side. Eyes widened when he realised who it was.
"Margaery," Logan said, fingers sliding across to the pulse point in her neck. "Margaery, can you hear me?"
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"Logan?" She couldn't hear him. Rubbing her ears, she looked around, dazed and woozy. The world was muted and hazy and, for some reason, she couldn't remember why she was on the ground or burned.
There was a blanket beside her, the edges singed and smelling like burnt wool. "I...I was bringing you this."
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"Yeah?" Logan half answered in regards to the blanket before deciding to use it for her. "I don't mind if you use if for a bit."
Margaery was breathing and though her pulse was quick, he decided she wasn't too badly off. Shock was the only worry now.
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Then all at once, her skin ached with a familiar heat. Looking down at her arms, she saw the burn marks and felt panic bubble up from her throat.
She bit her lip fiercely, drawing blood as she tried to keep from screaming or whimpering. Flashes of green flame dancing before her eyes. "Please. I need to leave. Take me home."
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"Hey, Margaery, look at me. Wherever you think you are, you're not. I'll take you home but I need to know where home is first. What's the house number?"
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"Number four." She managed to push out, forcing her mind to focus.
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Gently he slipped an arm under her back and then the other under her legs and hoisted her up slowly with not even a sound of exertion. Despite his powers being dulled, he was still a strong man.
The trip took a bit longer than it should, but only because he didn't want the gentle bounce of his stride to put her into any more pain than she was. Every dozen or so feet, Logan glanced down to check on her.
"Thanks," he said without context, at first, as they approached the house.
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The way home had seemed longer than normal. There was pain shooting through her arms and her heart still felt as though it were fluttering in her chest. Her breath felt short and hurried, as though she were still unable to catch it. Yet he had not contributed to any of that. His steps were smooth, hardly jostling her. It was almost as though she were floating, which sometimes she felt she was.
She drifted in and out of consciousness until he spoke to her, pulling her back to her surroundings. The pain faded in once more, causing her to wince under the minor burns.
"Why do you thank me?" She should thank him.
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She's horrified, though, to hear that Margaery's also been hit by lightning; it leaves her at a loss for a long hour or two, uncertain what she can do about the situation. Going to the room she's using as a cold cupboard, she finds the cauldron of chocolate that she and Veronica had pilfered months ago, frozen solid. Letting a few pieces thaw, she puts them into a small bowl and wraps them in paper, then heads over to the bungalow where Margaery stays.
Knocking softly, she calls out, "Hello, Margaery? Can I come in? You don't need to get up or anything."
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The quiet had been grating at first, but after living alone, she had become adapted to it. Now, it was simply the having nothing to do. Only when someone visited did she feel actual relief and excitement. It was far better than staring at the wall, as she had been.
"Come in! Please! How are you?" She is desperate for conversation.
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"I'm fine," she says, following Margaery's voice until she's peering around the doorframe into the bedroom. "But I'm not the one who's been hurt, how are you doing?" She's relieved to see that the young woman looks relatively well, if very pale and bandaged and generally exhausted. "I brought you something--not really medicine but it might help you feel a little better."
She steps over to the bed and proffers the bowl of chocolates. "We'd frozen some after the Harvest Festival, I remembered how much you like them."
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She smiled, despite the small wince of pain. It was easier to brush everything aside for politeness, but her friend deserved an honest answer for her obvious concern. "My skin is slightly burned, but not so terribly as others. I feel dizzy and sometimes my hearing fades a little, but I have been told it will pass. My heart rate has returned to normal at least." It had been worrying, but compared to the rest of those effected, she had come out with only minor injuries.
Margaery gave a laugh of delight. "Even since the festival, I have become hopelessly addicted to chocolate. I don't know what I will do when I run out. Thank you, truly." A small beat before, "You have remained safe?"
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She's not going to think about people dying, even if it's a possibility that's very real these days. Not right now.
Nerys clears her throat and adds, "I'm fine. Probably too fine. The worst thing that's happened to me is that I've been befriended by, uh...a..." She searches for the word. "A moose! Have you seen one before? They're huge."
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She knows how deadly these strikes have been, the houses struck and the life that was lost.
Her attention returns to Nerys as she clears her throat, the dark thoughts left behind. "I have!" She laughed. "You are not the only one, it seems. Logan has as well."
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Nerys has been healthy here, except for a mild cold or two. This has her somewhat worried, because there are enough people turning up from enough places that she really should have caught something by now. She does know being stressed about not being sick will only make things worse if she does come down with something, though, so trying not to think about it and washing her hands a lot is the main remedy. "And there's nothing wrong with stitching. You're far better at it than I am," she points out. "Which is useful if people want clothes that don't look like rags."
She stretches out her legs, grateful that her boots are relatively clean and not making a mess in the bedroom so that Margaery might feel obligated to clean. "Is that his name, Logan?" she asks. "He didn't strike me as the kind of guy who liked small talk, so we didn't really get introduced. That and I was...concerned...about the moose."
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"Not nearly as good as I can be." She laughed, holding up her earlier attempts. There were a number of tangles in the thread, but at least it was looking more like an actual rose. "I was never a diligent student, I had other matters holding my attention. At least now, I can practice more."
She smiled, nodding slowly. "Logan, yes. He keeps to himself, it seems, but he can be friendly...with the right incentive. I think that he is naturally suspicious, especially in this place, though that is hardly a surprise."
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