074 ☣ Snicker-snack

[fridgetothefire]

[Public video]

[The post comes thirty, maybe forty-five minutes after Kara's. Even with the major broken bones and butchery repaired, from just the shoulders up, Anya looks an absolute wreck. She has a swollen, mottled lump at her temple, ugly purple dripping under her skin like a watercolor stormcloud. Her throat is bruised too, the wide brumous darkness there slashed through with line of red lightning, gleaming and raw rather than simple rusting scab, where she thrashed against the rough iron wire binding her neck. Her mouth has a dab of blood that wasn't all washed away, her lip ragged where she chomped partway through it. Her hair is a sweat-matted mess. Most of all, though, is the look in her eye, an unhinged lurching snarl.]

This. Is done. Now. This thing, with Dean, it's me and him, and we are square. Whatever private wars you've got to settle, I don't care, but any one of you touches him in my name - no vengeance. None.

Or I will take it out of your fucking hide.

[She is not entirely sane right now. And she is not even remotely fucking around. The feed cuts out. And then, fifteen seconds later, still broadcast to everyone.]

Including you.


[Private to Ricki]

[Slumped, quieter]

...except you, I guess. Sorry.

But please don't.


[Private to Stiles]

[Also quiet, eyes downcast, exhausted.]

If he can't be bothered to tell you, I think he thought I was the admiral. That he could get free, save the people here. I know you have to do something, I know you'll do. Whatever you decide is best.

But I'd like to be. Informed.


[Private to Iris]

Thank you.


[Infirmary spam]

[She stays there about thirty-six hours, too worn out to do very much, letting the minor surface wounds that didn't get mended with magic stay cleaned and bandaged and iced. She'll see visitors if they come, will be wan and weary but lucid, without the vicious freneticism of the immediate aftermath. After that, she can't stand it any longer despite the advantages, retreats to the sanctuary of her cabin.]

Comments

voice

[rickitikitarr]

I'm sitting on the floor in the hall outside the infirmary, because they aren't sure if you should have visitors or not.

[fridgetothefire]

Please.

[mistconduct]

Well, there went my Dean v Sabretooth Cagematch of the Century plans.

[patheticvillain]

Chris, shut the fuck up.

[fridgetothefire]

[The back of her hand is streaked and smeared with blood even after rough, wiggling dissection cuts between the metatarsals were healed and the first crust scrubbed away; her wrist is still raw and oozing a little.

She gives him the finger.]

private

[patheticvillain]

I want to come see you.

private

[fridgetothefire]

Yes.

[Just yes. He should come, whenever he can, whenever he wants.]

[darknessb4me]

Are you angry about something no one's done yet?

voice only

[fridgetothefire]

Maybe.

[Quiet, now.]

I'm upset about a lot of things.

[video]

[tucky]

[This is yet another reason why Anya is one of Tiffany's direct models for wardening.]

... I don't got a shift right now, but if you need extra people helping you out, I can come in.

[video]

[fridgetothefire]

[Tiffany are you sure, this is not exactly her best role model behavior. There is, in fact, a not entirely trivial chance she could get her ass demoted carrying these threats out, if it came to that.]

Morgana's taken real good care of me. But I'm sure you'll see me sometime soon.

[private]

[routemistress]

I love 'im too.

[private]

[fridgetothefire]

I know.

And. Thank you for that, too.

[omar]

[Omar, maybe predictably, comes in person rather than calling. Not right away -- he gives her some time, waits respectfully for the worst of it to pass first. It's sometime the next day that he drops in on her, rapping his knuckles lightly on the end of the bed to alert her.]

Scorpions, huh?

[fridgetothefire]

[And then she starts to laugh. Just like she did when she realized what was really happening, that Dean thought she was the admiral. Omar is precisely and completely right, and she laughs and then coughs, too much for her ruined vocal cords, curls into an crescent ache.

When she can breathe again.]

Yeah. Scorpions.

private

[ukan]

It says a lot that you have to announce this so publicly.

private

[fridgetothefire]

I'm a revenge-minded person myself. I wanted to be explicit.

Private

[voluntaryapnea]

[And that is such an illogical but logical explanation for what's happened that it makes his head spin and he feels kind of nauseated. He does have to do something. He just has no idea what. When does he ever? He'd told Dean ages ago that he flies by the seat of his pants.

He's supposed to have a Plan B. He always has a Plan B.

He doesn't have a Plan B. He doesn't even have a Plan A. He paces his room for several long moments, rubbing his hands over his face and taking a handful of Adderall because this is all going to require more focus and concentration that he currently has.

You're the one who always figures it out. He can still hear Lydia's words from over a year ago in his head as clearly as though it was just yesterday. She's so wrong. He's not been good at figuring shit out for awhile now.

Fuck.]

Yeah. Yeah, of course. I'm -- [His voice cracks and he closes his eyes, forcing himself to take a couple deep breaths. Willing himself not to have a panic attack.]

I'm so sorry. God, Anya -- are you -- I mean of course you're not okay but. [He rakes a hand through his hair.] What can I do? For you?

Private

[fridgetothefire]

I'm.

I have a lot of good people. And this isn't my first switchblade rodeo.

