Thursday, 1 December 2011

~Steele~ My my, this place has really gone to shit.

Rivers is still unwell. The affected tissue has been excised, but when he's been conscious, he's still been in a lot of pain. Muscle death does so tend to do that. Lori's been discussing the options available to him...either leave it and keep as much of himself as possible, despite the pain (much like my right hand, which, well, I try not to look at too closely; the gloves that I wear are as much for my benefit as they are for the sorry bastards who have to look at me), and he'll probably be walking with a limp for the rest of his life.

The other option is amputation. Matt's still debating it, but you can see in his eyes that the pain is getting to him. God knows it gets to me. Lori's a particularly skilled bonesaw, but even she realises her limitations sometimes; it'd be much better to, if this is what we're going for, get him properly fitted for a prosthetic at a real hospital. So once he's recovered enough to travel, that's where we are heading, never to return.

Though looking at my garage, I can see the courier fleet falling into disrepair already. A rogue ivy vine has crawled in through the cracks in the walls and is propagating itself quite nicely across the southern side of the garage; I had to tear it away from the entrance to park the ute. Seriously, have you guys not paid any attention to the place in a month?

Realistically, it couldn't have grown to the size it is in that short amount of time, but time is very much relative when it comes to the House. Some sort of voodoo Loop bullshit, I suppose; makes things kind of funky. Still, come on, take care of your transport, it's the only way you guys are going to escape when things inevitably go south.

I'll do one final maintenance on the fleet then bid thee adieu. Call it a parting gift.

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