ArchivedLogs:More Recuperation

More Recuperation
Dramatis Personae Rasa, Peter, Ivan	2013-04-03 Seriously how do the X-kids keep ending up in Med-Lab
Location <XS> Medical Lab
Gleaming and sterile, the school's medical facility is all cool science in contrast to the mansion's old-world old-fashion. All stainless steel and antiseptic tinge, the room is filled with the quiet whir-click of the various implements that comprise its medical equipment -- all state-of the art. The hospital beds are curtained off for privacy when they have patients, and in one of the alcoves there is a small operating theatre visible. More heavy-duty equipment is visible in the lab in the back, where the securely locked cabinets keep sensitive equipment out of the reach of teenage fingers. Med-Lab. Sterile. Clean. Quiet. Where people are supposed to /rest/ and /recuperate/. Among them, an (apparent) lump named RASA, and a self-suffocating, self-isolated IVAN. Also, there might be a Peter. There is a curious rustle from the curtains and ceiling in Ivan's vicinity. It is followed -- ever so quickly -- by the descent of an object toward Ivan's bed. This object is a book -- entitled 'INSECT ECOLOGY: Behavior, Populations, and Communities' -- currently dangling by its spine by a silvery cord of webbing, lowered inch by inch toward curled-Ivan. Lowered, of course, by Peter -- who is currently plastered to the ceiling above Ivan, back to it -- one palm and two (currently bare) feet stuck to it, otherwise wearing his usual black hoodie, jeans, and unusual wrist-watches. And a backpack. He's currently equipped with his >:| face. Curled-Ivan lies on his side, in a gown, one pillow under his head, and one on top. It's doubtful he got any sleep last night, from the way his eyes are open but looks barely conscious even when that book manages to cast a shadow across the tiny bit of wall he CAN see out from between the two pillows. He twitches awake in confusion, lifting the pillow just enough to see the descending book. And the thread it's on. Prior to CLAMPING that pillow right back down over his face. /Nnnh/socialno. Something is muttered through that pillow, reluctantly and /barely/ audible. An educated guess might lead one to assume it roughly translates to, "Hello, Peter." The Rasa-type lump in the next bed, on the other side of the curtain, has been shifting a good deal of the night, in hir sleep. Ze has no only been reflecting people, but also the things they have been focused on in their sleep, making for anyone watching camera footage of the young metamorph quite interesting. Sheets have been pinned to each other to give hir a small dose of modesty, despite the shifts, as clothes were judged too constricting a long time ago. There has been some difficulty keeping IVs in hir arms as varying body types sometimes reject them wholly. Some time around two am, however, the shifting stopped. Drained and with very little sleep, a mostly familiar male lays in Rasa's bed, complete with a little bit of darker fuzz around his jaw and under his nose. His body is taller than Rasa's, and while thin, more wiry than one would consider normal. His arms bear the rash that comes from tape being applied and removed several times, and the inside of the left arm is entirely besmirched in a bruise from an especially rough IV rejection. But this boy is starting to wake, and since hospital curtains are usually transparent at the tops, he can see what Peter is doing. He sighs and blinks at him, his head tilting to one side. "Is the ceiling secure enough for that?" asks a deeper, voice, gravely from disuse and the several times he was sick prior to sleep. "Ivan--" Peter begins, but then there's another voice -- the teen's head cocks, peeking over at the other person. And frowns, thinking. Not at the question -- but at the person. Particularly the rough bruising along the left arm. And... "Rasa?" Then: "I didn't know what kind of books you like so I brought you, um --" The book he brought Ivan settles down next to the foot of Ivan's bed; Peter releases the silverish cord -- and reaches behind him, into his backpack, scrounging. The question about ceiling supports goes perplexingly unanswered; either Peter's performing magic or the answer is *YES*. Peter /may/ have done this during a previous medlab visit. He soon produces a slightly torn, thoroughly battered book -- it looks like it even has a bit of /char/ on the cover. Like it's been through... a fire. The title is 'SHOEBAG', by Mary James. It has an illustration of a kitchen floor from the perspective of a roach. "...it's a kid's book, but um, it's about this roach who turns into a human boy but he's all like "I'm not a boy, I'm a ROACH" so he tries to turn back, and..." This half-hearted explanation is soon followed by another look at Rasa's IVs, followed