A Change of Perspective
Feb 6, 2008 17:31:51 GMT
Post by Musashi on Feb 6, 2008 17:31:51 GMT
Musashi lay in his cot, shivering. He was cold, so unbelievably cold. He pulled a blanket around his shoulders, trying to warm himself. The gi he was wearing clung in all the wrong places. It felt unnatural compared to the robes he'd worn everyday for the past few years. Realizing he wasn't going to warm up, Musashi stood up, wobbling on his legs. His body felt weak and achy, as if he was in the midst of a long illness, and yet, physically he was fine. The saiyan walked unsteadily into the small kitchen attached to his Dojo apartment. He braced himself against the small stove and reached down to ignite a burner, placing a kettle atop the cheerful blue flames. The effort of remaining on his feet clearly taxed the tall saiyan, his legs quaking as beads of sweat formed across his brow.
When the kettle finally sang, Musashi moved slowly to his small kitchen table and placed a mug beside it. He gingerly lowered himself into the plain wooden chairs he kept. For a moment, the saiyan seemed lost in the act of making tea, pouring the water over the teabag and steeping it in the boiling water. He'd been obsessing for days, and still, his mind was dragged back to his inglorious return to Eden.
Musashi's stirred briefly, but couldn't quite pull himself together. Some part of his mind realized that he was incredibly cold, and soaking wet, but he couldn't quite make that connection. The more rational side of his brain realized he should get up, get moving, and figure out where he was. The saiyan's limbs stirred briefly, but he was unable to rise and he quickly succumbed to unconsciousness, slipping back into darkness...
Ross Williams maneuvered his family's hovercar with a controlled furry, aggressively switching from lane to lane on the four lane highway. His wife, Annette stared out the window, in silent protest to his aggressive driving habits. In a booster seat in the rear, Ross's daughter, Rebecca cooed to her dolls, lost in her fantasy wonder world.
“Daddy!, Daddy! Stop the car, stop the car!” the little girl yelled out.
Ross slammed on the breaks and jerked to the side, in an instinctual reaction to his daughter's forceful shouts. He turned to look at the backseat, “What is it sweetie?”
“Daddy, there's a man on the side of the road” She struggled with her harness, “He might need help”
“Settle down dear, we don't know what's going on, we shouldn't get involved” He said, reaching back to comfort her. He was too slow, however and she slipped out of her harness and jerked at the door handle, full of 6 year old enthusiasm. By the time he realized what happened, she was sprinting away from the car.
“Oh sh**!” muttered Ross, as his wife started to yell.
“Dear stop, he could be dangerous, come back to the car!”
Ross leapt from the driver's seat and ran after her daughter. He could see now her destination, and with his longer strides he managed to intercept his daughter. He scooped her up, “Darling that was really dangerous, you don't' know that man. Promise you won't run away from daddy again.” Ross said with a forced frown. Despite his driven personality, he could never find it in himself to be angry at his child.
“I promise daddy,” Rebecca replied with all the innocence of a child, “But look, he's hurt.”
At this point Annette arrived and Ross passed his daughter off to her. “You stay with mommy now, and let daddy take a look. Stay back.” Really, he'd rather have moved on, but he could leave his little girl worried.
Ross got a better view of the man her daughter had seen as he approached. The man lay naked in the thick mud at the side of the road, his black hair matted with mud. His body was tall and lithe, with corded muscle that implied he was obviously strong. Scars crisscrossed the skin that wasn't already covered in mud and blood. The blood made a gruesome contrast to the dark-tan mud and dirt, it flowed red from what seemed to be a thousand shallow wounds all across the man's body and he had a...tail.
Ross to gestured to his wife, “Call an ambulance dear, quickly, this man has been very very hurt.”
As his wife walked back to their car, Ross, grabbed his daughter and took her to the side, trying to explain to her in childish terms what she had seen.
Musashi awoke in a bed to the sound of a rhythmic electronic beeping. Looking up he realized the beeping was his own pulse displaying on a monitor above his head. The saiyan attempted to shift, but feeling the weakness in his body, he lay still. Looking down he saw the tubes entering both of his arms, pumping fluid into his veins.
Something felt....wrong, but the Saiyan couldn't quite place it. Before he had time to ponder that thought, he heard the door swing. A short, brunette nurse walked in, all business with her clipboard. Upon seeing his eyes open she half started, “Oh...you're awake.”
Musashi wondered, “Should I be worried that she seemed so startled?”
“We've given you enough morphine to keep a horse down for two days. You're lucky to be alive given the amount of blood you lost. You should try to sleep.” She said, and walked over to tweak something on the electronics above him.
Musashi started to protest, but the flow of additional painkillers into his system killed his will to fight. Just as he slipped into unconsciousness, Musashi felt the slight spark of enlightenment. He recognized what was wrong....he couldn't sense it when the nurse walked into the door, or anything around him. Why hadn't his healing factor kicked in yet? With these last dying thoughts, he sliped into unconsciousness.
