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shutupandgetintheanimusDesmond remembered the orb. The electric pains shooting up his arm, into his shoulders and back, the pulaes that made his legs shake and his teeth chatter. How he was able to focus, to bend the damn thing to his will and make it raise the shields that the precursors left behind, he didn't know. He was out after that. He thought he heard Juno, briefly, then the others. Then nothing. Nothing but the most dreamless, restful sleep he'd had in a long time.
Juno and Minerva had been wrong. He was still alive. But the deep, throbbing pain in his back and shoulders that greeted him as he awakened? He wished they'd been right.
He groaned, eyes half-lidded as he lifted his head off the pillow. He'd been sleeping on his stomach. "Fuck..." he croaked out. His throat was dry, lips cracked. His brain was still in a haze of too much sleep and not enough food or water. He attempted to push himself up off the mattress, to get his bearings, but the tingling pain in his right arm and the stiffness in his shoulders nipped that idea in the bud. Desmond winced as he lowered himself back down.
At the very least he managed to pry his eyes open enough to stare at the bandages wrapped around his arm. It had been burned, he remembered. Not as bad as it could have been, probably. Still, second-degree burns weren't fun.
Juno and Minerva had been wrong. He was still alive. But the deep, throbbing pain in his back and shoulders that greeted him as he awakened? He wished they'd been right.
He groaned, eyes half-lidded as he lifted his head off the pillow. He'd been sleeping on his stomach. "Fuck..." he croaked out. His throat was dry, lips cracked. His brain was still in a haze of too much sleep and not enough food or water. He attempted to push himself up off the mattress, to get his bearings, but the tingling pain in his right arm and the stiffness in his shoulders nipped that idea in the bud. Desmond winced as he lowered himself back down.
At the very least he managed to pry his eyes open enough to stare at the bandages wrapped around his arm. It had been burned, he remembered. Not as bad as it could have been, probably. Still, second-degree burns weren't fun.
