Murphy McManus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spiritusaequitas) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisalogs2012-01-25 10:25 pm
spiritusaequitas) wrote in paradisalogs2012-01-25 10:25 pm
Entry tags:
call me with thy saints surrounded... (OPEN)
Who: Connor & Murphy MacManus ... AND YOU TOO!
What: Waking up in Paradisa
When: Early Wednesday evening
Where: The clinic
Rating: R by default for f-bombs
((OOC: MOST of what the boys say aloud here is in Gaelic. If your character knows it, feel free to call them out on it!))
The first thing the twins noticed was how oddly quiet it was. The rattle and slam of barred doors, the heavy footsteps of guards... and most importantly, the shouts of the protesters outside... all were missing. The only familiar sound was the beeping of heart monitors.
Murphy MacManus opened his eyes slowly and coughed, letting the clinic swim into focus. Normally, the first thing he saw in the mornings was the slow rise and fall of their friend Romeo's chest ... but he was gone. Some other soul he didn't know from Adam lay there instead. Drawing in a sharp breath, Murphy rolled over and stared at his twin.
Connor's eyes were wide open, meeting Murphy's with an equally shocked look. He frowned, listening intently for a moment as he tried to figure out what the fuck was going on. A glance around the room only succeeded in confusing him even more. Well, at least there were no guards that he could see. With another glance at Murphy he slowly sat up, grimacing as the bandages around his waist and shoulder pulled.
Sitting up in unison with his brother, Murphy flexed his own shoulder tentatively, and let out a soft hiss of pain. Wherever they were, it was a lot nicer than the Hoag. The mural stretched out across the wall in front of them gave him pause, and he frowned. The garden of Eden? It was an odd coincidence, for sure. Pursing his lips, he finally spoke up in quiet, terse Gaelic:
"What in the Lord's name is going on?"
Connor shook his head, throwing back the blankets and swinging his legs off the bed. He replied in kind, "Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe they drugged us and moved us somewhere else? Though this doesn't look like a prison."
"I thought of drugs, too..." He glanced at his forearms. One Celtic cross, no tracks from IV needles. "Doesn't look like it though. And that door doesn't look like it's built to hold us in..." One last stretch of his back, and Murphy swung around to sit on the edge of his bed, too. As he tilted his head to rub at his injured shoulder, something caught his eye. "..... there's a book here with my name on it." He turned to look at Connor, suspicion and foreboding writ plain in his eyes.
"What?" Connor started to turn, but the stitches in his side pulled tight and he thought better of it. He settled for sliding up the bed, closer to the night stand to take a look. His eyes fell on the book and Murphy's name on the cover. A second book was stacked beneath it. "What in the hell?" He carefully tugged the second book free, turning it so Murphy could see that he wasn't the only one with a mysterious gift. He looked up, meeting his twin's gaze.
Murphy swallowed, wrapping his hand in a corner of the sheets before tugging his book onto his knee and nudging it open. At the sight of words appearing before his eyes, he drew in a slow breath and completely forgot to speak in Gaelic. "Fuuuuuck me." Catching himself, he made a quick hop from the side of his bed to sit beside his twin, holding the book out in silent bewilderment.
“Shit!” Connor watched the words for a moment before turning his eyes back to Murphy. He let silence fall between them. The fuck’s going on?
Beats the hell out of me, Murphy’s eyes said, with a quick, darting glance to the door, but I’m not about to sit around and wait for someone to come tell me. Keeping the journal in hand, he got to his feet, pausing long enough to get used to being on his feet again. A glance around the clinic showed him a few bottles out on a tray, and he picked them up until he found one that looked like a viable painkiller. Tipping two out into his palm, he dry-swallowed them, then tossed the bottle to his brother without looking. His common sense mostly regained, he switched back to Gaelic. ”F’nothin’ else we can find a phone and call Eunice or --” Another name should’ve gone there, he was sure. He shook his head. ”- somebody.”
Connor caught the bottle one handed, popping the lid off and downing a couple of pills before dropping it onto the bed next to him. One arm wrapped around his stomach to hold his side, he pushed himself to his feet. He continued Murphy’s sentence in Gaelic, “How the fuck’d we get a hold’ve Eunice? She’s in Costa Rica or some shite. I’d call Duffy ’r Dolly.” He took a few steps towards Murphy, scoping the room out for other exits. Wherever this place was wasn’t very secure at all.
Duffy or Dolly. Neither of those names was ringing a bell, and it bothered him. He pushed the thought aside, though, choosing to instead focus on the present, and test his weight on his left leg. His calf protested, due to the bullet wound still healing, but held. ”We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. … Come on, before someone catches on.”
They were both hurting, but that’s what they had each other for. Connor took his place at Murphy’s left side, wrapping his arm around his waist. “Aye.”
At the same moment, Murphy put his arm around Connor, low beneath his shoulders. With a nod at one another, the two brothers pressed out of the clinic and into the lobby ...
What: Waking up in Paradisa
When: Early Wednesday evening
Where: The clinic
Rating: R by default for f-bombs
((OOC: MOST of what the boys say aloud here is in Gaelic. If your character knows it, feel free to call them out on it!))
The first thing the twins noticed was how oddly quiet it was. The rattle and slam of barred doors, the heavy footsteps of guards... and most importantly, the shouts of the protesters outside... all were missing. The only familiar sound was the beeping of heart monitors.
Murphy MacManus opened his eyes slowly and coughed, letting the clinic swim into focus. Normally, the first thing he saw in the mornings was the slow rise and fall of their friend Romeo's chest ... but he was gone. Some other soul he didn't know from Adam lay there instead. Drawing in a sharp breath, Murphy rolled over and stared at his twin.
