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taxonomites2010-04-07 10:46 am
tothelibrary.livejournal.com) wrote in taxonomites2010-04-07 10:46 am
[ location: castle summers ] [ accidental visual ] | o i'm going to be wounded
Mirrors haven't been high on Dawn's list of priorities since they brought her back from Wolfram and Hart. Her arm is in a cast courtesy of Dr. McCoy, and every single part of her aches. It's pretty obvious whatever stares back from the mirror is going to be a refugee from the latest Lifetime movie, not the face she's used to seeing. There's no point, right?
...But that's not it, either. She's scared, doesn't want to see. So in the five seconds of alone time she's given today (and she feels a little bad about snapping at everyone about wanting three stupid seconds to herself, but this isn't a group activity) Dawn heads to the bathroom and flips on all the lights, takes a deep breath.
And looks.
It's not as bad as it could be, she thinks critically, setting her tablet behind her on the shelf thing Xander built (she's aware that she hated the tablets like three weeks ago, and clutching the stupid thing like security blanket isn't making her look any less unaffected, but if she had it more available when Angelus... anyway. Maybe this wouldn't have happened at all.) and turning back to the mirror. She's kind of pale, but that's not that much worse than normal. The bruise on her cheek is going down, and the black eye fading to a sickly yellow green.
But it's not the face that was the worst, so after a deep breath and some frustrated muttering-- taking clothes off while in a cast kind of sucks forever, thanks for asking-- she surveys the damage that way. The bruises on her abdomen still look gross, and the imprint of Angelus' hand is still on her forearm. (And her shoulders and turning around, wrapping around her waist and lower back from where he picked her up and squeezed, like a really sick parody of a father lifting up his daughter and twirling her around. Angelus is big on irony.) There are scrapes all along her back and shoulders, from trying to get away. If she lifted the leg of her sweatpants, she already knows all she'll see is the same red, painful abrasions that circle her wrists.
Standing at the mirror for a moment, Dawn just tries to breathe. She's alive, she's fine, she's as home as anyone can get while simultaneously being kidnapped by aliens/robots/hamsters. She's okay. Everything's okay, everything's okay, everything's not okay.
"Crap." The word is more of a sob, and anyone watching their tablets will catch it; along with a bruised and scraped bare lower back, and the owner of the back hunched forward, breathing deeply.
[ ooc: rumi here you go. now come with me to hell. we will go to hell, go straight to hell. we will not pass go or collect two hundred dollars.
ON ANOTHER NOTE lj is sucking, so if i owe you a tag and seem to be lagging i would be SO GRATEFUL if you could pm/im/email me because i probably have no idea that tag is even there. B| ]
...But that's not it, either. She's scared, doesn't want to see. So in the five seconds of alone time she's given today (and she feels a little bad about snapping at everyone about wanting three stupid seconds to herself, but this isn't a group activity) Dawn heads to the bathroom and flips on all the lights, takes a deep breath.
And looks.
It's not as bad as it could be, she thinks critically, setting her tablet behind her on the shelf thing Xander built (she's aware that she hated the tablets like three weeks ago, and clutching the stupid thing like security blanket isn't making her look any less unaffected, but if she had it more available when Angelus... anyway. Maybe this wouldn't have happened at all.) and turning back to the mirror. She's kind of pale, but that's not that much worse than normal. The bruise on her cheek is going down, and the black eye fading to a sickly yellow green.
But it's not the face that was the worst, so after a deep breath and some frustrated muttering-- taking clothes off while in a cast kind of sucks forever, thanks for asking-- she surveys the damage that way. The bruises on her abdomen still look gross, and the imprint of Angelus' hand is still on her forearm. (And her shoulders and turning around, wrapping around her waist and lower back from where he picked her up and squeezed, like a really sick parody of a father lifting up his daughter and twirling her around. Angelus is big on irony.) There are scrapes all along her back and shoulders, from trying to get away. If she lifted the leg of her sweatpants, she already knows all she'll see is the same red, painful abrasions that circle her wrists.
Standing at the mirror for a moment, Dawn just tries to breathe. She's alive, she's fine, she's as home as anyone can get while simultaneously being kidnapped by aliens/robots/hamsters. She's okay. Everything's okay, everything's okay, everything's not okay.
"Crap." The word is more of a sob, and anyone watching their tablets will catch it; along with a bruised and scraped bare lower back, and the owner of the back hunched forward, breathing deeply.
[ ooc: rumi here you go. now come with me to hell. we will go to hell, go straight to hell. we will not pass go or collect two hundred dollars.
ON ANOTHER NOTE lj is sucking, so if i owe you a tag and seem to be lagging i would be SO GRATEFUL if you could pm/im/email me because i probably have no idea that tag is even there. B| ]
[ visual ]
Ruby's life is a rich one.
[ visual ] bed after this tag, that is
"Sexist." Oh, vampires. Ruby always thought they were pathetic leeches anyway. "Seriously, you let a vampire do that much damage to you? That's pretty fucking sad."
[ visual ] <3
"I left my super powers in my other hoodie. Let is so much the wrong word it's on another planet from what happened."
For some reason, bitching at Ruby is taking the slump out of her shoulders. Therapy via anger, who knows.
[ visual ]
Dawn getting her back up is obvious and it makes Ruby smile a little. She can't say no to pushing buttons and a little bit of a fight. "That's why you don't let the Red Cross put you on a donor list. Just makes it easy."