Post by dc on Nov 16, 2010 20:23:08 GMT -8
Saturday, July 2, 2011
11:30 a.m.
Boring, boring, boring.
DC didn’t know why he was being kept here anymore. St. Mungo’s was for those who were injured, not those who had healed but were unwanted at home. He couldn’t even get his radio to work, and that sucked royally.
Idly, he tapped his wand on the window sill as he stared out over London. His attack and abduction to the middle of the American wilderness had been last month, and yet he was still in the hospital getting fawned over by nurses. They weren’t even cute nurses. Oh, the indignity. At least he hadn’t had James’ fate, getting his head transfigured into that of a badger. Or Drake’s…broken jaws and shattered teeth aside, the kid was still messed up from the Veritaserum. Apparently, he was allergic to belladonna. Who knew you could be allergic to a potion’s ingredient?
No, he had survived the entire ordeal with nothing more than a cut on his hand, and his mother…ugh.
Despite the warnings of overexerting himself, the youth levered himself out of the hospital bed and began wandering the facility. If anyone dared admonish him and send him back to bed like a good little boy, he’d start another trashcan fire. Seriously.
While he was taking the risk of being up and about, he transfigured the hospital gown into a more tolerable set of clothing: Black jeans, red shirt with the anarchy symbol on the sleeve, and black tennis shoes. Ready to rock… He gave his hair a jaunty run through with his free hand and began exploring.
11:30 a.m.
Boring, boring, boring.
DC didn’t know why he was being kept here anymore. St. Mungo’s was for those who were injured, not those who had healed but were unwanted at home. He couldn’t even get his radio to work, and that sucked royally.
Idly, he tapped his wand on the window sill as he stared out over London. His attack and abduction to the middle of the American wilderness had been last month, and yet he was still in the hospital getting fawned over by nurses. They weren’t even cute nurses. Oh, the indignity. At least he hadn’t had James’ fate, getting his head transfigured into that of a badger. Or Drake’s…broken jaws and shattered teeth aside, the kid was still messed up from the Veritaserum. Apparently, he was allergic to belladonna. Who knew you could be allergic to a potion’s ingredient?
No, he had survived the entire ordeal with nothing more than a cut on his hand, and his mother…ugh.
Despite the warnings of overexerting himself, the youth levered himself out of the hospital bed and began wandering the facility. If anyone dared admonish him and send him back to bed like a good little boy, he’d start another trashcan fire. Seriously.
While he was taking the risk of being up and about, he transfigured the hospital gown into a more tolerable set of clothing: Black jeans, red shirt with the anarchy symbol on the sleeve, and black tennis shoes. Ready to rock… He gave his hair a jaunty run through with his free hand and began exploring.