05.Mar.12, 05:39 AM
Talian woke himself with coughing. He let out a raspy half-whimper as he jolted to consciousness, his throat on fire and his abdomen aching terribly. It took him a moment to realize where he was.
Oh yes. Alive.
On his second day on Pern, he woke alone. B'jin wasn't there with him this time, though Tal completely understood why. B'jin deserved some alone time after that mess, and Tal expected nothing else from him. Val and Eri were supposed to be watching after him in shifts, but neither had arrived yet. The sun was barely starting to rise in the sky and neither struck Tal as a morning person, so doubtless they just hadn't arrived yet.
He was fine with that. He didn't feel particularly emotionally fragile and considered himself no risk for relapse, but that was a self-diagnosis. He didn't blame the others for worrying and he would love their company. He felt tranquil but uncertain; he had nothing ahead of him to speak of, aside from life itself. He was alive. Alive. His problems weren't gone, but his desire to deal with them through suicide was.
What to do now? Especially while bedridden?
He wanted badly to clear his throat, but it hurt enough as it was. It would be nice to have some medicine, but he figured that was a distant prospect, so he closed his eyes and tried to think bout something else.
I figure Lym can come in and ask about what happened, or maybe even bring him medicine. Whatever you think works
Oh yes. Alive.
On his second day on Pern, he woke alone. B'jin wasn't there with him this time, though Tal completely understood why. B'jin deserved some alone time after that mess, and Tal expected nothing else from him. Val and Eri were supposed to be watching after him in shifts, but neither had arrived yet. The sun was barely starting to rise in the sky and neither struck Tal as a morning person, so doubtless they just hadn't arrived yet.
He was fine with that. He didn't feel particularly emotionally fragile and considered himself no risk for relapse, but that was a self-diagnosis. He didn't blame the others for worrying and he would love their company. He felt tranquil but uncertain; he had nothing ahead of him to speak of, aside from life itself. He was alive. Alive. His problems weren't gone, but his desire to deal with them through suicide was.
What to do now? Especially while bedridden?
He wanted badly to clear his throat, but it hurt enough as it was. It would be nice to have some medicine, but he figured that was a distant prospect, so he closed his eyes and tried to think bout something else.
I figure Lym can come in and ask about what happened, or maybe even bring him medicine. Whatever you think works