[antiseptic. a steady beeping. carol knows this sort of environment all too well. it's not her first time in a hospital bed or even her first near death experience. she scans her surroundings as she struggles to her feet, legs wobbling from lack of use.
a memory comes unbidden as she scans the room, one that hasn't reared its ugly head in quite some time, but comes roaring back thanks to the familiar setting. is this the work of the kree?
she reaches instinctively for a spot near her ear, and when she doesn't find the inhibitor there, carol breathes a sigh of relief — albeit a short lived one as her attempt to light her fist ablaze is met with nothing more than a painful burning in her chest. it's a sobering realization, but one that she's not willing to waste more time dwelling on, not when whoever's brought her to this place has seen fit to leave the doors unlocked.
she pads down the eerily deserted halls, trying and failing to open any other doors, when an alarm sounds. her immediate instinct? hug the wall, and it's a good thing she does, because with the loud blaring comes the scurring of something. lots of somethings.
and they're buzzing.
they could be harmless, but she doesn't want to stay to find out, running like her life depends on it.
she rounds a corner and slams right into a solid body.]
Shit. Sorry. I didn't hit you too hard did I?
ii. can you please release me? (safehouse)
[like her rather unfortunate wake up call, the safehouse feels a lot like a page from her past, though, thankfully this one's more like all communal housing. not enough privacy and only okay food.
carol settles in as best she can, taking the first top bunk she can find because of an instinctive need to be that bit closer to the sky. if she can't light her fists on fire and she can't fly, she can at least have this. even if this is sad in comparison. not that she spends much time in her bunk, the realization that she's been someone's lab rat for months on end has her fighting off any urge to rest.
she basically lives in the common area, eagerly awaiting any tidbits about the outside world that she's only had a fleeting moment to experience before she was ushered like the rest of the new arrivals into the safehouse. to pass the time she mostly works out, push ups and crunches to rebuild her weakened muscles. she's mid-set when someone stumbles their way onto the couch that she's currently using to hold down her feet.]
Thirty five. Thirty six.
[sometime later, well after most people have gone to bed for the evening, a post-shower carol can be found staring in the mirror at her hair — stringy and sad. she huffs at her reflection, bringing a pair of scissors up to chop away at the image before her. with each lock that falls, carol feels marginally better, at least until the relative peace is interrupted by the door opening and a blast of cold air hitting her square in the face.
carol grips the towel more tightly around her body.]
Wow. Knock much? [it's official. she hates new amsterdam.]
iii. i hold my hands down (wildcard)
[what it says on the tin. hit me up on discord at burritopeter#1853 or at rambaldis. i'm down for whatever. dick punches, drinking, dance dance revolution. okay maybe not that last one, but carol will sing if your character is the type who likes karaoke.]
carol danvers | mcu
[antiseptic. a steady beeping. carol knows this sort of environment all too well. it's not her first time in a hospital bed or even her first near death experience. she scans her surroundings as she struggles to her feet, legs wobbling from lack of use.
a memory comes unbidden as she scans the room, one that hasn't reared its ugly head in quite some time, but comes roaring back thanks to the familiar setting. is this the work of the kree?
she reaches instinctively for a spot near her ear, and when she doesn't find the inhibitor there, carol breathes a sigh of relief — albeit a short lived one as her attempt to light her fist ablaze is met with nothing more than a painful burning in her chest. it's a sobering realization, but one that she's not willing to waste more time dwelling on, not when whoever's brought her to this place has seen fit to leave the doors unlocked.
she pads down the eerily deserted halls, trying and failing to open any other doors, when an alarm sounds. her immediate instinct? hug the wall, and it's a good thing she does, because with the loud blaring comes the scurring of something. lots of somethings.
and they're buzzing.
they could be harmless, but she doesn't want to stay to find out, running like her life depends on it.
she rounds a corner and slams right into a solid body.]
Shit. Sorry. I didn't hit you too hard did I?
ii. can you please release me? (safehouse)
[like her rather unfortunate wake up call, the safehouse feels a lot like a page from her past, though, thankfully this one's more like all communal housing. not enough privacy and only okay food.
carol settles in as best she can, taking the first top bunk she can find because of an instinctive need to be that bit closer to the sky. if she can't light her fists on fire and she can't fly, she can at least have this. even if this is sad in comparison. not that she spends much time in her bunk, the realization that she's been someone's lab rat for months on end has her fighting off any urge to rest.
she basically lives in the common area, eagerly awaiting any tidbits about the outside world that she's only had a fleeting moment to experience before she was ushered like the rest of the new arrivals into the safehouse. to pass the time she mostly works out, push ups and crunches to rebuild her weakened muscles. she's mid-set when someone stumbles their way onto the couch that she's currently using to hold down her feet.]
Thirty five. Thirty six.
[sometime later, well after most people have gone to bed for the evening, a post-shower carol can be found staring in the mirror at her hair — stringy and sad. she huffs at her reflection, bringing a pair of scissors up to chop away at the image before her. with each lock that falls, carol feels marginally better, at least until the relative peace is interrupted by the door opening and a blast of cold air hitting her square in the face.
carol grips the towel more tightly around her body.]
Wow. Knock much? [it's official. she hates new amsterdam.]
iii. i hold my hands down (wildcard)
[what it says on the tin. hit me up on discord at burritopeter#1853 or at