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Post by Ekatarina "Kat" Dragomir on May 25, 2011 20:01:10 GMT -5
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Joy filled Kat, she was heading to the ballroom to dance, one of the few times she actually acted happy. Stereo in hand, shoes in the other, she padded into the large space. The floor was amazing, perfect for dancing, polished so much that it shone in the light. Setting down the stereo by an outlet, she laced up her shoes. Pressing the play button, music filled the hall. Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake rippled through the air.
Point, how I love you, she thought. Point was her favorite style of dance – it flowed, seamless. The first few steps were a little foggy, it’d been awhile since she’d danced this. Soon though, she was leaping and bounding throughout the hall. Laughter bubbled out from her lips, Kat loved this, it was too bad that she didn’t have a partner for the lifts. Dancing was one time that Kat became vulnerable, open. It was also when her powers were strongest. She could manipulate other’s dreams, when they were asleep and when they were awake.
”Ahh!”
Coming down off of a particularly hard jump, her ankle gave out. Kat crashed to the ground with a soft thud. Pain coursed through her, like needles. Taking a look at her ankle, she saw it was already swollen twice its size. This meant a trip to the school nurse, if she could walk. Kat tried to stand, to no avail. She ended up flat on her face. Ouch..I hope I didn’t break anything…
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Post by Dr. Lionel Randall on May 26, 2011 17:09:21 GMT -5
They say time’s a healer but my watch can’t tell the time
The left hand’s stuck six months agoand I can’t find the right
I don’t know anything
When he wasn't subbing for anyone, or when he wasn't needed in the infirmary (which wasn't as often as he would like- more than one he had been pulled out of a class he had been teaching to deal with an injury) Lionel liked to wander the hallways, reminiscing, most of the time, or thinking about people and places and things. He thought about people, most of the time, people and the world they were trapped in. Some of his professors at school had thought him a bit of a philosopher, the way he would criticize the world. Lionel wasn't, though- just a thinker.
Today, however, he was interrupted.
A scream came from the ballroom- not a terrified scream, just one of surprise and of pain. Lionel turned around and ran that way, just like he had been trained to. That's what coming to Alexandria did to you- you ran head first into the unknown, whatever it might be.
Today wasn't too bad. Today was just another injury. He could deal with injuries. The patient today was a senior girl, dancer by the music and the shoes (how the hell to they stand on those things, he has often asked himself, it looks completely impossible) so... ankle, probably, most likely twisted or sprained. He walked briskly through the open space, kneeling down by the girl. He knew her face, though he couldn't place a name- a Russian, Psychic wing. "It's Dr. Randall," he said, feeling the cells in his hands speed up in preparation for healing. "Do you think you can roll over so we can take care of that ankle?"
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