JUNE EVENT: CAMP

[sailmods]

early on June 10th, Friday's morning announcements end with a request for everyone going on the latest excursion to meet her in the atrium. she seems in noticeably better spirits than she had been last time, and she leads them cheerfully to the tender. once they are all aboard, and the door is securely shut, the interior fills with gas, and, perhaps, their last thought before they slip into unconsciousness is "oh shit, not again."

passengers wake up on a rickety old school bus, driving down a dirt road surrounded by woods. what is it that they notice first? that, no matter what they were wearing before, they are now wearing a camp t-shirt and legitimately horrifyingly short shorts? the overstuffed backpack between their knees? the words "take one down and pass it around" dying on their lips? the fact that Friday is absolutely driving the bus?

or, maybe the fact that it's already slowing down, pulling up in front of a massive wooden sign, saying:

 

 

 

 

 

CAMP AION

when they get out of the bus, Friday is the one to divide them up into their cabin groups, and she is the one to give the counselors their very official-looking clipboards and whistles. she explains that they are in charge, and that she will be back to pick them up in a week, and... very little else. she responds to nothing outside of whatever is on her unseen little script, and she gets back on the bus shortly after, leaving them there.

welcome to camp. let's make some summer memories!

Comments

[lightconductor]

A quick shot, then, and Watson goes looking for a sterile needle. He threads it quickly, with the expertise of long practice under stressful situations, and places one hand next to her wound.

"Take a deep breath," he advises, and begins his work. It will probably still hurt a little bit.

[saltwaterlungs]

[ She follows the doctor's orders and takes a breath that shakes when the needle punctures skin. Yep, definitely glad she acquiesced to the painkillers, this would have sucked way worse without them. Watson's manner is professional and doesn't involve berating her for recklessness, so it's already a better bedside manner than she'd had to deal with back home. ]

Sorry if I'm moving, I'm really trying to hold still.

[lightconductor]

"You're doing fine," Watson assures her, and he means it.

He works quickly, a series of several neat little stitches, and then he ties it off and snips it short. "There, that's the worst of it. I'll get a dressing on top and you'll be ready to go." He's already in the process of taping some gauze down over it, pleased with the result. "You should come see me in a week or so so I can remove the sutures. Sooner if it starts to hurt or feel hot or become full of pus."

[saltwaterlungs]

Thanks. Like I said, I owe you one.

[ She pulls her shirt back down again, wrinkling her nose at the blood still drying on the fabric. ]

And thanks for not letting me be a tough guy, too.