"Where.....?" Korite looked around. Or at least attempted to. Everything was dark, and eerily quiet. he knows he spoke, but he couldn't hear his own voice. He felt the familiar feeling of a bed, but it was all wrong. He didn't feel it like he should. He put his hand out, and felt a flat smooth surface. he felt some pressure, but no texture. It was like his mind was cut off from the outside world, until his fingers met a familiar shape. His hearing aids. Ko squeezed it for a moment, and felt around more. A bottle, glasses, a long pole. They each appeared in his memory at touch. The cane, his shades, his Novocaine. Cautiously, Ko leaned up while putting the hearing aid to his side. In the flash of clarity as blood rushed to his head, Korite saw.
With his eyes he could see for a brief moment. Rows of beds, dividers, streams of light coming from windows, and the low drone of a fan. There was the constant sound of indiscernible speech as people walked and talked through the halls. And then it was ripped away again. Silence, dark. He tried, and watched as sense came to normal, then even more than normal. Sound became sight. Hearing became touch. It was a mess, as if someone dribbled superglue on cotton. Everything became a cohesive bundle that was painfully burning.
He stopped and fell to his side on the bed, crying out audible to all but him. He tried to stand, and was greeted with the faint feel of cold tile on his face. Up was briefly in front of him, above him, and then where his back faced. He tried to kneel up , and had trouble orienting himself. The only sensation that was present was balance, but with no reference it was wildly swaying every which way. When it finally settled and he was aware that up wasn't down and vice versa, Korite thought.
He thought about where he was. Some kind of medical office? No, an infirmary. Something in the back of his head correcting him, saying 'the' infirmary. Of a school. No, 'the' school. They both felt personal. Personal... Himself. For the first time since a harsh awakening, Korite had a thought about himself. Korite Kijutsu. A mess. An utter mess. That's what sent him here. Himself.
With his eyes he could see for a brief moment. Rows of beds, dividers, streams of light coming from windows, and the low drone of a fan. There was the constant sound of indiscernible speech as people walked and talked through the halls. And then it was ripped away again. Silence, dark. He tried, and watched as sense came to normal, then even more than normal. Sound became sight. Hearing became touch. It was a mess, as if someone dribbled superglue on cotton. Everything became a cohesive bundle that was painfully burning.
He stopped and fell to his side on the bed, crying out audible to all but him. He tried to stand, and was greeted with the faint feel of cold tile on his face. Up was briefly in front of him, above him, and then where his back faced. He tried to kneel up , and had trouble orienting himself. The only sensation that was present was balance, but with no reference it was wildly swaying every which way. When it finally settled and he was aware that up wasn't down and vice versa, Korite thought.
He thought about where he was. Some kind of medical office? No, an infirmary. Something in the back of his head correcting him, saying 'the' infirmary. Of a school. No, 'the' school. They both felt personal. Personal... Himself. For the first time since a harsh awakening, Korite had a thought about himself. Korite Kijutsu. A mess. An utter mess. That's what sent him here. Himself.
