The Eternal Queen
Long fingers rubbed little circles into the Archons temples. She eyed her caf dispenser with disgust. It was empty. Already. Just when she needed the caffeine the most. She was going to fall asleep at her desk again if she didn't get a hold of herself, and she could not accept that right now. She had to struggle on. It was expected of her.
The last conversation she had with her husband echoed in her head.
"You're killing yourself Feena. And the CIS is letting you."
He was right. Why did he always have to be right?
Her wrist chrono beeped. Time for her medicine again. No... That wasn't it. Not her chrono at all. She narrowed her eyes. She was being paged by the medical ward. Why now? Didn't they know how to handle things? She wasn't their Arch Curate anymore. She was the Archon! She had work to do. She had-
"Lady Archon?" A small holographic figure of a nurse appeared on her desk, "Your assistance is requested."
"Oh?" Her voice was flat, tired, almost disinterested, "Let me guess. Another politician, requesting personal healing from the Archon herself? Look, I don't heal boils and bloody noses."
There was an awkward silence at the white clad nurse read the data pad in front of her.
"Err... No, My Lady. The patient in question is-"
"-Isley Verd. Isley. Verd."
Feena repeated the name to herself as she stormed into the medical bay. She was in a foul mood and it was clear. She was running on two hours sleep, having been awake for about 28 hours straight before that. Sleep was hard. She had to check everything, every lock, every guard at her door, every window. And then, if she was lucky, she could take enough medication to make her sleep for a few hours. But the dreams... That was a hellish side effect. How many ways could someone die in a dream anyways?
"Well?" she snapped to the Nurse waiting for her at the end of the long white hall, "Where is the poor dear?"
@[member="Isley Verd"]
The last conversation she had with her husband echoed in her head.
"You're killing yourself Feena. And the CIS is letting you."
He was right. Why did he always have to be right?
Her wrist chrono beeped. Time for her medicine again. No... That wasn't it. Not her chrono at all. She narrowed her eyes. She was being paged by the medical ward. Why now? Didn't they know how to handle things? She wasn't their Arch Curate anymore. She was the Archon! She had work to do. She had-
"Lady Archon?" A small holographic figure of a nurse appeared on her desk, "Your assistance is requested."
"Oh?" Her voice was flat, tired, almost disinterested, "Let me guess. Another politician, requesting personal healing from the Archon herself? Look, I don't heal boils and bloody noses."
There was an awkward silence at the white clad nurse read the data pad in front of her.
"Err... No, My Lady. The patient in question is-"
"-Isley Verd. Isley. Verd."
Feena repeated the name to herself as she stormed into the medical bay. She was in a foul mood and it was clear. She was running on two hours sleep, having been awake for about 28 hours straight before that. Sleep was hard. She had to check everything, every lock, every guard at her door, every window. And then, if she was lucky, she could take enough medication to make her sleep for a few hours. But the dreams... That was a hellish side effect. How many ways could someone die in a dream anyways?
"Well?" she snapped to the Nurse waiting for her at the end of the long white hall, "Where is the poor dear?"
@[member="Isley Verd"]