11-06-2017, 04:31 PM
"Paint drying is no where near as boring as people made it out to be."
Ned's opening statement is offered like those words were all the energy he had in the world. He doesn't move or shift from his makeshift bed, wincing at the hardwood floor that pushes up intolerably into his aching muscles and back. There were fractures in a half dozen places, blood over bruising and no small amount of swelling climbing into Ned's framework. Whether Margot was still asleep or awoke with his statement, it would be all he says for a while. A brief check would reveal he barely finished the sentence before slipping back into unconsciousness again.
* * * *
Ned wakes again some hours later. His eyes flutter and finally surge open, as if the imagery of sleep was severe enough to push him into wakefulness despite the pain telling him it wasn't time yet. He sucks in lungfuls of painful air, working to untense his body from the prone position he was in. He shifts, gingerly, painfully on the flooring in search of a more comfortable position but only manages to find a slightly tilted angle that isn't as uncomfortable as the last but will probably demand he move again soon.
"Did we win?" He says it to the air, trying to make it sound a lot more lighthearted then he genuinely felt right then.
Ned's opening statement is offered like those words were all the energy he had in the world. He doesn't move or shift from his makeshift bed, wincing at the hardwood floor that pushes up intolerably into his aching muscles and back. There were fractures in a half dozen places, blood over bruising and no small amount of swelling climbing into Ned's framework. Whether Margot was still asleep or awoke with his statement, it would be all he says for a while. A brief check would reveal he barely finished the sentence before slipping back into unconsciousness again.
* * * *
Ned wakes again some hours later. His eyes flutter and finally surge open, as if the imagery of sleep was severe enough to push him into wakefulness despite the pain telling him it wasn't time yet. He sucks in lungfuls of painful air, working to untense his body from the prone position he was in. He shifts, gingerly, painfully on the flooring in search of a more comfortable position but only manages to find a slightly tilted angle that isn't as uncomfortable as the last but will probably demand he move again soon.
"Did we win?" He says it to the air, trying to make it sound a lot more lighthearted then he genuinely felt right then.