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milliways_bar2007-05-11 09:20 am
azure-mercy.livejournal.com) wrote in milliways_bar2007-05-11 09:20 am
Entry tags:
Off-duty, out of sorts
[OOC: Millitimed to after the bar brawl and then caring for the wounded in the infirmary, both still in progress. This is going to go into instant slowtime, I'm afraid, but anyone who wants to can tag, and I'll respond when I can.]
Zhaan has spent the last several arns running back and forth, diagnosing and treating injuries, mixing medicines and dealing with the psychic noise from the minds and bodies of many wounded people in the same room. Even with her shield up, she couldn't block everything out. Especially since touching people caused her to take their pain and see their injuries as if she were inside them, part of them - whether she wanted that or not. It was useful in some ways, but...not pleasant.
The cumulative effect of all this has left her feeling sore all over, like she's been beaten from head to toe. She's also wondering if she ought to resume her lessons with Rachel. Or if that will even help.
Weary too the roots but knowing that her mind is to unsettled to let her sleep, Zhaan has ensconced herself in the booth by the infirmary door, alternately surveying the green goo-spattered wreckage of the bar and staring off into space when she gets lost in thought. There's a pot of tea at her elbow which is now two-thirds full, and a cooling cup in her hands that is about half full. At the moment, it seems, that cup is just something to hold, more than something to drink from.
Zhaan has spent the last several arns running back and forth, diagnosing and treating injuries, mixing medicines and dealing with the psychic noise from the minds and bodies of many wounded people in the same room. Even with her shield up, she couldn't block everything out. Especially since touching people caused her to take their pain and see their injuries as if she were inside them, part of them - whether she wanted that or not. It was useful in some ways, but...not pleasant.
The cumulative effect of all this has left her feeling sore all over, like she's been beaten from head to toe. She's also wondering if she ought to resume her lessons with Rachel. Or if that will even help.
Weary too the roots but knowing that her mind is to unsettled to let her sleep, Zhaan has ensconced herself in the booth by the infirmary door, alternately surveying the green goo-spattered wreckage of the bar and staring off into space when she gets lost in thought. There's a pot of tea at her elbow which is now two-thirds full, and a cooling cup in her hands that is about half full. At the moment, it seems, that cup is just something to hold, more than something to drink from.