Regardless of what gods Dirk had prayed to, it wouldn't bear any results till nearly a week later. Jake's body went through the early stages of decomposition, but after rigor mortis passed it began to slowly heal.
The island boy wasn't the type to think far enough past the 'killing' part of his last moments. He didn't know that his body would revive and expected to have his remains burned, much like he had to do with his grandmother when she was impaled. Inside Jake's own subconscious though, it was entirely possible that he knew everything would be okay after he offed himself. To what extent he understood that feeling was up to debate.
The first signal that something was off should have been the incredible throbbing in his head, the second being the delirium following in suit when he tried to roll over, but this was Jake-ever aware of his surroundings-English. It wasn't till his hand knocked something that he even opened his eyes (still unaware of his revival) thinking he was simply back in his room after a rough scrum with the bro-bot. Everything was blurred and he was (slowly) groping around the bed he was laying in to find his glasses.
The week had been a long one, one with even less sleep than he usually had. It was a week spent researching and collecting information on the likelihood of Jake's resuscitation. Everyone reassured him that everyone came back here, that the moderators of this bloody game wouldn't let their precious pieces be done away with so easily, but as time passed he started to believe those words less and less.
Each day he would clean Jake's body, keep it as preserved as he possibly could, but nothing could stop the growing doubt in the back of his mind. The body would continue to decompose in his bedroom. It was a health hazard. He needed to dispose of it if it got any worse. A couple of times he almost did but he couldn't bring himself to do it. 'Just one more day' he would say to himself. That was three days ago. He couldn't bring himself to burn the only person whoever truly believed in him. If he were in that bed, would Jake do the same?
He tried not to think too much on such things and continued to take care of Jake as if he were still alive. Finally his body was starting to give way and he found himself dozing longer than intended. It wasn't until Jake's hand fell into his lap that Dirk sprung to alertness. His sword was half-way out of his sylladex when he realized what was happening. He mumbled a quick rhyme to put it back before putting Jake's glasses in his hand and sitting back down in the chair next to his own bed.
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The island boy wasn't the type to think far enough past the 'killing' part of his last moments. He didn't know that his body would revive and expected to have his remains burned, much like he had to do with his grandmother when she was impaled. Inside Jake's own subconscious though, it was entirely possible that he knew everything would be okay after he offed himself. To what extent he understood that feeling was up to debate.
The first signal that something was off should have been the incredible throbbing in his head, the second being the delirium following in suit when he tried to roll over, but this was Jake-ever aware of his surroundings-English. It wasn't till his hand knocked something that he even opened his eyes (still unaware of his revival) thinking he was simply back in his room after a rough scrum with the bro-bot. Everything was blurred and he was (slowly) groping around the bed he was laying in to find his glasses.
"Blasted...where the devil did they go..."
no subject
Each day he would clean Jake's body, keep it as preserved as he possibly could, but nothing could stop the growing doubt in the back of his mind. The body would continue to decompose in his bedroom. It was a health hazard. He needed to dispose of it if it got any worse. A couple of times he almost did but he couldn't bring himself to do it. 'Just one more day' he would say to himself. That was three days ago. He couldn't bring himself to burn the only person whoever truly believed in him. If he were in that bed, would Jake do the same?
He tried not to think too much on such things and continued to take care of Jake as if he were still alive. Finally his body was starting to give way and he found himself dozing longer than intended. It wasn't until Jake's hand fell into his lap that Dirk sprung to alertness. His sword was half-way out of his sylladex when he realized what was happening. He mumbled a quick rhyme to put it back before putting Jake's glasses in his hand and sitting back down in the chair next to his own bed.