Connor's eyes were wide open, meeting Murphy's with an equally shocked look. He frowned, listening intently for a moment as he tried to figure out what the fuck was going on. A glance around the room only succeeded in confusing him even more. Well, at least there were no guards that he could see. With another glance at Murphy he slowly sat up, grimacing as the bandages around his waist and shoulder pulled.
Sitting up in unison with his brother, Murphy flexed his own shoulder tentatively, and let out a soft hiss of pain. Wherever they were, it was a lot nicer than the Hoag. The mural stretched out across the wall in front of them gave him pause, and he frowned. The garden of Eden? It was an odd coincidence, for sure. Pursing his lips, he finally spoke up in quiet, terse Gaelic:
"What in the Lord's name is going on?"
Connor shook his head, throwing back the blankets and swinging his legs off the bed. He replied in kind, "Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe they drugged us and moved us somewhere else? Though this doesn't look like a prison."
"I thought of drugs, too..." He glanced at his forearms. One Celtic cross, no tracks from IV needles. "Doesn't look like it though. And that door doesn't look like it's built to hold us in..." One last stretch of his back, and Murphy swung around to sit on the edge of his bed, too. As he tilted his head to rub at his injured shoulder, something caught his eye. "..... there's a book here with my name on it." He turned to look at Connor, suspicion and foreboding writ plain in his eyes.
"What?" Connor started to turn, but the stitches in his side pulled tight and he thought better of it. He settled for sliding up the bed, closer to the night stand to take a look. His eyes fell on the book and Murphy's name on the cover. A second book was stacked beneath it. "What in the hell?" He carefully tugged the second book free, turning it so Murphy could see that he wasn't the only one with a mysterious gift. He looked up, meeting his twin's gaze.
Murphy swallowed, wrapping his hand in a corner of the sheets before tugging his book onto his knee and nudging it open. At the sight of words appearing before his eyes, he drew in a slow breath and completely forgot to speak in Gaelic. "Fuuuuuck me." Catching himself, he made a quick hop from the side of his bed to sit beside his twin, holding the book out in silent bewilderment.
“Shit!” Connor watched the words for a moment before turning his eyes back to Murphy. He let silence fall between them. The fuck’s going on?
Beats the hell out of me, Murphy’s eyes said, with a quick, darting glance to the door, but I’m not about to sit around and wait for someone to come tell me. Keeping the journal in hand, he got to his feet, pausing long enough to get used to being on his feet again. A glance around the clinic showed him a few bottles out on a tray, and he picked them up until he found one that looked like a viable painkiller. Tipping two out into his palm, he dry-swallowed them, then tossed the bottle to his brother without looking. His common sense mostly regained, he switched back to Gaelic. ”F’nothin’ else we can find a phone and call Eunice or --” Another name should’ve gone there, he was sure. He shook his head. ”- somebody.”
Connor caught the bottle one handed, popping the lid off and downing a couple of pills before dropping it onto the bed next to him. One arm wrapped around his stomach to hold his side, he pushed himself to his feet. He continued Murphy’s sentence in Gaelic, “How the fuck’d we get a hold’ve Eunice? She’s in Costa Rica or some shite. I’d call Duffy ’r Dolly.” He took a few steps towards Murphy, scoping the room out for other exits. Wherever this place was wasn’t very secure at all.
Duffy or Dolly. Neither of those names was ringing a bell, and it bothered him. He pushed the thought aside, though, choosing to instead focus on the present, and test his weight on his left leg. His calf protested, due to the bullet wound still healing, but held. ”We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. … Come on, before someone catches on.”
They were both hurting, but that’s what they had each other for. Connor took his place at Murphy’s left side, wrapping his arm around his waist. “Aye.”
At the same moment, Murphy put his arm around Connor, low beneath his shoulders. With a nod at one another, the two brothers pressed out of the clinic and into the lobby ...
no subject
He looked over at Murphy, D'you believe this shite?
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"Aye, I mean -- not that we're disrespectin' ya or nothin', but yer sources, those might be another matter entirely. Yaknow?" And with that, he shifted slightly so that Carson could start work on his shoulder.
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"There are quite a few residents here. Been here longer than I have. Loads of different races, species, cultures."
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Connor stared in shock. That somehow made sense. Residents, doctors, crazy explanations... shit. They hadn't been jailed they'd been institutionalized.
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"I would recommend you stay away from Dr. House. The man is a wee bit..." Searching for term. "Abrasive."
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Connor watched him work on his brother. He had to hand it to the doc, he did good work. He chuckled, "Oh don' worry 'bout us. I think we can fuckin' handle abrasive." He shook a fist to demonstrate.
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"... Hey, odd question, I know, but. F'we're stuck here ... we're gonna need some clothes 'sides these." He nodded a little toward his pants. "And we didn' exactly come with money on hand. Any idea where we might be able to find ... I dunno, a Salvation Army or sommat?"
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"Aye, wait one here." He walks over to his desk, grabbing his scanner and pulling up the latest results. After a quick translation of Ancient, he has the boy's measurements and wishes up two sets of clothes for them.
"I hope they match your style. Your rooms should have similar clothes."
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"Wha... Where th'fuck'd you get those? Have y'got clothing stores in yer desk drawers're somethin'?"
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"The castle lets you wish for stuff. Nothing too complicated. Food, drink, clothes. No weapons.
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"FUCK!" Connor stood, stumbling away from the bed, slack jaw as he pointed at the pile in in shock.
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"See?"