[A little bit brittle; she is not okay. But steely, too. She doesn't need to be his priority.

Quieter, confessional.]

I still love him. I don't know if that'll make any sense to you. But I do. What you can do for me is - care about him. Let me know how he is until I can face him again. Soon, just, not now.

You don't have to know the right thing to do. Just - be trying, for him.

[Spam]

[semifreakingnormal]

[Scott isn't necessarily one for revenge: he feels that urge, same as anybody, he thinks he wouldn't be human or, or care right, if he didn't. But following through, especially here - it doesn't work. It doesn't accomplish anything.

Instead, he loiters around the animal clinic, waits until Anya is going better. At least there's magic, here; at least he doesn't have to see her in a medical coma, feel her suffering. (He still thinks of Isaac like that, some times. Still dreams about that kind of pain.)

When he finally stops pacing around the clinic's entrance, he heads right for her bed.]

Hey.

[He wants to offer, wants to take away her pain, but no one here lets him help.]

How are you doing?

[Spam]

[fridgetothefire]

I'm.

[She cracks, a little. Scott is - scott.]

I'm just really sad, Scott.

[Her voice lurches and quavers out of her.]

I'm scared of what's going to happen. For him. Maybe for me. I could get demoted over this.

[Not suffering, not threats. But carrying them out? And she might. Half-wild though she was - she wasn't bluffing. Dean hits something bottomless and ruthless in her, the part of her that could ruin worlds without flinching. His world is already a ruin; maybe that's part of what calls.]

[Spam!]

[youwillgotohell]

[Most of the time, when she heals someone, she doesn't have to get her hands dirty. When it's bad - when it's really bad - she's no different from any physician. There is blood on her hands by the time she finishes with Anya, stains and splotches flecked here and there across her dress.

She isn't healed fully, but it's exhaustion that finally makes Morgana stop. The worst of it is healed, enough that she'll survive, enough that some simple first aid will keep her going. She drops into a chair nearby, adrenaline still tingling through her finger tips.]

What still hurts?

[Spam!]

[fridgetothefire]

I don't know. Head? Everything's -

[Absences and echoes, one sort of overwhelming right into another. If her wrists didn't sting she's not sure she could remember where her hands are.]

Nothing else broken, I think.

[She wavers, heavy breaths, eyes closing and opening again.]

Anything else and I'll feel like I'm not even real, it's okay. You rest.

[Private]

[maytakecenturies]

[It's the look in her eyes that makes T'Pol respond at all, mad, animal-like, Human and not. Too Human, in some ways - too Vulcan in others. A bad Vulcan, indeed.]

Do you usually make threats while half-delirious? [It's casual, far from accusatory. She's just testing the waters.]

[Private]

[fridgetothefire]

Not sure. I don't often go only halfway.

[Dryly, prickly but more settled. Anya respects this motive.]

Infirmary spam

[punched_hitler]

[Steve's not so much a visitor - he'd like to be, but he won't kid himself into thinking he's a good friend of Anya's, just a friend - but he does have shifts in the infirmary, which means of course their "paths" cross at some point.

He's not a doctor, but he can at least make sure she's comfortable. So the next time Steve comes in for a shift, it's with a mug of hot chocolate that he sets by Anya's bed. If she wants to talk to him, she can, if she wants to ignore him (and the mug), he'll just get back to his shift, which generally entails keeping an eye on things and taking care of cleaning and inventory. At least he's better at being unobtrusive, these days.]

Infirmary spam

[fridgetothefire]

Oh.

[A little bit after his back is turned, when she realizes what it is. It's a soft, crushed sort of noise, a particular well-aimed dart of kindness she didn't expect, struck true. If he turns back, she's holding it to her chest with both hands, gingerly careful of her raw wrists, but soaking up the warmth and the smell of it. In a quiet voice,]

...thank you, Steve.

Video

[demolitions]

[He doesn't know her and he only barely knows Dean, but he needs to ask, because it's just too gruesome not to.]

Why did he do this to you?

Video

[fridgetothefire]

[Part of her just wants to scream again, to say It's between me and him a dozen times until onlookers back the fuck off, but it'll just make him look worse, like he broke her.

(He did. For a little while.)]

He thought I could set him free.

[cantcatchme]

[Pietro is there on and off while she's being treated. He's not going to abandon her during the first minutes she's halfway lucid. He watches her make the announcement, still a little to numb and strung out to let what she says sink in. He's just glad she's awake again.

And it's comforting, in an odd way, to see her snarl and spit. He'll take that any day, over how she was in the cell. He doesn't want to see her that meek and beaten down and utterly subdued again.]

Feel better?

[fridgetothefire]

I'll live.

[Bitter and bitter and dark; she's died plenty of times. Death would be easier. She's tempted, to take the toll and get it over with, but something rebels at the thought. So it's this, instead.]

Video

[fireincarnate]

[She's cleaned her face, pulled all of her power back inside, but her eyes are still red and her hands tremble as she listens. Part of her is indignant, viciously so; the rest of her wants to cry again.

Her voice breaks as she speaks, raw and ragged.]

I could have protected you.

Video

[fridgetothefire]

[Not in zero, she wants to say, he knew what he was doing. Which would be true, but not the truth.]

...I know.