taxonomites | 023: [ visual ] / [ location: Hyperion Hotel ] Before I come undone

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023: [ visual ] / [ location: Hyperion Hotel ] Before I come undone

No, no, no -

"No!"

Cordelia wakes up with a start, sitting upright on her bed with her hands clutching her blanket like a lifeline. For several moments she looks around her in alarm, wondering where the hell she is and where the others are, wondering if this is another one of those times she unfortunately opened her eyes only to be sliced and diced again and--

Then she rests her head on her hands, and breathes. It's over now. It's over and done with and they're all safe but the images are still burned in her brain, like a vision that's been put on eternal loop.

Slowly - mindful of the pains that plague her - Cordelia gets out of bed. She looks down at herself, sees the numerous bandages that are wrapped around her body, and sighs.

And here she thought she'd be safe in Taxon. Pfft.

She gets up, and walks over to the mirror. Cordelia looks at her reflection, and bites her lip.

God.

"Mummy girl much?" she whispers.

[ ooc: backdated to a day after the horrors. ]

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"Pfft, that's next season's hot look. I read it in Vogue."

The attempt is pathetic, she knows, and the smile is pretty much a mockery of the real thing, in a face filled with worry and sympathy, but there it is.

"You already read it in Vogue? And here I thought I'd be the one to revolutionize the whole 'sick girl' look as the new in thing."

Cordelia offers her own pathetic smile in return - but it's a smile, nonetheless.

"If it's any consolation, I think you're making it your own?" In times like these, what can ex-Sunnydale residents do except make bad jokes? It's how they cope.

"How're you holding up?" It's probably a redundant question, considering the mummification, but Buffy has to ask.

That got her to chuckle. "I'm already asking Lorne to sit down and actually design stuff for me, so better expect something from us, soon." It's their specialty, after all.

"Oh, you know. I think these bandages are the ones holding me up right now." And, as if to prove her point, Cordelia goes to sit on the bed. "I... assume you're one of those who went in the rescue mission?"

"Sign me up for one in every color." Xander does the post-trauma jokes better than Buffy though - which is kind of a sad thing to be thinking about, but her thoughts are running that way a lot lately.

Buffy frowns in sympathy, wincing a little as Cordelia sits. "I hope you're being waited on hand and foot." And if she hears that this is not the case, there may be some stern words with Angel. "And yeah, I was. Mostly I was just taking out Extras. I can't imagine what--" She cuts herself off, starting again. "--I really wish we could've gotten there sooner."

"Don't worry, already milking it for all its worth," she replies lightly - which is true, at least in Wesley's case. Angel she might try to actually coax to do something else for her, once the vampire stops being so... quiet. Which will be some time around never.

Cordelia shakes her head, then closes her eyes. She can hear them - the screaming, the laughter, even the dead silence. It might take a while before these memories faded. "Don't," she says softly. "Don't imagine it." Because thinking it is horrible enough. "And... I'm not... I mean. You guys got us out while we're still breathing, so that counts for a lot." Cordelia pauses for a while. "Um. How's Tara?"

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