His head felt heavy and it ached as if he was either hideously dehydrated or terribly hungover. It was a dull sensation. An unpleasant one, but that was nothing compared to the tingling in the fingers of his left hand. They burned and stung as if he'd been leaning on his arm for long enough to send it dead and then tried to shake feeling back into it, but there was no doing that now.
He had been informed that he had lost the arm. He had been given enough time to wake up and get his bearings, but the news had been delivered swiftly and without preamble by Szayel. Nel had been unhappy about it. She had admonished him for his lack of sensitivity and made an attempt at being soothing.
He couldn't remember what had happened. One moment he'd been in a scrubby desert wasteland, the next... he'd woken up under the too-bright lights of the Palace infirmary.
Szayel had poked and prodded and written things down, but Ienzo hadn't bothered replying to his questions. Did they really matter? He looked up as he scented the distant, suppressed chakra that told him Ulquiorra was close, but he frowned, looking down at the blanket that covered him. He gripped it, feeling as though he had done so with both hands, but only felt the fabric under one.
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Date: 2017-06-06 10:07 pm (UTC)His head felt heavy and it ached as if he was either hideously dehydrated or terribly hungover. It was a dull sensation. An unpleasant one, but that was nothing compared to the tingling in the fingers of his left hand. They burned and stung as if he'd been leaning on his arm for long enough to send it dead and then tried to shake feeling back into it, but there was no doing that now.
He had been informed that he had lost the arm. He had been given enough time to wake up and get his bearings, but the news had been delivered swiftly and without preamble by Szayel. Nel had been unhappy about it. She had admonished him for his lack of sensitivity and made an attempt at being soothing.
He couldn't remember what had happened. One moment he'd been in a scrubby desert wasteland, the next... he'd woken up under the too-bright lights of the Palace infirmary.
Szayel had poked and prodded and written things down, but Ienzo hadn't bothered replying to his questions. Did they really matter? He looked up as he scented the distant, suppressed chakra that told him Ulquiorra was close, but he frowned, looking down at the blanket that covered him. He gripped it, feeling as though he had done so with both hands, but only felt the fabric under one.