Eʟᴇɴᴀ Gɪʟʙᴇʀᴛ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
forgetyourusedtobe) wrote2014-05-20 02:07 pm
forgetyourusedtobe) wrote2014-05-20 02:07 pm
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[Since writing in her diary, Elena hasn't been able to touch it. She had taken to writing into it every day again after she turned her humanity back on. It's helped her keep herself afloat, express things that she knows she needs to so she never feels herself pushed back in the wrong direction again. But she's still feeling a little too empty and numb from Dean's departure. She's handling it better than she thought she would. But there's still just something so very important and essential missing now. She tells herself it will take time and she halfway believes herself.]
[Today, Elena is attempting to write in her diary. She's moved out from her room and is sitting on the deck with it. Her back is against the arm of one of the benches, knees brought close so she has something to write on. But all she's managed is the date. After a while, she closes it and lowers her legs, tucking the diary and her pen underneath them and instead decides to watch the sky above.]
[Eventually, she goes to the library and plucks out the copy of Pride and Prejudice she might as well just keep with how many times she's taken it off the shelf. She used to love it. Then she hated it. Now it was just something familiar and she was content enough to curl up with it in one of the chairs. She doesn't even bother to put it down once she gets hungry enough to make her way to the mess hall. Elena's senses are sharp enough that she can multitask reading and not crashing into anyone in the hallways. She takes her pint of blood substitute and makes her way back to her cabin. Elena's still not one to drink in front of other people if only because she knows it's probably off-putting and likely nauseating to them.]
[Today, Elena is attempting to write in her diary. She's moved out from her room and is sitting on the deck with it. Her back is against the arm of one of the benches, knees brought close so she has something to write on. But all she's managed is the date. After a while, she closes it and lowers her legs, tucking the diary and her pen underneath them and instead decides to watch the sky above.]
[Eventually, she goes to the library and plucks out the copy of Pride and Prejudice she might as well just keep with how many times she's taken it off the shelf. She used to love it. Then she hated it. Now it was just something familiar and she was content enough to curl up with it in one of the chairs. She doesn't even bother to put it down once she gets hungry enough to make her way to the mess hall. Elena's senses are sharp enough that she can multitask reading and not crashing into anyone in the hallways. She takes her pint of blood substitute and makes her way back to her cabin. Elena's still not one to drink in front of other people if only because she knows it's probably off-putting and likely nauseating to them.]
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I mentioned the bars. This beach wasn't quite so abandoned, when I was here. [He nods toward distant mountains.] Fethiye has some hundred thousand people living in it.
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[In other words, just how much of a mess was he?]
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A woman and her cousin found me. I met her mother when I woke up as she cleaned my wounds.
[Pretty dang bad, but he's good at making light of that shit.]
I was very concerned as to the whereabouts of my trousers. [Before he lost consciousness again, anyway.]
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[She'd give him a look over it if that wasn't so predictable. As it is, Elena just shakes her head.]
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[He smiles as if he can sense the look she'd be giving him.]
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[Assuming he even sees a doctor regularly. She's leaning towards that not being the case.]
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Usually it's just whatever hospital he's near when he's hurt. The last physical he took was - well, MI6's physicals are a bit more grueling than the norm.]
I'm sure he would. [if he existed....]
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How long did you stay there? In Turkey, I mean.
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[Much longer than he needed to. A call in the first week would have seen him moved to a top facility in a familiar country. He hadn't wanted it.]
It was very relaxing. [He's dry, almost bitter.]
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[He shrugs, entirely too nonchalant for the topic.]
They thought I was dead.
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No, no. MI6 thought I was dead.
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[If it were anyone else, she might sound more surprised. But as it is, her tone is more scolding than anything else.]
That's kinda an extreme way to play hooky, don't you think?
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Can't say it didn't work.
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