Can you hear music through the haze of anesthesia?
Jul 26, 2015 14:56:17 GMT
Junichi "iTchY" Kichise likes this
Post by Anzhelika 'Angie' Elisaveta on Jul 26, 2015 14:56:17 GMT
(OOC: Closed for Angie x Daichi Calhoun)
Angie didn't know what to expect when she heard the announcement that all of their rooms were individually designed by an Ultimate. Other than her uncle's apartment, the only other home she had ever lived in was their hole-in-the-wall clinic back in Russia. Back there, an unmarked wooden door was all that indicated the local clinic. If one were to enter it, they'll come upon a musty room that housed an old, rectangular table covered by a sheet of whatever happened to be available. It was where they would carry out operations, and the then scarlet-stained covering would be discarded outside, possibly burnt. The room also functioned as a place for the injured to recover, with blankets and worm-eaten mattresses stuffed in one corner.
While definitely capable of giving a health-inspector a heart attack, it was what she and her family had to work with. And at the end of the day, lives saved were lives saved and a debt for her family to cash in on.
After the first room was their kitchen/dining area/living room hybrid. As the name implies, anything to do with sitting around and or eating took place in that one area. The only sofa they had was there too, which was one piece of furniture Angie grew fond of after the many countless hours spent on it. She wasn't the unappreciative type – the lounge chair they provided in her room was mighty comfy – but the familiarity of that original sofa couldn't be replaced. This room was also where she and her father slept, with him insisting on giving Angie their sofa while he slept on a mattress placed on the floor. Her father would give her the warmer blanket too, but he would often wake up to find it mysteriously covering him instead.
Giving credit where it's due, Angie whispered a silent thanks to this Hitomi Siagyo person. While it was unnerving how well the room fitted her personality, she chalked it up to the designer's talent instead of delving into the twisting, crooked path of paranoia. Paranoia wasn't exactly known for its health benefits, after all. Stepping forwards to admire the fireplace, her fingers absentmindedly brushed across the surface of her bed. Whispering seductive hints of comfort, it made her think for a second that it might rival even the bed her uncle had bought for her. For that short while, she imagined that it was actually the better of the two. And as quick as that thought came to be, it was stopped before the guilt piled on even higher. Was this superfluous excess in everything already changing her for the worse?
'Uncle.. I wonder how he's holding up?' Sitting on her bed, Angie started to think about her father too. Would he be happy with the circumstances currently surrounding her?
Seeing as her minuscule amount of luggage was already unpacked, there's at least a little time for reminiscing about things and people. It was a guilty habit of hers, often resulting in bitter happiness instead of more pleasant emotions. Stretching, she laid down and stared at the ceiling's blank canvas. Her thoughts first drifted to her uncle, and how lonely he must be. She was the niece he never had, filling up the black void of his loneliness. Now he'll be back to living alone with the ghosts of precious memories. She imagined their house, filled once again by only the miserable sound of mindless television. The smile he had when cooking for her will disappear too, along with any reborn life in his kitchen. And to think, he was so excited about shopping for new utensils just a week before she left.
'Is uncle going to be alright? He sent me off with a smile, but was that the whole truth?'
Letting out a soft sigh, she wrote herself a mental note to send him a message or two later tonight. Getting out of bed, she took one last look around the room. Were they, the Ultimates, really worth the money spent on these luxurious accommodations? She certainly felt that her room was already worth more than she could possibly be, but certain others may just be what's needed for these so called peace talks. 'Could it be that they called me to talk about life back in my hometown? To paint a picture about how bad it can get? They.. they wouldn't use me like this, right?' It wasn't something she wished to share, but it wasn't like she could refuse if push came to shove. They had already provided so much.
Grabbing her card key, she clicked her tongue as she stepped into the corridor. Just what were they planning with all this?
Angie didn't know what to expect when she heard the announcement that all of their rooms were individually designed by an Ultimate. Other than her uncle's apartment, the only other home she had ever lived in was their hole-in-the-wall clinic back in Russia. Back there, an unmarked wooden door was all that indicated the local clinic. If one were to enter it, they'll come upon a musty room that housed an old, rectangular table covered by a sheet of whatever happened to be available. It was where they would carry out operations, and the then scarlet-stained covering would be discarded outside, possibly burnt. The room also functioned as a place for the injured to recover, with blankets and worm-eaten mattresses stuffed in one corner.
While definitely capable of giving a health-inspector a heart attack, it was what she and her family had to work with. And at the end of the day, lives saved were lives saved and a debt for her family to cash in on.
After the first room was their kitchen/dining area/living room hybrid. As the name implies, anything to do with sitting around and or eating took place in that one area. The only sofa they had was there too, which was one piece of furniture Angie grew fond of after the many countless hours spent on it. She wasn't the unappreciative type – the lounge chair they provided in her room was mighty comfy – but the familiarity of that original sofa couldn't be replaced. This room was also where she and her father slept, with him insisting on giving Angie their sofa while he slept on a mattress placed on the floor. Her father would give her the warmer blanket too, but he would often wake up to find it mysteriously covering him instead.
Giving credit where it's due, Angie whispered a silent thanks to this Hitomi Siagyo person. While it was unnerving how well the room fitted her personality, she chalked it up to the designer's talent instead of delving into the twisting, crooked path of paranoia. Paranoia wasn't exactly known for its health benefits, after all. Stepping forwards to admire the fireplace, her fingers absentmindedly brushed across the surface of her bed. Whispering seductive hints of comfort, it made her think for a second that it might rival even the bed her uncle had bought for her. For that short while, she imagined that it was actually the better of the two. And as quick as that thought came to be, it was stopped before the guilt piled on even higher. Was this superfluous excess in everything already changing her for the worse?
'Uncle.. I wonder how he's holding up?' Sitting on her bed, Angie started to think about her father too. Would he be happy with the circumstances currently surrounding her?
Seeing as her minuscule amount of luggage was already unpacked, there's at least a little time for reminiscing about things and people. It was a guilty habit of hers, often resulting in bitter happiness instead of more pleasant emotions. Stretching, she laid down and stared at the ceiling's blank canvas. Her thoughts first drifted to her uncle, and how lonely he must be. She was the niece he never had, filling up the black void of his loneliness. Now he'll be back to living alone with the ghosts of precious memories. She imagined their house, filled once again by only the miserable sound of mindless television. The smile he had when cooking for her will disappear too, along with any reborn life in his kitchen. And to think, he was so excited about shopping for new utensils just a week before she left.
'Is uncle going to be alright? He sent me off with a smile, but was that the whole truth?'
Letting out a soft sigh, she wrote herself a mental note to send him a message or two later tonight. Getting out of bed, she took one last look around the room. Were they, the Ultimates, really worth the money spent on these luxurious accommodations? She certainly felt that her room was already worth more than she could possibly be, but certain others may just be what's needed for these so called peace talks. 'Could it be that they called me to talk about life back in my hometown? To paint a picture about how bad it can get? They.. they wouldn't use me like this, right?' It wasn't something she wished to share, but it wasn't like she could refuse if push came to shove. They had already provided so much.
Grabbing her card key, she clicked her tongue as she stepped into the corridor. Just what were they planning with all this?
