The downfall.
Four days. It had been four days since she'd patrolled with Maladicta, heard Dief's barking, saw Faramir's body. Four days. Four hours, she would have believed, as well as four years, but not four days. That couldn't have been right. It was either not too long ago, or forever ago. Wasn't that the story of her life, though?
She hadn't slept in four days, either, hadn't even left the compound. She was either patrolling as usual (and always with someone), seated in the IPD office, prepared to answer questions and comfort the panicked civilians, or walking the parameter of the Compound, back so straight that it ached. She wasn't even tired, wasn't scared, wasn't... anything. She was numb. Going through the motions.
Wash had patted her on the back, told her that she just needed some sleep, that was all. That she should just go back to her log cabin-hut and sleep it off. That she'd be OK. He'd even walked her to her hut in silence, him shifting, her still upright and straigter than could ever be comfortable. She'd said her cold goodnights, then stood in front of her door.
She never even made it inside. The second she was alone, she crumbled, a hand on the door as she doubled over and collapsed, so overwhelmed that everything washed over and crippled her that all she could do was cry, right there, crouched in front of her door at dusk for all to see.
[Yeah. Not doing so well. Looking for those that stated interest in the aftermath (Cordi, Mala) and any old friends. New ones may not be greeted so warmly right now, but hey! Worth a try.]
She hadn't slept in four days, either, hadn't even left the compound. She was either patrolling as usual (and always with someone), seated in the IPD office, prepared to answer questions and comfort the panicked civilians, or walking the parameter of the Compound, back so straight that it ached. She wasn't even tired, wasn't scared, wasn't... anything. She was numb. Going through the motions.
Wash had patted her on the back, told her that she just needed some sleep, that was all. That she should just go back to her log cabin-hut and sleep it off. That she'd be OK. He'd even walked her to her hut in silence, him shifting, her still upright and straigter than could ever be comfortable. She'd said her cold goodnights, then stood in front of her door.
She never even made it inside. The second she was alone, she crumbled, a hand on the door as she doubled over and collapsed, so overwhelmed that everything washed over and crippled her that all she could do was cry, right there, crouched in front of her door at dusk for all to see.
[Yeah. Not doing so well. Looking for those that stated interest in the aftermath (Cordi, Mala) and any old friends. New ones may not be greeted so warmly right now, but hey! Worth a try.]