When I looked around, I was heading down / Won't somebody throw me down a line?
Sixteen hours of sleep have left Roxie feeling a little better; the strange glyphs that were slowly etching their way across her face are gone, and the bags under her eyes are mostly gone. She's given herself this: twenty-four hours to relax, to try and get herself back in order, before she goes back to work. Even with the rest, she can feel her metaphysical pores clogged. This won't be enough to clear that, she knows, but it will at least keep her working on her wards and guarding sigils efficiently.
Roxie's set up broad, plushly comfortable sitting room and is on her way through her third full plate of virtual meat-and-potatoes food, with more waiting. She can barely stand the stuff in the Mess Hall-sure, this is really just the same thing, but the added imagination of texture and flavor makes it much easier to shovel it in. And shovel she does... almost at a dangerous rate, if choking wasn't any real danger to her. And there's one more thing: to step into this part of the Sensoriums, now, is to nearly hit a solid wall of ambient sound; it's so loud it might even be possible to hear it outside, past the mostly-closed door.
Roxie's set up broad, plushly comfortable sitting room and is on her way through her third full plate of virtual meat-and-potatoes food, with more waiting. She can barely stand the stuff in the Mess Hall-sure, this is really just the same thing, but the added imagination of texture and flavor makes it much easier to shovel it in. And shovel she does... almost at a dangerous rate, if choking wasn't any real danger to her. And there's one more thing: to step into this part of the Sensoriums, now, is to nearly hit a solid wall of ambient sound; it's so loud it might even be possible to hear it outside, past the mostly-closed door.