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sixthiterationlogs2017-04-22 05:37 pm
zomboligist) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2017-04-22 05:37 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
WHO: Ravi Chakrabarti
WHERE: Hospital
WHEN: April 22
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: General illness/unhappiness of digestion
STATUS: Open!
Ravi hates everything.
No, that's too kind. Ravi loathes everything with the fires of hell layered upon teenybopper performances and CDC-firing bosses on top of that. Ever since he'd woken up from the morning after the feast, he's felt sort of off. Then, this morning, 'off' became the fiery guts of Dante's circles of hell, at least four through seven. He's trudged to the hospital on the auspices that he might work, but truthfully, as soon as he's arrived, he collapses face down on the nearest bed and manages to groan. Even that ends up hurting his body, peering out through blurry vision at a shape that seems to be coming in the door.
What he hasn't actually noticed is the rash, mainly because he's been so occupied with feeling miserable. He turns onto his back and stares at the too-bright ceiling, squinting as he drapes his arm over his eyes, wishing death upon himself.
"Why?" he complains, searching for something to drink because he doesn't even know what would make him feel better. He doesn't even know what it is, because this has no hallmark of food poisoning and he doesn't think this is a disease that he's seen before. Or maybe it is and he's just too discombobulated to actually tell what's going on.
He stares at the person, squinting and reaching out with a needy hand. "Please tell me you've come to put me out of my misery," he pleads.
WHERE: Hospital
WHEN: April 22
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: General illness/unhappiness of digestion
STATUS: Open!
Ravi hates everything.
No, that's too kind. Ravi loathes everything with the fires of hell layered upon teenybopper performances and CDC-firing bosses on top of that. Ever since he'd woken up from the morning after the feast, he's felt sort of off. Then, this morning, 'off' became the fiery guts of Dante's circles of hell, at least four through seven. He's trudged to the hospital on the auspices that he might work, but truthfully, as soon as he's arrived, he collapses face down on the nearest bed and manages to groan. Even that ends up hurting his body, peering out through blurry vision at a shape that seems to be coming in the door.
What he hasn't actually noticed is the rash, mainly because he's been so occupied with feeling miserable. He turns onto his back and stares at the too-bright ceiling, squinting as he drapes his arm over his eyes, wishing death upon himself.
"Why?" he complains, searching for something to drink because he doesn't even know what would make him feel better. He doesn't even know what it is, because this has no hallmark of food poisoning and he doesn't think this is a disease that he's seen before. Or maybe it is and he's just too discombobulated to actually tell what's going on.
He stares at the person, squinting and reaching out with a needy hand. "Please tell me you've come to put me out of my misery," he pleads.
no subject