Maketh Tua (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mismanagement) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hadriel_logs2016-03-04 07:43 pm
mismanagement) wrote in hadriel_logs2016-03-04 07:43 pm
Entry tags:
what's behind the door i wonder
Who: Henry Percy and Maketh Tua
What: The aftermath of the wendigo event following this
Where: Henry’s apartment
When: March 2nd
Warnings: tw for discussions of gore, cannibalism, and suicide.
There was a gap between when the message was received and when the meeting itself would occur. Maketh felt childishly relieved at that. She’d found reason – one after another – to avoid seeking Henry out after she’d woken up in Hope’s temple, naked and not quite insane. There’d been no pressing issues to discuss, no new weapons for him to explain. Nothing pressing. Except now that he’d requested her presence, and Maketh knew a summons when she saw one. This couldn’t be avoided.
It felt a bit like a reckoning. Maketh supposed it had come due.
She spent the rest of the day trying – and failing – to write up an inventory list for what remained of the clinic, extrapolating the uses of a dozen unfamiliar medicines from their bottles – not all of which had labels, or clear indication of purpose. Later she pressed her uniform, such as it was, and righted her hair.
Then she put on her coat and went out to see Henry Percy, who she’d considered a friend and who she’d ordered to set another person on fire. Maketh had nightmares about the look on his face. About how—
Stop. Irrelevant.
Maketh stopped in the middle of the street, took a deep breath, and slapped herself across the face.
It stung. It brought her crashing back into the moment.
Better. She was a professional. She’d act like one.
By the time Maketh knocked on Henry’s door, she’d arranged her face into a careful, practiced blankness.
What: The aftermath of the wendigo event following this
Where: Henry’s apartment
When: March 2nd
Warnings: tw for discussions of gore, cannibalism, and suicide.
There was a gap between when the message was received and when the meeting itself would occur. Maketh felt childishly relieved at that. She’d found reason – one after another – to avoid seeking Henry out after she’d woken up in Hope’s temple, naked and not quite insane. There’d been no pressing issues to discuss, no new weapons for him to explain. Nothing pressing. Except now that he’d requested her presence, and Maketh knew a summons when she saw one. This couldn’t be avoided.
It felt a bit like a reckoning. Maketh supposed it had come due.
She spent the rest of the day trying – and failing – to write up an inventory list for what remained of the clinic, extrapolating the uses of a dozen unfamiliar medicines from their bottles – not all of which had labels, or clear indication of purpose. Later she pressed her uniform, such as it was, and righted her hair.
Then she put on her coat and went out to see Henry Percy, who she’d considered a friend and who she’d ordered to set another person on fire. Maketh had nightmares about the look on his face. About how—
Stop. Irrelevant.
Maketh stopped in the middle of the street, took a deep breath, and slapped herself across the face.
It stung. It brought her crashing back into the moment.
Better. She was a professional. She’d act like one.
By the time Maketh knocked on Henry’s door, she’d arranged her face into a careful, practiced blankness.