Post-Event Reaction Log!

[lucetimods]

Who: Everybody
What: Post-Event Reactions
When: Today (and tomorrow too)
Where: Anywhere
Summary: Most of Luceti was back to their normal selves. Not only that, but they now remembered their trips to other worlds. So how 'bout that?
Rating: Whatever

This is for today and tomorrow, since not everyone will be fully reverted until then. Remember to tag your characters in!

Comments

[fuckthemission]

Nn. [He just rolls over into the blankets, not bothering to remove his shoes or anything that smothered him. Too drunk and lazy to even discard the rag on his neck, either. Whatever.

But he does manage to mutter a low but genuine 'thanks'.]

[fleurdesel]

...You are welcome, Rick.

[If she knew him better, she'd take off his shoes and help him sleep in bed instead of on top of it. But. She's done enough, for now, and settles on the sofa with an extra pillow instead.]

1/2

[fuckthemission]

[So it goes. Rick actually falls into a dead sleep for a long while, face hidden in the crease of his arm as the hours tick by. Tick tock, tick—when he wakes up he's hit by a wave of nausea and a rolling stomach that begs that he heave it all out. But he's used to the sensation, battles with himself, and ultimately lays there as early morning rolls around—5 AM. On the plus side... he slept. On the downside, the light bleeding through his blinds are making his head hurt. Why the fuck couldn't he just stay asleep until 10 or 11 like a decent hungover person?

He stumbles up out of bed and jerks the twine, forcing the darkness back in.]

[fuckthemission]

[Once he's able to lower his hand from his eyes he sits on the edge of the bed and Thinks.

But even then, he slides on a normal hooded jacket and slips easily past Adele's sleeping figure (he thinks she'll probably be up in no time, knowing her and her schedule so far), leaving a shorthand note 'just a walk, soldier's honor, thanks for the help'. He'll be back later. Two hours later, with a coffee and a bottle of aspirin; the sun was probably what drove him back toward the apartment, anyway.

(Second) Worst Monday ever, successfully over.]

[fleurdesel]

[Adele's sleep is light. Uneasy. It's difficult to rest when you've an ear out for any trouble in the next room over. She wakes a little at Doyle's departure, blinks, and checks the note. She wasn't certain if it was an invitation to remain, or a request for her to leave.

Erring on the side of caution, she remains. Not without catching an hour's more of rest, peering out at the village, and then heading to the communal kitchen to prepare breakfast. He'd be back soonish. On his return he'll find her sitting at the coffee table, two plates of eggs, bacon, and toast ready and waiting.]

[fuckthemission]

Howdy.

[When he walks back into the complex and runs into her, he looks skeptical—not at her being there, but at the plates she's prepared. His stomach flops at the thought of eating eggs, to be honest. But the rest he thinks he can manage, so he slips into his own chair, not particularly ashamed or worried that she bears witness to his light pallor and particularly groggy form. Hangovers, man.]

Thanks. [It's a little guilty, not his usual tone, but he's good at sliding out of that mode and into another.] You sure you don't have anything important planned? Wouldn't want you missing anything on my account.

[fleurdesel]

Good morning.

[Adele busies herself with sliding her eggs on top of her toast before cutting into them. It was a typical American breakfast but- fatty foods were supposed to help with hangovers as much as a painkiller and proper hydration. His pallor is looked over with a critical eye, noted, and dismissed for the moment. Not as bad as some she's seen. Perhaps the top fifteen, but. Not as bad as Robert.]

You are welcome Rick. [She nods to the plate in front of him, fork, knife, and a pat of butter ready and waiting for him.] Today? No, I don't.

[fuckthemission]

[He glances at her suspiciously, hand sitting on the tail-end of a fork. The last thing he wants right now is someone wasting their time on him when he's really going to be alright, if that's what the case is here. But he doesn't say it — just irons up his stomach and chews on his toast.]

Miss Busybody, not doing anything?

[... There's always room for snark.]

[fleurdesel]

I am not so busy anymore, to be honest. All work and no sleep makes a useless surgeon of me.

[She lifts a shoulder and cuts a bite of her beyolked toast, chewing thoughtfully. As far as her plans for the day went she'd only thought so far as to seeing Rick fed, and then she would return home. He was a grown man, and the worst of it seems to have passed.]

[fuckthemission]

[That makes him grin, just a little.]

Good. Your schedule was a crazy vortex of numbers anyway.

[fleurdesel]

The very next day I was passing out around the village for want of sleep. I have learned not to push myself quite so hard.

[fuckthemission]

Good to hear. The last thing we need is a surgeon falling asleep on their patients.

[fleurdesel]

I am fortunate that no one was in need of my skills during that time. It would not have gone well...

[A beat, then she nods at his arm.]

It healed?

[fuckthemission]

[Ah, right. He holds up his arm, bringing down the sleeve to show little to no marks, flexes it back and forth.] Fit as a fiddle. Just a little sore, but I hardly feel it anymore.

[fleurdesel]

The one thing I miss from last week. [She huffs a laugh, reaching over to trace where marks would have been had he healed normally.]

Being able to heal.

[fuckthemission]

Seems like it'd be a pretty helpful skill for a doctor. [grin] Hey, you've got the... what were they again? Filial spirits? How about getting your mind wrapped around those?

[fleurdesel]

I have not had much luck with Nala, the healing spirit, before. Quieting my mind enough to hear her is not easy for me. But...it may be simpler, now.

[fuckthemission]

[He's chewing on something on his plate his stomach will reason with, eyebrow perking.] Simpler now that you're not busy? I've tried to listen before, but I guess I'm still too grounded in Earth logic to really work it.

[fleurdesel]

As was I. [She huffs a laugh.] No. The shift- after being a Jedi, or close to one, for a week; opening my mind to a filial spirit is not quite so strange a thought anymore.

[fuckthemission]

Oh, right. The whole 'force' thing, and all that stuff. Better hop on that before your other memories get too fuzzy.

[He pecks at his food, quiet for a moment; his own memories are pretty fuzzy, too. Now if he could only make the most hideous parts of it harder to remember.]

Try your hand at being a magical doctor. It's like an oxymoron.

[fleurdesel]

Some of the basics are remaining quite clear, actually. It is strange.

[That along with the fact she was given quite a few notes and journals on whatever her alternate self had deemed useful made forgetting more difficult.]

Something akin to military intelligence, yes?

[fuckthemission]

Ha, ha, very funny.

At least there's some good that came from you being one with the force for a week. Hopefully everyone else had some sort of bright side to all that crazy bull.

[fleurdesel]

One can only hope. [She lifts a shoulder and finishes her last bite of egg soaked toast.] As it is, many seem to be more in your boat.

For once I think I was lucky. I am now terrified of what that is going to mean for the rest of those that were effected by the same changes in shift.

[fuckthemission]

... Mn. [He takes a drink and avoids that can of worms, because he really doesn't want to think about what he remembered of Panem.] They might have a bright side. If not... hopefully most people can find some sort of... something in the fact that none of it was their real lives.

[fleurdesel]

Solace. Take comfort in the reality they have waiting for them- or the reality they have here.

[She mops up the rest of her egg with her bacon, chewing on it with a wince. Too rubbery. ]

...such as it is. [A beat.] How is your head?