Thread: //.ghost/ECHO::Murphy_Was_Right:// [ClockworkCadence x Ryees]

Ffffhhhuck!motheringshitstuffingasscock! Night had come and gone in the blink of an eye. Thoughts tried to enter his mind like fish tinking at the glass of their bowl, finding it just as impermeable as attempting to invade the wholly dense veil of sleep his mind resided within. Dreams, fantasies, nightmares all were locked out and away as his mind turned off every non-essential function. It was a wonderful experience Kirin had hoped would last the rest of his life. Upon finding it had not, he had huffed a sigh and flexed his arms up, intending to brace himself up on his elbows to get a better look around. This was a mistake. The pain in his shoulder had dissipated as it lay still, muscular acids settling in and connective tissue beginning to form. Renewed movement of those tissues moved those acids, and broke up those connective tissue this sent a fresh wave of blood and sensation through the area, and this was a mistake. He flopped back into the sheetsthis was also a mistake, but an unavoidable oneand took several deep breaths through his teeth, trying to find any sensation to focus on besides the pins-and-needles-and-battery-acid-and-molten-hate that felt as though it were attempting to make his nerves dance a jig on top of a bed of spikes laced with angry bees. It was not by his control or his consent that time seemed to slow down and insist he focus on feeling each and every micron in his shoulder commit ballistic suicide, the purest pain he had ever felt in his life threatening to send him back into unconsciousness. He sensed something change in his environment, felt someone's presence come close. The intervening decades that had passed since he first sat up had given him enough clarity to realize that sitting up was a good idea, to get pressure off the wound, but there was little chance he was going to be able to do that on his own until this wave passed and he did so using only his right arm. That arm became the focus of his attention, though, as he felt a gentle hand settle on it. He instinctively knew it was Lyra's, though an infusion of Veritaserum could not have forced him to explain how. Kirin's arm wrapped around her shoulder and he heaved himself up, carefully bracing his shoulder in a compensation pattern, then standing with her help. Upright, he was able to move without the pure force of hate invading through his brachial plexus. Suddenly, his weight shifted, his arm falling through open air. Lyra was gone, phased and disappearing like a shade made of plasm. He blinked at the open door, naught but confusion in his mind. Slowly, he let his mind wake up from both sleep and pain, and played the events of the last few moments through his head. ...Oh. Understanding hit him, and a smile spread across his lips that was wicked, amused, pleased, and infatuated all at once. It took him some minutes to sort through what his plans were, but this medical room certainly seemed to be his place of residence for some time. As such, he saw immediate benefit in setting up a bounded field to keep track of the room, to see forwards and backwards within the space he would be sleeping, and so he walked the corners of the room, dispensing a mote of plasm in each corner. It was not necessary to walk the border as he did, but it eased the process and decreased the plasm expenditure, and with the room empty and nothing but time on his hands, the extra effort seemed worth it. It additionally gave him the chance to walk with his arm and find the best way to carry himself to avoid Zeus sniping him with bolts of glorious, smiting agony. Satisfied with the room, he gave it a test he nudged the small table next to the bed with his foot, then cast his sight back two seconds. The table was undisturbed then, a second later, it shifted, as if by phantom touch. Satisfied, he threw his vision back another eight seconds, and left the medical bay. Kirin's mind had been set on exploration, but his body had other priorities. The Sims bars told him it was food time, flashing red and forcing his stomach to protest loudly at each passing minute it remained empty. He had no idea which building here would contain the mess hall, but a very simple method revealed itself to him Follow the smell of bacon. Carefully avoiding eye contact, body contact, and every other sort of contact with anyone he did not recognize, Kirin strode purposefully through the camp, following his nose, until he found the open-door building with people milling in an out. Within was a cafeteria-style counter constructed from tables laid end to end, one end set with trays, one with silverware, and a crew of far-too-energetic-for-this-early workers dishing out what was not self-serve from behind. His eyes settled on Lyra, walking away from that line with what looked to be a geological landmark of food mounded on her tray. While he doubted her ability to clear it, he certainly admired her taste that looked good . The line moved quickly, and the injured raider was grateful for it. When he left it, his tray looked much like Lyra's, though he had everything separated by a finger's width and neatly piled within its own space. He trundled over to where she sat, noting a bizarre look of shock on her face that sent her into a sputtering series of coughs. He sat down across from her and wordlessly set the plastic cup of water in front of her, offering her a weary-sounding, Morning, as his only words.