borderline case, reinforced glass
Even by local standards, it hasn't been a very good morning.
Tessa woke up late, with a headache, and still on the damned island, which as far as she's concerned is enough to ruin her mornings into perpetuity. On her walk to the Compound she'd noticed an entirely uncharacteristic degree of noise and disturbance -- including something that sounded for all the world like a small explosion, and put her nerves on razor-edge -- but she'd been unable to discern the cause behind it, and felt less than sanguine about revealing her ignorance for long enough to ask.
The kitchen is next to empty, and she sighs as she reaches down a coffee mug from the cabinet and begins to pour -- just as a door slams loudly across the hallway and makes her jump, splashing coffee across the counter and making her grab for the mug to stop it tipping over.
She's desperately, painfully homesick for her own clean, white, silent kitchen, and she hisses through her teeth as she reaches for the nearest dishcloth.
It takes her a moment to notice that the mug is starting to vibrate gently in her hand. She glances down at it, frowning, as the vibration grows more intense, thrumming hard enough to reverberate up her arm; it's the most peculiar feeling, almost as though something's running through her into the cup, and her eyes widen in shock just as the thing disintegrates violently into a small hail of fragments.
"Shit!"
She grabs the dishcloth, pressing it hard against her bleeding palm and hissing through her teeth at the pain.
[Timed to midmorning. Aphrodite thread comes chronologically first; everyone else can find her leaning against the counter surrounded by broken china and spilled coffee, and looking thoughtful.]
Tessa woke up late, with a headache, and still on the damned island, which as far as she's concerned is enough to ruin her mornings into perpetuity. On her walk to the Compound she'd noticed an entirely uncharacteristic degree of noise and disturbance -- including something that sounded for all the world like a small explosion, and put her nerves on razor-edge -- but she'd been unable to discern the cause behind it, and felt less than sanguine about revealing her ignorance for long enough to ask.
The kitchen is next to empty, and she sighs as she reaches down a coffee mug from the cabinet and begins to pour -- just as a door slams loudly across the hallway and makes her jump, splashing coffee across the counter and making her grab for the mug to stop it tipping over.
She's desperately, painfully homesick for her own clean, white, silent kitchen, and she hisses through her teeth as she reaches for the nearest dishcloth.
It takes her a moment to notice that the mug is starting to vibrate gently in her hand. She glances down at it, frowning, as the vibration grows more intense, thrumming hard enough to reverberate up her arm; it's the most peculiar feeling, almost as though something's running through her into the cup, and her eyes widen in shock just as the thing disintegrates violently into a small hail of fragments.
"Shit!"
She grabs the dishcloth, pressing it hard against her bleeding palm and hissing through her teeth at the pain.
[Timed to midmorning. Aphrodite thread comes chronologically first; everyone else can find her leaning against the counter surrounded by broken china and spilled coffee, and looking thoughtful.]