Musashi emerged from his thoughts and looked at his tea. He'd over-steeped it as he'd wandered down memory lane. It had been two weeks since he'd been back and his physical wounds were down to a dull pain at this point. It was the psychological wound, however that Musashi could not come to terms with, could not heal.
When the kettle finally sang, Musashi moved slowly to his small kitchen table and placed a mug beside it. He gingerly lowered himself into the plain wooden chairs he kept. For a moment, the saiyan seemed lost in the act of making tea, pouring the water over the teabag and steeping it in the boiling water. He'd been obsessing for days, and still, his mind was dragged back to his inglorious return to Eden.
Flashback
[/i]Musashi's stirred briefly, but couldn't quite pull himself together. Some part of his mind realized that he was incredibly cold, and soaking wet, but he couldn't quite make that connection. The more rational side of his brain realized he should get up, get moving, and figure out where he was. The saiyan's limbs stirred briefly, but he was unable to rise and he quickly succumbed to unconsciousness, slipping back into darkness...
Ross Williams maneuvered his family's hovercar with a controlled furry, aggressively switching from lane to lane on the four lane highway. His wife, Annette stared out the window, in silent protest to his aggressive driving habits. In a booster seat in the rear, Ross's daughter, Rebecca cooed to her dolls, lost in her fantasy wonder world.
“Daddy!, Daddy! Stop the car, stop the car!” the little girl yelled out.
Ross slammed on the breaks and jerked to the side, in an instinctual reaction to his daughter's forceful shouts. He turned to look at the backseat, “What is it sweetie?”
“Daddy, there's a man on the side of the road” She struggled with her harness, “He might need help”
“Settle down dear, we don't know what's going on, we shouldn't get involved” He said, reaching back to comfort her. He was too slow, however and she slipped out of her harness and jerked at the door handle, full of 6 year old enthusiasm. By the time he realized what happened, she was sprinting away from the car.
“Oh sh**!” muttered Ross, as his wife started to yell.
“Dear stop, he could be dangerous, come back to the car!”
Ross leapt from the driver's seat and ran after her daughter. He could see now her destination, and with his longer strides he managed to intercept his daughter. He scooped her up, “Darling that was really dangerous, you don't' know that man. Promise you won't run away from daddy again.” Ross said with a forced frown. Despite his driven personality, he could never find it in himself to be angry at his child.
“I promise daddy,” Rebecca replied with all the innocence of a child, “But look, he's hurt.”
At this point Annette arrived and Ross passed his daughter off to her. “You stay with mommy now, and let daddy take a look. Stay back.” Really, he'd rather have moved on, but he could leave his little girl worried.
Ross got a better view of the man her daughter had seen as he approached. The man lay naked in the thick mud at the side of the road, his black hair matted with mud. His body was tall and lithe, with corded muscle that implied he was obviously strong. Scars crisscrossed the skin that wasn't already covered in mud and blood. The blood made a gruesome contrast to the dark-tan mud and dirt, it flowed red from what seemed to be a thousand shallow wounds all across the man's body and he had a...tail.
Ross to gestured to his wife, “Call an ambulance dear, quickly, this man has been very very hurt.”
As his wife walked back to their car, Ross, grabbed his daughter and took her to the side, trying to explain to her in childish terms what she had seen.
12 Hours Later
Musashi awoke in a bed to the sound of a rhythmic electronic beeping. Looking up he realized the beeping was his own pulse displaying on a monitor above his head. The saiyan attempted to shift, but feeling the weakness in his body, he lay still. Looking down he saw the tubes entering both of his arms, pumping fluid into his veins.
Something felt....wrong, but the Saiyan couldn't quite place it. Before he had time to ponder that thought, he heard the door swing. A short, brunette nurse walked in, all business with her clipboard. Upon seeing his eyes open she half started, “Oh...you're awake.”
Musashi wondered, “Should I be worried that she seemed so startled?”
“We've given you enough morphine to keep a horse down for two days. You're lucky to be alive given the amount of blood you lost. You should try to sleep.” She said, and walked over to tweak something on the electronics above him.
Musashi started to protest, but the flow of additional painkillers into his system killed his will to fight. Just as he slipped into unconsciousness, Musashi felt the slight spark of enlightenment. He recognized what was wrong....he couldn't sense it when the nurse walked into the door, or anything around him. Why hadn't his healing factor kicked in yet? With these last dying thoughts, he sliped into unconsciousness.
The Dojo
Musashi emerged from his thoughts and looked at his tea. He'd over-steeped it as he'd wandered down memory lane. It had been two weeks since he'd been back and his physical wounds were down to a dull pain at this point. It was the psychological wound, however that Musashi could not come to terms with, could not heal.