Mia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
frost_jewel) wrote2012-11-01 09:01 pm
frost_jewel) wrote2012-11-01 09:01 pm
17 [action/written]
[On the border between afternoon and evening of the 31st, the draft ends for Mia. For a while, all she can do is look around at the village, standing still near where they all arrive. Then she takes what remains of her notes to the battledome. To turn them over to...well, whoever is there to give them to. She doesn't want to talk, at least not for very long.
Then she goes home, House 16, and checks on her housemates before taking what is perhaps the longest shower in her entire life. The water is freezing by the time she's done, and she doesn't care. The next morning, whoever wakes first will find the coffee is ready and there is no Mercury Adept in sight.
She's out for a walk. It's not a long one: back to the battledome, to check on people. Any people, but especially those she knows well. If there are questions she has to answer - and she doubts very much there won't be questions - then she will, as polite and quiet as she ever is. When she's through there, she'll head for nearby houses and apartments, without going too far. She knows her limits and is waiting to meet up with them.
That autopilot carries her until midafternoon. What follows isn't exactly a crash. It's a slow spiral, one that finds her walking back to the house at a glacial pace, as though she might find somewhere to hide instead. But she can't. Instead she huddles into a chair in the living room, finally opening the journal to write something.]
Thank you to everyone who was there to help us. [She doesn't feel the need to specify where. The next several things she tries are crossed out, until:] I'm sorry we couldn't do more, sooner.
[[ooc: Whew look at all that action! She's mostly bouncing from house to battledome, and if you want to run into her while she's walking or standing and staring off into space, that's great too!]]
Then she goes home, House 16, and checks on her housemates before taking what is perhaps the longest shower in her entire life. The water is freezing by the time she's done, and she doesn't care. The next morning, whoever wakes first will find the coffee is ready and there is no Mercury Adept in sight.
She's out for a walk. It's not a long one: back to the battledome, to check on people. Any people, but especially those she knows well. If there are questions she has to answer - and she doubts very much there won't be questions - then she will, as polite and quiet as she ever is. When she's through there, she'll head for nearby houses and apartments, without going too far. She knows her limits and is waiting to meet up with them.
That autopilot carries her until midafternoon. What follows isn't exactly a crash. It's a slow spiral, one that finds her walking back to the house at a glacial pace, as though she might find somewhere to hide instead. But she can't. Instead she huddles into a chair in the living room, finally opening the journal to write something.]
Thank you to everyone who was there to help us. [She doesn't feel the need to specify where. The next several things she tries are crossed out, until:] I'm sorry we couldn't do more, sooner.
[[ooc: Whew look at all that action! She's mostly bouncing from house to battledome, and if you want to run into her while she's walking or standing and staring off into space, that's great too!]]
written;
So. He owes her thanks for that, at the very least. And then some.]
Hey. Thanks. For everything.
written;
You're welcome, Mr. Stark. How are you?
written;
[It's easier to write than it would probably sound spoken, but it was definitely true.]
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I'm glad. Are you with Miss Pepper? [It seemed more...considerate than just 'Pepper'.]
[[ooc: Figuring she's in the clinic so Mia asking how she was would be kind of redundant.]]
written;
[They'd be okay. You know. Just after a bit.]
written;
[Yes. Just a bit.]
written;
written;
I'm sorry. Anything.
written;
See? Thanks more like it. I bet that pretty much just wrote itself.
written;
written;
[That's a promise.]
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Chin up. Nothing we can't handle, after all.
written;
written;
[He has to keep reminding himself of this.]
written;
[She's missing the message, Mr. Stark.]
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I should let you go and rest.
written;
written;