by a lengthy sigh. And then, to Ivan, while looking at Rasa's arm: "Ivan? I know you're probably really sad right now. I just want to, um, talk with you. Right now. Maybe with Rasa?" he shoots Rasa / notRasa a look that almost qualifies as /pleading/. If any of the exchanged words have gotten through to the pillowsandwich filling that is Ivan's head, the boy is not showing it. Then again-- there is an ever so brief moment of movement from the one shoulder that sticks out from above the blankets. Maybe it hurts? It IS the one with the bandages on it. Or maybe he's just being a big /baby/ and he's failing at an attempt to curl up /more/. Rasa nods to Peter and lifts his left arm, yes the bruisey masterpiece arm, and waves to him to pull back the curtain between them. "Come on, Ivan. We want to talk to you. You are important and integral in our school-family space and you should talk." He then starts trying to sit up, giving up soon and starting to rearrange his pillows to allow him a better back rest, then scoots himself up against those pillows. Peter seems very thankful for Rasa's aid in this regard. And then -- he descends. *WHUMP*. The book Peter's brought for Rasa is set upon a nearby tabletop; he shuffles closer to Ivan -- drawing the curtains back so there's a shared visual space -- and then promptly thumps down on his butt, on the floor, to retrieve his socks and shoes (from his backpack). As he wrestles to put the former on first, he dives right in: "Ivan. It's okay to accidentally hurt people, sometimes. I mean it's not /okay/, but it's okay. I think -- Rasa, you're okay, right?" He looks to Rasa, eyebrows crumpled. "But -- Ivan that's why we're /here/, because we've all got weird things going on and sometimes they can be dangerous so we need to learn how to /control/ them so we don't hurt people. But -- sometimes, when you're learning, you'll make mistakes and somebody will get hurt and nobody's /dead/, Ivan, and I don't think Rasa hates you." Peter has been /practicing/ this. Does it show? It does a little, Petey. But practicing probably means caring and that is good. Slowly, very slowly, Ivan drags the pillow off of his face and to the edge of the mattress, where it it -flops- onto the floor when he lets go of it. He fails to wantto move other than that, face showing nothing but tired and exhausted and /staring/. Down at Peter first, then at Rasa. His gaze lingers there, for reasons that are, perhaps, obvious. Despite that, his expression - or lack thereof - does not change. "I am okay," Rasa lies again, before inhaling and amending. "A few bee stings will not hurt me too much. They are just minor annoyances." he turns his head to watch Ivan begin to unwind himself from his sad fetal position. "I could make some jokes here, but the truth of the matter is that it was /not/ you that put me here. It was some... other guy not even at the school. Not your fault. I don't hate you." He studies Ivan a little longer. "Please, be okay." "Right," Peter says, eyes wavering between Rasa and Ivan. "I mean -- and even if it was--" Well! Even if it /was/, that wouldn't be Peter's place to say! But: "Ivan it is okay to make mistakes I mean that is basically how you learn!" A slightly slower glance is thrown Rasa's way, a little quieter: "...what did happen? Because -- I know there were bees, but -- are you, like -- /okay/? Is there anything I can do to help? And -- Sebastian, oh man," and now Peter is just SCRUBBING his eyes. "Oh man I'm gonna need like a lot more books." Peter may think giving everyone books will solve this problem. Don't blame him; Ivan started it. "I am fine." Ivan lies in return, voice a little hoarse, though he does /not/ amend. Nor does he stop staring that probably-unassuming stare at Rasa. A hint of curiosity manages to make it onto his face at the mention of Sebastian. And then guilt. Aaand his outstretched arm finds its way back to his chest in an attempt to disappear into the bed along with the rest of Ivan. Bleh. Clearly he needs more /book/. "I am... empty. Burned out. Hungry." Rasa replies, his free hand reaching up to scrub at his eyes weekly. "Everything that makes me telepath or shift is just... drained out now. I ... don't... can't do anything right now." He lets his hand fall away like it is heavy and turns slowly onto his side, careful of his IV. "It was... um, a surprise. There were people in Shane's head - people that were not him all telepathically linked and it ate me and then I was all of them." He shrugs a little, still limp in his bed. "They are still there, but it is all them now. I can't - I can hear them and it's very strange how regular telepathy is. How are you? You were brought in too, maybe? My memory's not very clear." Rasa looks at Ivan and frowns. "Oh I'm fine," Peter pitches in, and he may be