Darkling/OC (Modern Woman in Grishaverse)
Welcome to my brain on decongestants. And google translate. Lol sorrynotsorry.
Sofie is scrambling to her feet before her brain registers the screaming. Sheâd fallen asleep in one of the ER patient beds at the end of a brutal 20 hour shift. She should have made it to the staff room, there was peace and quiet there at least. Well, more than the screams of incoming patients.
She pushes her way through thick curtains and blinks in the peculiar light. She registers canvas, men running, mud and boots and agonising screams. She pushes everything to the side and runs towards the commotion. Thereâll be time enough to figure out what the fuck kind of prank this is later. Â
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Continuing because Iâm still doolally on decongestants.
Sofie is cuffed and tied down in a tent, a guard snoozing at the door. Her hands begin to crunch as the blood dries and flakes off. Itâs a deeply unpleasant sensation, but not half as unpleasant as being marched at gunpoint by raving fucking lunatics. So she sits on the uneven ground in her scrubs and wonders how it got so fucking cold. Mud has worked its way into her crocs and through her socks, squelching between her painfully cold toes. Judging by the way her teeth are chattering, sheâs going to have a serious problem with hypothermia shortly. The adrenaline of the surgery is wearing off now, and thus the peripheral vasodilation. Â
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âDoes anyone remember how long the march is from Kribirsk to Os Alta? I seem to recall by horseback / carriage it was a 1-2 day ride at a decent clip, so 4 days sound about right?
Sorry I also donât know what 1800s Russian military had as liquid rations. Iâm assuming water supplies arenât the cleanest, so alcohol it is.
An old and patchworn uniform is thrust into Sofieâs arms, socks and boots dropped on top, one heel colliding with the bridge of her nose.  âOw motherfuck,â she hisses, but she gratefully dives into the tent to scramble into something clearly warmer than her cotton scrubs. Â
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Iâve come to the conclusion that I fucking love decongestants. I CAN BREATHE! I will never stop taking my antihistamines again. Mainly because, fun as it is to be high on decongestants, it makes hard for functioning.
By day two Sofie is no longer paying attention to the passage of time. It is all a haze of misery and pain, each step lancing up her legs. She hasnât taken her boots off since she put them on. They pinch now, her feet swelling up in response to the constant damage to her skin. At every rest she collapses and catches whatever sleep she can, aided by whatever is in that godawful canteen Squish-Nose gives her. Her stomach cramps painfully and threatens to bring her latest swig back up. What passes as âfoodâ is insufficient in both nutrition and quantity, and her body tells her in no uncertain terms that this is even worse than what she lived on as an impoverished student. Â
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So Iâve been pretty much sick since I posted this, but the good news is the second lot of antibiotics is working to nuke the sinus infection!
This is brought to you by maple chicken wings and pork belly poutine.
TW: Surgical violence.
The world disappears in a clag of fever, and in the thinning windows of lucidity Sofie knows things are getting worse. She hears voices, sometimes, guttural and quiet. She feels damp and cool on her forehead but never sees a person. She burns.
Caution: Author is loopy on drugs (again), and yet she regrets NOTHING! Â
Weâre gonna be taking a tentative dip into someone elseâs brain this time, because I didnât like how the last chapter ran. So this is ... instead of the last chapter. TALLYHO!
Also yes wording is deliberate. Just roll with it. Itâs my brain doing things it thinks is fancy.
It is ... pleasant, the Darkling thinks, to have the Sun Summoner around. Her power, the precise antithesis of all he is, grates against his senses. The rents her light rips from him are exquisite agony. She is at both bigger and smaller than he expected: she herself is mousy, peeking out every once in a while for a cautious look and maybe a shy smile, then hiding again; her insides are infinite. Â
It is to his great surprise, then, that a runner finds him and hands him a note that says, in a polite but firm manner, that he has a prisoner here and if he could please come and decide her fate before she expires. He had entirely forgotten about the woman and her rough language, medal bright eyes and strange garb. He rubs his thumb and forefinger together. Best deal with her now, while he has a free moment to attend to it.
He motions to Ivan. The red monolith falls into step behind him. Â



















