Date: 2015-02-24 07:30 am (UTC)
shutupandgetintheanimus: (eagle vision)
Desmond froze. He'd been so focused on blocking out the pain that he had also blocked out other sensations. Like the pinpricking of new nerves as they found new pathways out from his spine, or the throbbing and tiny scrapes of bone knitting together. Jesus. No wonder he was hungry. And weak. But this wasn't normal. Not by a long shot. He wasn't born with wings. In fact he was pretty sure that his dad would have mentioned it, Bill being Bill and all.

His mind raced, trying to come up with some kind of reason, some excuse, some kind of catalyst why this was happening. Clay had wings. Or at least his copy did. They took the real ones, so I coded them back in. God he wished he'd never found that fucking file. The memory of the botched escape after Lucy hung him out to dry. Waking up to find your wings gone...

Desmond lurched, made an uncomfortable sound as his stomach tossed. It had to be her, somehow. "Juno. She...she had to have done something. It couldn't have just been Clay..." He sucked in a breath, trying to push himself up so he could sit, jaw clenched tight as agony lanced through his shoulders at the weight. "Or...or maybe that stupid ball or...shit."

He finally just forced himself up to get it over with as quickly as possible, sitting unsteadily. His breathing was ragged from the exertion. But he was up. "Get it off, then. Please tell me we have Vicodin. ...Does my dad know?"
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shutupandgetintheanimus: (Default)
Desmond Miles

February 2015

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