Stories/Accepted/Recovery
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Recovery | DreamerThePhoenix
She could not think, for she had lost a part of her mind. Quite literally as the Vatula danced in their quiet chaos treating her, ordering around others as the Solomonari whispered magic near her face… Or at least, that’s a part of what she could recall.
Her memory was splotchy ever since those figures clad in cloaks and golden masks lifted her and whisked her away from the brink of death… The next was the chaos, questions thrown at her at every angle, with few words she could manage to throw back… She could recall someone coming to her once all had calmed down, where everyone didn’t have to worry about her imminent death. Talking to her about receiving a great honour, a special gift. Plans for a new eye, one gifted with special capabilities…
Yet, by the sounds of it, those plans seemed to have involved getting rid of at least one of the two eyes she had. A part of her wondered why not put it into the new space within the centre of her skull, there was certainly enough space before! Unless the healers had patched it up enough that wasn’t a viable option anymore… And besides, did she *really* want three eyes?
She sucked air through her teeth while she squeezed her eyes to the wave of pain that echoed in her damaged skull, yet it amused her to try and think, to ponder even when her mind throbbed. She should have been dead three times over, perhaps even more! And still, that rainy night had luck on her side, way too much luck. She couldn’t imagine the horrors of what could have happened with the number of enemies that clanked and scraped and killed without mercy. She had to watch their brutality from afar, the fire, the shouted last orders before being turned into mist, the skull crushing, the pops of gunfire.
She sat propped now and listened quietly to the one Vatula still around somewhere within these walls. Because the silence made her own ears ring otherwise. She truly felt she should be dead. She didn’t believe she was worthy of the new eye, The Eye of The All-Seeing. Just because she managed to out live her team, eleven to two. And she had no idea what happened to the second guy, another Vatula, other than he was still alive… And at least he was able to do what he was tasked with, grab the high value item and get out. She? All she was able to do was shoot at that *beast* and *miss* before shots were fired her way. One barely grazed her cheek, and the other…?
There was more effort in attempting to lift her arm than usual, all the adrenaline and rush had left hours ago, which left her body weak, almost unresponsive with how *tired* she was. Those who had healed her had done well but had warned her not to push herself too much for awhile in case of… something. She couldn’t remember. But she did know they had solemnly told her that there would be a scar, her face forever changed from now on.
The effort she exuded caused a pained grunt to escape her, one of the few sounds she could make other than some caveman speech that had become her default during the chaos of questions when she had been brought in. The sound startled the Vatula to her side, gently trying to assess what she wanted or needed. And the Vulture grunted some more, trying to painfully connect words within her brain to her mouth, lips and tongue. Till she had managed to speak two words in a whisper, “F-feel… Scar…?”
And with a quiet nod, the Vatula lifted her arm up for her ever so slightly, just enough for Saknisu to be able to lift and guide her own limb to her head. To feel what treatments had been done to her so far. She found her wound still stung under the bandages placed there, which made her consider what she looked like.
What did her state look like? Did she look as haggled as she felt? What of her new face? A face of someone who almost shook the Reapers hand, yet the Reaper was the one who turned away. Bemused to see what would happen if he didn’t bother to take her just yet, encouraging her survival. And, well, based on what she could feel and what she was told, it was a wicked scar so far. An actual indent into her own head, yet it no longer allowed air to breathe freely to the slim space between the two hemispheres of her own brain. Which again, she recited the only reason she was still alive was pure, dumb, *stupid*, luck. And kindly enough, the bullet didn’t punch through her brainstem. She assumed it got stuck in her head, she had been at a distance after all upon that dune, or maybe it did punch through... She couldn't tell yet. The pain made her doubt, throbbing into her eyes now.
Satisfied with that, she whispered a quiet “thank” and lowered her own arm, making a dismissing grunt to when the Vatula asked if she needed anything else.
And with that, she continued to ponder, and think, in a bemused and confused manner that reflected on her face. Recalling the moment she awoke, bullet in head, and finding doom looming mere moments away that her only delusional thought was to resort to digging. Where she dug what she had thought to be her own grave. Hearing only her own rushing blood, her scarce breath and the vibration of machines making their last assumed rounds for stragglers like her. And who knows what else happened as she laid buried in the sand for what felt like an hour.
She figured that having been spared death that second time was by the mere fact of her background, being the low oxygen mountains before this hell of a new life. And even then! The third time death brushed her off was as her body started to finally fail only to be found just in time…
The Reaper must’ve been pleased with that result. He must have been laughing so hard it rattled his own bones.
She coughed the sparse laughs she could manage herself, which once more caught the Vatula’s attention with a worried glance.
Yeah… She really should be dead.