[ In life, there are worse things than being a lunatic. Like being inert. Mikazuki's blood has slowed to a crawl in his veins, clouding him up from the inside out. Being like this isn't the problem — a busted arm and a bad eye are inconveniences, but Mikazuki wears his endurance like a second skin, his resistance almost as honed as his strength. That's probably why he's been confined here, someone either sitting in with him or lingering by the door to listen for any signs of activity. It's definitely why he's been given medicine to dull the effects of his new condition. Even Orga opposed, at first. Then he'd discovered Mikazuki already halfway into Barbatos's cockpit after being told to take it easy, and changed his opinion.
Now his head pounds. He's not in any pain, but there is noise slowly circulating within him. Probably his own pulse, though it also sounds like Barbatos, at times. At his bedside, there is a small radio on the table. For days now, it's been playing Kudelia's speech as news. Mikazuki doesn't really understand much of it, just that he likes listening to her. As he stares at the unbroken ceiling, he vaguely tries to sharpen his sense of depth, to test the limits of how he now sees. He's mostly unsuccessful, and his good fingers flex instinctively across his middle. ]
Still no good, huh... [ Mikazuki breathes in, tasting the impression of rain on the air. That's how he is when the door opens and closes, his visitor apparently only thinking to knock after the fact. Then, the greeting — Eugene. Now it makes sense. ] It's already that late?
[ His question is genuine, and not a complaint. How long had it been since he'd laid down? He didn't think he'd lost that much time to parsing what his body now feels like with half of it lost, and the other half drugged. With his left arm, he pushes up into a seat, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. Miss Merribit and Takaki had brought him a sling for his other arm sometime earlier in the day, but Mikazuki left it crumpled on the bedside table alongside the radio.
His gaze cuts aside to the tray of food, and he nods to Eugene. ]
no subject
Now his head pounds. He's not in any pain, but there is noise slowly circulating within him. Probably his own pulse, though it also sounds like Barbatos, at times. At his bedside, there is a small radio on the table. For days now, it's been playing Kudelia's speech as news. Mikazuki doesn't really understand much of it, just that he likes listening to her. As he stares at the unbroken ceiling, he vaguely tries to sharpen his sense of depth, to test the limits of how he now sees. He's mostly unsuccessful, and his good fingers flex instinctively across his middle. ]
Still no good, huh... [ Mikazuki breathes in, tasting the impression of rain on the air. That's how he is when the door opens and closes, his visitor apparently only thinking to knock after the fact. Then, the greeting — Eugene. Now it makes sense. ] It's already that late?
[ His question is genuine, and not a complaint. How long had it been since he'd laid down? He didn't think he'd lost that much time to parsing what his body now feels like with half of it lost, and the other half drugged. With his left arm, he pushes up into a seat, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. Miss Merribit and Takaki had brought him a sling for his other arm sometime earlier in the day, but Mikazuki left it crumpled on the bedside table alongside the radio.
His gaze cuts aside to the tray of food, and he nods to Eugene. ]
...thanks.