02-06-2014, 07:05 AM
As much as he wanted answers, he was not foolish enough to ignore Dr. Weston's command. Whatever else she might be, she was a doctor, and one of the best, if Ascendancy had taken notice of her.
Michael suffered through her examination in silence, not wishing to succumb to oblivion just quite yet. It was stubborn, perhaps stupid even, he had no answers waiting in the back of his mind ready and any that may have been buried somewhere were further entombed by the mass of pain that drained his mental capacity.
Watching Dr. Weston's concerned but steady face as she spoke reassuring words was entirely strange. Most people - and even those not human apparently - tried as hard as they could to tear his throat out. To have someone striving to actually save his life was a welcome surprise, even if it was merely standard procedure.
Michael even managed a thin smile, his lips wet with blood as he forced the metallic liquid from his throat; carefully of course. He had no wish to test the limits of his endurance. He maintained a steady breath, although it was excruciating to do so, the power gave him the will to persevere. Still calm, albeit tense, he softened his voice to retain it's strength. Habit compelled him although it may not have been necessary. The Vegas and Knights took every opportunity to slight him as it was; weakness eroded his position and he would be damned if he failed now. "I may yet turn this to our advantage,"
he mused, more to himself than Dr. Weston who seemed content in...doing whatever it was doctors did at times like these.
The thought sparked a piece of him that had been carefree; before the gift and poison he had received. It seemed that doctors always suggested the patient should stay calm and wait for help. A good suggestion, no doubt, but he had always found it funny. It was hard, he found, to be content and wait while his life drained away. So he turned his mind to important matters, if only to keep himself from dwelling on the situation. Besides, she had not said anything about not talking.
This time he did address Dr. Watson, keeping potential contingencies to himself for the moment. He could not trust his judgement and caution in the state he was in. "It would be best to say nothing of the...attacker, either."
Before he could go into more detail, he heard the emergency team arriving and spoke quietly so it did not sound so much like a command. "Speak to no-one about this, when I regain consciousness, we shall discuss this privately."
He gave Dr. Weston a thin smile -although it likely looked anything but pleasant. He had been out of practice. "My life is in your hands,"
was all he said as the medical team arrived, bustling about. He then turned to the less pleasant task. Reluctantly he released the power and his shoulders slumped immediately like he had been hit by a grand piano. After that came more pain, and he allowed himself to be swept away by the haze of shock and blood loss.
Edited by Michael Vellas, Feb 6 2014, 07:06 AM.
Michael suffered through her examination in silence, not wishing to succumb to oblivion just quite yet. It was stubborn, perhaps stupid even, he had no answers waiting in the back of his mind ready and any that may have been buried somewhere were further entombed by the mass of pain that drained his mental capacity.
Watching Dr. Weston's concerned but steady face as she spoke reassuring words was entirely strange. Most people - and even those not human apparently - tried as hard as they could to tear his throat out. To have someone striving to actually save his life was a welcome surprise, even if it was merely standard procedure.
Michael even managed a thin smile, his lips wet with blood as he forced the metallic liquid from his throat; carefully of course. He had no wish to test the limits of his endurance. He maintained a steady breath, although it was excruciating to do so, the power gave him the will to persevere. Still calm, albeit tense, he softened his voice to retain it's strength. Habit compelled him although it may not have been necessary. The Vegas and Knights took every opportunity to slight him as it was; weakness eroded his position and he would be damned if he failed now. "I may yet turn this to our advantage,"
he mused, more to himself than Dr. Weston who seemed content in...doing whatever it was doctors did at times like these.
The thought sparked a piece of him that had been carefree; before the gift and poison he had received. It seemed that doctors always suggested the patient should stay calm and wait for help. A good suggestion, no doubt, but he had always found it funny. It was hard, he found, to be content and wait while his life drained away. So he turned his mind to important matters, if only to keep himself from dwelling on the situation. Besides, she had not said anything about not talking.
This time he did address Dr. Watson, keeping potential contingencies to himself for the moment. He could not trust his judgement and caution in the state he was in. "It would be best to say nothing of the...attacker, either."
Before he could go into more detail, he heard the emergency team arriving and spoke quietly so it did not sound so much like a command. "Speak to no-one about this, when I regain consciousness, we shall discuss this privately."
He gave Dr. Weston a thin smile -although it likely looked anything but pleasant. He had been out of practice. "My life is in your hands,"
was all he said as the medical team arrived, bustling about. He then turned to the less pleasant task. Reluctantly he released the power and his shoulders slumped immediately like he had been hit by a grand piano. After that came more pain, and he allowed himself to be swept away by the haze of shock and blood loss.
Edited by Michael Vellas, Feb 6 2014, 07:06 AM.
"She saw a flaring halo around his head, radiant in gold and blue. It shouted of glory and power to come"
"No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it."