All sound shuts out for an indeterminate amount of time, leaving a dull ringing that vibrates in his jaw and makes his teeth hurt.
Well. Inaccurate.
Everything hurts.
Daniel has no grasp of basic orientation and no sense of categorizing; he simply has the parts that hurt and then the immediate space surrounding said parts. Shaking his head to clear it initially seems an acceptable choice of action but this turns out to prove difficult, seeing as the slightest twitch of movement in that general area sends a wave of extremely disagreeable pain juddering down to his spine.
So, ow.
Everything smears into a relative sort of focus, and Daniel understands that his vision is blurry in part because of how his glasses are askew and also broken, a latticework of cracks punched into one lens. The other lens appears to be missing or, or no, not missing, just blown out into fragments that seem to be embedded in the flesh surrounding the corresponding eye. Which. Cause and effect - this is likely because the car, the car, the car has crashed and for some reason it lacks airbags or they have refused to work for whatever inane reason, and thus Daniel's head has smacked into the window.
He works one hand up to the apparent injury pulsing on the left side of his head. He hisses when fingers brush it, and the tips come away wet and warm and red. Oh, so not good.
The pain appropriately shatters the dulled patina of shock and Daniel's sensory capabilities return in a rush, as well as his awareness that he wasn't alone in the car when this happened which, shit.
"Nick," he says, or tries to say, but the sound bubbles out half-formed.
tw: injury
Well. Inaccurate.
Everything hurts.
Daniel has no grasp of basic orientation and no sense of categorizing; he simply has the parts that hurt and then the immediate space surrounding said parts. Shaking his head to clear it initially seems an acceptable choice of action but this turns out to prove difficult, seeing as the slightest twitch of movement in that general area sends a wave of extremely disagreeable pain juddering down to his spine.
So, ow.
Everything smears into a relative sort of focus, and Daniel understands that his vision is blurry in part because of how his glasses are askew and also broken, a latticework of cracks punched into one lens. The other lens appears to be missing or, or no, not missing, just blown out into fragments that seem to be embedded in the flesh surrounding the corresponding eye. Which. Cause and effect - this is likely because the car, the car, the car has crashed and for some reason it lacks airbags or they have refused to work for whatever inane reason, and thus Daniel's head has smacked into the window.
He works one hand up to the apparent injury pulsing on the left side of his head. He hisses when fingers brush it, and the tips come away wet and warm and red. Oh, so not good.
The pain appropriately shatters the dulled patina of shock and Daniel's sensory capabilities return in a rush, as well as his awareness that he wasn't alone in the car when this happened which, shit.
"Nick," he says, or tries to say, but the sound bubbles out half-formed.