Eva's unconscious for a while, and then wakes up screaming. It's a keening sound that feels like it's wrenching itself from the marrow of her bones. Blinding pain. Like every organ's been removed from her body and replaced with acid. She thrashes around in the sarcophagus, all cages in, fingernails twisting backwards as she drags them on the ceiling and then straightening again as the dark magic of the Goa'uld heals her.
She's coming back together. She's coming back together and it's agony. If healing is supposed to be one of the kind arts then this is graffiti, and not the poetic kind. It's worse than anything the Yeerks ever did to her.
She can feel her skin sewing itself back together. Blood schlupping back up into the frayed edges of veins that are rebraiding themselves. Her bones crashing into each other like fissures in the earth. Her organs like tectonic plates. Her brain is knitting itself back together. She can feel it inside her head like a thousand migraines seizing up in tandem.
And after hours that seem like years, it's over. She lies in the sarcophagus, spent, exhausted simply to have survived something when she could not have possibly perished. She breathes hard and closes her eyes and waits.
Re: EVA
She's coming back together. She's coming back together and it's agony. If healing is supposed to be one of the kind arts then this is graffiti, and not the poetic kind. It's worse than anything the Yeerks ever did to her.
She can feel her skin sewing itself back together. Blood schlupping back up into the frayed edges of veins that are rebraiding themselves. Her bones crashing into each other like fissures in the earth. Her organs like tectonic plates. Her brain is knitting itself back together. She can feel it inside her head like a thousand migraines seizing up in tandem.
And after hours that seem like years, it's over. She lies in the sarcophagus, spent, exhausted simply to have survived something when she could not have possibly perished. She breathes hard and closes her eyes and waits.