10-24-2013, 10:09 PM
It's Wednesday. Odin's Day. It's the day Grace Awakened. But now, it's the day she's going to die.
It starts slowly, with little things. She feels blood trickling from her nose, but it's not real. Then, it's dripping on her arms and hands, and she frantically wipes away the nothing that's actually there with facial tissues.
But it's when the walls begin to bleed that she finally puts it together. The virus has done what Sid said it would, and is attacking her brain.
So far, she's managed to keep it somewhat together, to keep going, even though every day is another slice of life taken away. But now, it's in her brain, and that's really all she has.
What is death, but the loss of the self? Her body is not her, so attacks against that shell were meaningless compared to this. This virus is going to make her die long before she stops moving. It's going to take away who she is.
Frantic, she asks Luke for something more -- can't he double up on the dosage, or combine the cyclosporine with another something? Please?
Sid has her work, and Grace would not bother her for anything right now. But Grace has no work to do, nothing to do but think, nothing to focus on to ease the anxiety. So when she gets the message from Hawksley that Dan doesn't know where Sera is, and he is being blocked in his attempts to scry for her, the response given back is a mess of disconnected half-formed thoughts.
Later, she gets a text from Kalen that reads, "Grace: Do. Not. Die. I mean it. I may not forgive you. I would. Eventually. But please don't, anyway."
It's the kind of thing that a few days ago, she would have thrown a joke back at. But now... Blood starts bubbling up from the sides of her phone, covering the screen in glowing red. It's not real, but that doesn't matter. It doesn't help her see. It doesn't help her put her disorganized mind back together again. She wipes the red away to try to type a response, and manages, "I'm trying but there's all. Sorr. There's blood covering my phone. Can't see. Don't worry it's a hallucinating. Not real blood. Sid says she's getting close to fixing us."
"I'm glad to hear about Sid being close. Take care," Kalen's text reads. she lays the phone down again, with hands that feel sticky with illusions.
He sends her another text somewhat later, which she misses. She's busy retching in the clinic's bathroom, with blood pouring from her nose and mouth. This time it's real.
"I miss you."
It starts slowly, with little things. She feels blood trickling from her nose, but it's not real. Then, it's dripping on her arms and hands, and she frantically wipes away the nothing that's actually there with facial tissues.
But it's when the walls begin to bleed that she finally puts it together. The virus has done what Sid said it would, and is attacking her brain.
So far, she's managed to keep it somewhat together, to keep going, even though every day is another slice of life taken away. But now, it's in her brain, and that's really all she has.
What is death, but the loss of the self? Her body is not her, so attacks against that shell were meaningless compared to this. This virus is going to make her die long before she stops moving. It's going to take away who she is.
Frantic, she asks Luke for something more -- can't he double up on the dosage, or combine the cyclosporine with another something? Please?
Sid has her work, and Grace would not bother her for anything right now. But Grace has no work to do, nothing to do but think, nothing to focus on to ease the anxiety. So when she gets the message from Hawksley that Dan doesn't know where Sera is, and he is being blocked in his attempts to scry for her, the response given back is a mess of disconnected half-formed thoughts.
Later, she gets a text from Kalen that reads, "Grace: Do. Not. Die. I mean it. I may not forgive you. I would. Eventually. But please don't, anyway."
It's the kind of thing that a few days ago, she would have thrown a joke back at. But now... Blood starts bubbling up from the sides of her phone, covering the screen in glowing red. It's not real, but that doesn't matter. It doesn't help her see. It doesn't help her put her disorganized mind back together again. She wipes the red away to try to type a response, and manages, "I'm trying but there's all. Sorr. There's blood covering my phone. Can't see. Don't worry it's a hallucinating. Not real blood. Sid says she's getting close to fixing us."
"I'm glad to hear about Sid being close. Take care," Kalen's text reads. she lays the phone down again, with hands that feel sticky with illusions.
He sends her another text somewhat later, which she misses. She's busy retching in the clinic's bathroom, with blood pouring from her nose and mouth. This time it's real.
"I miss you."