I'm trying not to think about it. Sometimes it helps.
[No point lying about it. His mind's been distracted by processing the change in his and Atem's dynamic, sure, but he's also trying to keep himself occupied by anything but pain at this point.
It hurts terribly...but if he lets himself sink into it, then he'll go useless for the whole day. He's been learning coping mechanisms from the amputation injuries already, so that he doesn't spend the whole day in bed, wallowing in that bone-deep, sickening agony that the medicine only takes the edge off of some days.
...Maybe he's just getting used to pain. Perhaps this is making him stronger. Or maybe he's too tired to process it right now. He's...not sure what's right.
There's a soft pop as the cap comes free, and he tips one pill onto the bed before closing the bottle again and setting it aside with his tendril. The rest of it is ritual--he places the pill on his tongue, takes the water from Atem, and swallows it back.
No matter how quick he does it, the bitterness sticks to his tongue, so he drinks the whole glass down.]
I think I'll be happy to be done with this all...I don't like the Fog, but our well-being and recovery is tied to her, so perhaps this next fog...things will be better.
[He uses his tendril to set the glass aside as well.]
But for now...having you here is enough of a comfort. All of you.
[Yes, he's referring to the snakes too. He's taken note of the fact that they like attention, and the atmosphere's been way too heavy. He wants Atem to be happy...and if the snakes are happy, maybe it means he's happy too.
And if Atem's relaxed, then...Ryou will have done something right.]
no subject
[No point lying about it. His mind's been distracted by processing the change in his and Atem's dynamic, sure, but he's also trying to keep himself occupied by anything but pain at this point.
It hurts terribly...but if he lets himself sink into it, then he'll go useless for the whole day. He's been learning coping mechanisms from the amputation injuries already, so that he doesn't spend the whole day in bed, wallowing in that bone-deep, sickening agony that the medicine only takes the edge off of some days.
...Maybe he's just getting used to pain. Perhaps this is making him stronger. Or maybe he's too tired to process it right now. He's...not sure what's right.
There's a soft pop as the cap comes free, and he tips one pill onto the bed before closing the bottle again and setting it aside with his tendril. The rest of it is ritual--he places the pill on his tongue, takes the water from Atem, and swallows it back.
No matter how quick he does it, the bitterness sticks to his tongue, so he drinks the whole glass down.]
I think I'll be happy to be done with this all...I don't like the Fog, but our well-being and recovery is tied to her, so perhaps this next fog...things will be better.
[He uses his tendril to set the glass aside as well.]
But for now...having you here is enough of a comfort. All of you.
[Yes, he's referring to the snakes too. He's taken note of the fact that they like attention, and the atmosphere's been way too heavy. He wants Atem to be happy...and if the snakes are happy, maybe it means he's happy too.
And if Atem's relaxed, then...Ryou will have done something right.]