milliways_bar | (no subject)

[OOM: History will one day remember it as the last major offensive of the war, but for those who live through it there is only one thing to remember: death. So much death.]

The Makita who trudges into the bar today is almost unrecognizable as the girl who left only a few days ago. Her clothes and face are still spattered with the blood and grime of days of fighting in the streets, but that isn't uncommon for her.

No, the difference is that this Makita is hollow-eyed, almost empty. Her steps are slow and heavy, her eyes are blank, and she doesn't even appear to be aware that she's back in Milliways at all. A close look at her face will reveal the twin streaks of oddly clean skin running down her cheeks; the path the tears have scoured out.

She's not crying now. She has no tears left.

Makita has been many things in her life, but broken has never been one of them. Until now.

[This post open for days and days as it's sort of important to Makita, and likely to go slowtime since I'm still traveling. But don't let that deter you from tagging.]

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Her bright green eyes blink slowly, emptily, as she tries to process his question. Eventually she figures out what he wants to know, but she's too tired to shake her head so she simply mutters, almost inaudibly, "'m fine."

That's clearly a lie.

"No, lass, you're not. You need a good night's sleep, if nothing else."

He's considering carrying her to the infirmary.

She doesn't have the energy to argue. She doesn't have enough energy to look like she wants to argue. She also doesn't look like she could put up much of a fight of he picked her up, even if she wanted to.

And now that she's stopped, no longer moving inexorably forward, she looks like shes maybe a minute or so from collapsing.

"All right, then. It's the doctors for you."

It's no effort at all when he lifts her, carrying her like a baby.

Makita twitches as if her instinct is to fight him, but she's far too weak to do more than push weakly against him. A look at her face will reveal that it's just a reflex, she's not even really aware that she's been picked up.

And that just firms his resolve.

He turns towards the infirmary door, and starts walking.

Holding her as close as he is he's sure to notice just how cold her body is. She should be shivering, but she's too cold, and simply too exhausted, to do so.

He kicks the door open, since his arms are occupied.

"Got a girl here half-frozen to death!"