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Entry tags:
( CLOSED )
Who: dante, nero and nico
When: sometime in august
Where: the cottage
What: dante wakes up from his fever, he gets bitched at, no profit
Warnings: tba!
[dante remembers very little of the past several weeks—pushing in and out of sleep in a restless, dazed manner, never quite focusing on any one thing. all he remembers is how burning hot everything felt, the familiar distorted voices of two individuals nearby, the pain that seemed to be etched in his bones and muscles, and the commonplace nightmares the plagued him relentless ammunition to his current helpless state.]
[and then it all went away.]
[he's lethargic as he sits up on the bed, looking around the room he finds himself in: cozy, lived in, and decidedly not at all like what he remembers last. dante pushes a calloused hand against his forehead in the same breath as he throws legs over the side of the bed, slumping over with eyes shut tight to navigate through the feeling of being tipped over six inches off himself. at least he's good enough to get up on his feet, the creak of the floorboards under his weight—no real sense of urgency nor danger in his radar, and so, for once, he heads into the shower seemingly unperturbed by the sight of scales adorning part of his arms, embedded into skin.]
[the stairs receive the brunt of his weight as he heads down to the first floor, borrowing some clothes he found in the room. his hair is longer, white bangs covering his eyes, all headstrong intentions of making it through the door and out of the cottage unless interrupted.]
When: sometime in august
Where: the cottage
What: dante wakes up from his fever, he gets bitched at, no profit
Warnings: tba!
[dante remembers very little of the past several weeks—pushing in and out of sleep in a restless, dazed manner, never quite focusing on any one thing. all he remembers is how burning hot everything felt, the familiar distorted voices of two individuals nearby, the pain that seemed to be etched in his bones and muscles, and the commonplace nightmares the plagued him relentless ammunition to his current helpless state.]
[and then it all went away.]
[he's lethargic as he sits up on the bed, looking around the room he finds himself in: cozy, lived in, and decidedly not at all like what he remembers last. dante pushes a calloused hand against his forehead in the same breath as he throws legs over the side of the bed, slumping over with eyes shut tight to navigate through the feeling of being tipped over six inches off himself. at least he's good enough to get up on his feet, the creak of the floorboards under his weight—no real sense of urgency nor danger in his radar, and so, for once, he heads into the shower seemingly unperturbed by the sight of scales adorning part of his arms, embedded into skin.]
[the stairs receive the brunt of his weight as he heads down to the first floor, borrowing some clothes he found in the room. his hair is longer, white bangs covering his eyes, all headstrong intentions of making it through the door and out of the cottage unless interrupted.]