the only one here who /isn't/ lying when he says it. He wiggles his toes as the socks settle on; now, he's moving on to his shoes, one after the other, lacing them up. "Sebastian just chewed on me a little, it's kinda hard to hurt me." He thinks about what Rasa's said for a moment. "Heads -- nnf. Maybe someone here can help? There are -- telepaths here, right? Some of them really know what they're doing. Maybe one of them can, like -- block the voices. You should rest," he tells Rasa, and there's a frumpled /insistence/ to it, like Rasa was thinking of doing something /else/. "You should both rest, and -- and I think I'm going to check on Shane and Sebastian, maybe? Because this whole thing was just bananas." Second shoe, laced up. Peter's getting to his feet, now, hopping up. "Ivan what you did was bad but it's /okay/ because it was a mistake and you know it was a mistake and I think everybody knows you know it was a mistake and if they don't I'll /tell/ them and don't be sad because you are my friend and sadness is not /allowed/." STERNLY. EXPLAINED. Telepaths and burned outness and default Rasa and /confusion/. Even after he is frowned at, Ivan does not cease his staring. At least not until Peter starts talking directly at him again, which is when his eyes finally change targets again. "I will not be sad." He draaags himself up onto an elbow, before very, very slowly lifting an arm toward Peter and scooting slightly closer to the edge of the bed with a look to match Peter's insistence. Careful goodbye hug requested, with a please on top. "Please let them know that what happened to me was not their fault." Rasa explains to Peter in a very serious voice. "They are not allowed to punish themselves." He looks up to the ceiling and studies it. "I do not know what else to say. Shane was so very unhappy when he was happy. How do you talk to that? I don't know! He should just come back. They should just come back so things get better. They are not good now." He brightens. "Tell them things are terrible without them. Worse than yesterday. TERRIBLER than yesterday. Yesterday was a shining spot of wonderfulness even with bees." He is resolute and mimics Ivan's propped up request for a hug. CAREFUL goodbye hug requests? Peter does not do careful. Peter /flings/ -- well, okay, he STRATEGICALLY does so, minding Ivan's injuries -- himself up to Ivan. BOTH ARMS. *SQUEEZE*. And then: "And don't give up on bees, Ivan. Never give up on bees. Bees are /awesome/. Just take it /really/ slow and maybe only with a supervisor, for a while?" And then -- Rasa! Rasa always struck Peter as hesitant for hugs, so when hugs are requested, Peter similarly /flings/ himself there, too! BOTH ARMS. Again, strategically cautious, minding skin contact -- he doesn't know much about Rasa's mutation, but he remembers that skin contact makes things difficult. "I totally will," he tells him as he squeezes. "I will tell them that the school is being attacked by hordes of evil sushi and our only hope is someone who likes the taste of fish and has an /unquenchable/ appetite. Or, I'll just tell them all that other stuff. The true stuff." Slight blush. There is a wince or two or five when Ivan is hugged, but he does hug back all the same. If slightly weaker purely for sharkbite/scratch reasons. There are several nods in response to what is then said and suggested. When Peter turns to dispense hugs toward Rasa, he sinks back into the bed, flat on his back, to stare up at the ceiling. "I do not think they would accept my apology." "You have to give them a chance, Ivan. You pretty much got punished for what you did, so maybe that will make it even," Rasa offers sheepishly as he hugs Peter. He is not at all careful about skin contact for once and is okay letting his cheek rest against Peter's neck. His hug is kind of pathetic, but it is the best he can do right now. "We need them," he says as he pulls back. "Good luck." "He /attacked/ you," Peter says, and maybe -- just /maybe/! -- there's an ounce of anger in there, hiding somewhere beneath that usually bizarrely distractable tone. "He --" But Peter lets that bit dwindle away, shriveling up into a stray end. He squeezes Rasa a bit longer when his cheek makes contact with Peter's neck; then, he slips back and nods. "I'll talk to them. I'll try and make things -- okay. I have to /find/ them, first," he adds, and then: "Both of you just, um, rest up and get better." And then he's /darting/ off, those wrist-watches of his firmly secured on his wrists. As he goes, though, he mentions to Ivan: "Uh by the way sorry but that book is actually from the /library/ cuz I don't have any more money so--" GONE. "DON'T DIE, PETER," Rasa shouts after him. "I can't believe we're letting him go without back up. He's going to get eaten by a sewer monster for sure."