Healing [Open]

[rictor]

Julio wasn't entirely sure how long he'd been here--a week, maybe a week-and-a-half. It felt like years, though. Excruciatingly long, painful, tension-filled, quiet years. He wondered if he would go crazier if he just sat in bed, waiting on edge for every little sound.

He'd been ordered to relax and just breathe, it would help him heal faster. Julio thought he was healed more than enough, anyway. The minor bruises had faded to sickly yellow and the scabs on the smaller gashes had shrunk a little every day. And, if he didn't move too fast or bump into anything, he could hardly tell his ribs were cracked.

And how was anyone supposed to relax with all that quiet? Didn't these people know that quiet places were where you got jumped?

Julio frowned down at the blanket piled in his lap, curling his fists in the folds. Carefully, he stretched his legs out in front of him and then pulled them back up towards his chest, as far as his cracked ribs would allow. Stretched his legs out again, and then pulled them back again.

He could only keep it up for a few minutes. His ribs ached with the effort, and Julio's mind had gone slightly fuzzy with tiredness. Maybe he did need to stay there for a couple more days. But no more, or he really was going to go crazy.

[Nightcrawler]

It would seem that Kurt Wagner wasn’t the only new addition to the school. The thought should have been somewhat warming to him. But! Because he was unaware of the fact there was no relief for the self-inflicted tension he had put on his furry blue form. Fortunately, his entrance to the Institute hadn’t also come with injury… well, no more than he was used to. With being new, there also came with the sad problem of getting constantly lost.

With a loud BAMF the mutant broke the silence in the infirmary and a hopeful demonic looking mutant peered out of the wake of sulfuric smoke. He stood his full height and crinkled his blue nose to distinguish that he was in the wrong place. “Verdammen Sie es,” he grumbled to himself before doing a quick cross with his hand in apology for the curse. He then looked over to one of the young man on one of the hospital beds. “Ahm. Sorry,” he apologized with a lopsided smile and crouched down to all fours.

As if this stance were entirely natural, he sauntered over to the boy and leaned back on his legs and rose just a bit to gain a bit of height. “Hallo,” he greeted as his head tilted just slightly to the side while the teenager had finally just taken stock to where he was. His shell was peeling back just a bit, to let the brighter nature creep out just a bit. Little did he know that he had just broken the monotone drone of the fluorescent lights and the maddening quiet that would have driven Kurt insane by now.

((sorry it’s a bit weak. ))

[rictor]

Julio winced at the unfamiliar noise and jumped halfway out of the bed before his ribs protested. Wrapping one arm carefully around his ribs, he reached for the nearest thing he could use as a weapon, a Bic pen on the beside table.

After a second, Julio realized that he wasn't in danger and loosened his grip on the pen, letting it fall into his lap. They couldn't find him here, even if they were looking, Julio thought. And even if they could find Julio, even if they were still looking, none of them could just appear like that (if they could, they would've done it). It must be somebody who was supposed to be here, another student maybe.

The brief, fluttering moment of panic over, Julio looked closely the student (he supposed) in front of him. And nearly reached for the pen again. One of the caretakers at the orphanage had been deeply religious, she'd shown him pictures of demons that looked like this. Except that, this person in front of him had talked, had seemed nice. Or, at least, hadn't threatened him; just scared him.

"De nada," Julio answered quietly. He struggled to remember his rusty English, he doubted whoever this was spoke Spanish. "I'm Julio."