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geeky_agentShe rolls from her side to her back. Sleeping on her side is uncomfortable now with her new...appendages. Flat, muscled appendages on each side. Fins. 
Chris buries her face in her pillow. No. I'm just not thinking about it.
Sleeping on her stomach isn't much better. It's hell on her lower back. She tries to shift but finds that she can't move her legs, at least, not apart. Still tired, still wanting to sleep, she moves a few more times but her legs feel as if they're almost bound together. When she tries to move them apart it's almost a pinching sensation through both legs.
Frustrated now, she turns over and sits up in bed. She takes off the covers and doesn't understand what she sees.
There's a light grayish-blue tissue binding her legs. It's thin, she can make out the shape of her two legs underneath but it's strong. She runs her hands across it and it's smooth, like most membrane surfaces.
It's my skin.
She rebels against the idea but runs her nails across her thigh sharply. It itches and even stings in some parts where she drew blood.
No, no, no, no... Something between a strangled scream and a growl rips through her throat. She claws at her legs and all it does is rip the skin but the binding remains. Chris moves and swings her legs over the bedside. She tries to stand but only falls on her side.
She lays there quiet, the hysteria fading into desolation. She gulps a bit, feeling the tears slide down her cheek but tries to compose herself.
Then she remembers the scissors in her nightable drawer.
Chris sits up and reaches around in the drawer until she finds them. Clutching them in her hand, like a dagger, she starts near her feet. Slowly, carefully, she pushes the scissors through to the floor. It's uncomfortable but not painful. Tilting the scissors back, she drags them through her skin in a quick motion, teeth clenched. She reaches her knees before she stops. The scissors drop to the floor.
There's blood.
Logically, she knows it's not a lot but it looks like a lot.
This is insane. What am I doing?
She moves her legs and the skin still covering them stretches and stings. Chris hits the floor with her fist and picks up the scissors. This is too much. I need to be able to move.
A few more deep breaths with her eyes closed and then she feels ready.
She slices the skin the rest of the way, letting out a small yelp when she cuts the skin on her inner thigh.
Chris drops the scissors and rests back on the bed. There's more blood but it's starting to clot already. Her legs raw, like they've been burnt. Another deep breath which she lets out slowly.
She feels better somehow.
Chris buries her face in her pillow. No. I'm just not thinking about it.
Sleeping on her stomach isn't much better. It's hell on her lower back. She tries to shift but finds that she can't move her legs, at least, not apart. Still tired, still wanting to sleep, she moves a few more times but her legs feel as if they're almost bound together. When she tries to move them apart it's almost a pinching sensation through both legs.
Frustrated now, she turns over and sits up in bed. She takes off the covers and doesn't understand what she sees.
There's a light grayish-blue tissue binding her legs. It's thin, she can make out the shape of her two legs underneath but it's strong. She runs her hands across it and it's smooth, like most membrane surfaces.
It's my skin.
She rebels against the idea but runs her nails across her thigh sharply. It itches and even stings in some parts where she drew blood.
No, no, no, no... Something between a strangled scream and a growl rips through her throat. She claws at her legs and all it does is rip the skin but the binding remains. Chris moves and swings her legs over the bedside. She tries to stand but only falls on her side.
She lays there quiet, the hysteria fading into desolation. She gulps a bit, feeling the tears slide down her cheek but tries to compose herself.
Then she remembers the scissors in her nightable drawer.
Chris sits up and reaches around in the drawer until she finds them. Clutching them in her hand, like a dagger, she starts near her feet. Slowly, carefully, she pushes the scissors through to the floor. It's uncomfortable but not painful. Tilting the scissors back, she drags them through her skin in a quick motion, teeth clenched. She reaches her knees before she stops. The scissors drop to the floor.
There's blood.
Logically, she knows it's not a lot but it looks like a lot.
This is insane. What am I doing?
She moves her legs and the skin still covering them stretches and stings. Chris hits the floor with her fist and picks up the scissors. This is too much. I need to be able to move.
A few more deep breaths with her eyes closed and then she feels ready.
She slices the skin the rest of the way, letting out a small yelp when she cuts the skin on her inner thigh.
Chris drops the scissors and rests back on the bed. There's more blood but it's starting to clot already. Her legs raw, like they've been burnt. Another deep breath which she lets out slowly.
She feels better somehow.
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Date: 2005-07-18 11:48 am (UTC)Elaine only ran down to the bar to get supplies and eat a quick meal--she'd not eaten in a day and was beginning to get shaky. Yesterday, during her five-minute run to get supplies, the bar had given her an article about caring for a dolphin out of the sea--and there had been a picture.
She'd not said anything to Chris, but she was very thankful for that picture, and the information. She seemed to do better when she was in the tub full of water.
She's been gone about fifteen minutes; she'd not wanted to leave while Chris was still awake, but there wouldn't be much she could do if Elaine fainted. She has supplies in her arms and she pushes open the door.
When she sees what Chris has done to herself, Elaine pales, but her only comment is "Jesu..." Elaine, don't. Don't panic. Center, stay calm.
Elaine makes herself walk over to the desk in the room, setting her new supplies down upon it. And then she takes a cloth and fills a basin with water to wash the blood off of Christine's legs and hands, to see if she needs stitches or more attention. "Do you want to get back into the tub?" she asks, only a slight tremor in her voice.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-18 07:42 pm (UTC)"I'm fine." But she doesn't even believe that, why would Elaine?
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Date: 2005-07-18 07:56 pm (UTC)Damn it, damn it, damn it! God, I hope I don't have to do stitches, I've not done them for two years! Elaine sees, to her relief, that the cuts have already clotted and look clean. So, carefully, she washes and dries Christine's legs and hands, and helps the taller woman into bed.
She tries very hard to make Christine comfortable, maneuvering pillows to conform to the strange growths on her body. "I am sorry, I'm trying, but I do not know how best to make it comfortable for you." Elaine drops into a chair and stares down at her hands. "Do you need water or anything?"
Elaine feels helpless, and it's a feeling she thoroughly dislikes. She doesn't quite know what to do. This is so far beyond her knowledge...
no subject
Date: 2005-07-18 08:24 pm (UTC)"I'm sorry." Chris isn't sorry for what she did but she is sorry for upsetting Elaine.
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Date: 2005-07-18 09:09 pm (UTC)She rubs her eyes. "Do you have pain, with that? I cannot imagine that it doesn't hurt," she asks in concern.
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Date: 2005-07-18 09:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-18 09:26 pm (UTC)She feels so horribly helpless, and just prays very hard that Ryan and the others come back safely and that the cure is able to be made quickly.
She doesn't intend to leave the room again until it's over.