04-20-2024, 09:22 PM
She broke the speed limit. Swerved through the traffic dangerously. Any other day it might have been a thrill, but tonight her teeth only grit with the irritation of her own motives. By the time they reached the Guardian, Ori’s temper was black and volatile. She wasn’t in the mood for explaining herself, or for civility. In the middle of the hospital foyer she made an unceremonious show of letting Nox’s body fall to the ground. Emergency staff swarmed, and she only snarled at the insistence she wait somewhere out of their way. The power lashed about her still. It took nothing to compel her own way.
She told herself she stayed because Nox was injured and unpredictable, and if Sage fucked up the doctors were his best chance – which they wouldn’t be if he incinerated them and half the hospital in his delirious state. As they worked to stabilise him she glimpsed the ruin of his body, and had already pieced enough horror from the boy in the cage for some sick understanding of what he might have been through. Medical intervention might easily be mistaken for whatever sliced away the literal missing chunks of Nox’s flesh, and she knew something of his lightning reflexes.
She hated seeing him vulnerable, and she hated the sounds of the beeps once it was just Nox and the machinery. She considered leaving now, but didn’t. For once the ijiraq were mostly quiet, and not because Ori was half insensible. In fact by now she felt mostly sober. But perhaps the silence was because their constant whispers were actually a mirror for her own thoughts, which didn’t make her feel any better. She sat in a chair as far away as she could be from his bedside, like the distance could excuse the fact she stuck around at all.
“About fucking time,” was all she said, when it became apparent Sage had actually pulled his weight. Her gaze scoured the face which entered with no pretence for warmth. She’d been expecting the mask, but apparently Sage carried greater influence than she’d thought considering half the time he simply seemed high. An interesting risk for Jensen James to take. She neither knew nor cared if he recognised or remembered her. That night she’d been one of them, dressed in wealth, all sweet and innocent smiles and charm. Tonight was a truer face.
She told herself she stayed because Nox was injured and unpredictable, and if Sage fucked up the doctors were his best chance – which they wouldn’t be if he incinerated them and half the hospital in his delirious state. As they worked to stabilise him she glimpsed the ruin of his body, and had already pieced enough horror from the boy in the cage for some sick understanding of what he might have been through. Medical intervention might easily be mistaken for whatever sliced away the literal missing chunks of Nox’s flesh, and she knew something of his lightning reflexes.
She hated seeing him vulnerable, and she hated the sounds of the beeps once it was just Nox and the machinery. She considered leaving now, but didn’t. For once the ijiraq were mostly quiet, and not because Ori was half insensible. In fact by now she felt mostly sober. But perhaps the silence was because their constant whispers were actually a mirror for her own thoughts, which didn’t make her feel any better. She sat in a chair as far away as she could be from his bedside, like the distance could excuse the fact she stuck around at all.
“About fucking time,” was all she said, when it became apparent Sage had actually pulled his weight. Her gaze scoured the face which entered with no pretence for warmth. She’d been expecting the mask, but apparently Sage carried greater influence than she’d thought considering half the time he simply seemed high. An interesting risk for Jensen James to take. She neither knew nor cared if he recognised or remembered her. That night she’d been one of them, dressed in wealth, all sweet and innocent smiles and charm. Tonight was a truer face.
![[Image: orianderis.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/orianderis.jpg)