mingle!

[grimpa]

Who: anyone!
When: Day 6, morning
Where: the lounge carriage (or, like, wherever, I'm not your boss)

[What's shakin', heroes? That sure was a trial last night, huh? What's on the agenda this morning-- still exploring, for new folks? Having team talks in light of having two trials'-worth of info on how this stuff is gonna go? Cooking something up in the public kitchen? Taking memories or testing out new powers? Playing with new purchases from the sparks shop? Just hanging out in the lounge? You do you; everyone's gotta find their own path on their magical interdimensional spacetrain journey.]

Comments

[voreaciously]

[Where is she? Where is everyone? What is happening?

She remembers.

The train. No one is here. She is still running too hot.

She half-collapses forward, forcibly relaxing herself as much as she can so she breathe with as little strain as hum--mechanically possible.

There's a notice on her HUD that her temperature is falling because of her efforts, but still too high. She falls on her back and pulls the blanket away. She cannot sweat this out--doesn't sweat at all--and it makes her want to tear her flesh from her bones. If only she was not made of so many heat-retaining materials.

Her breathing is still laboured, but it begins to calm down.]

[crimeson]

[he helps, tugs the blanket away the rest of the way.]

That's it. Breathe.

[voreaciously]

...What are you doing here, sir?

[for that matter, what is she doing here? Her voice sounds surprisingly clear, because she is forcing it to be that way.]

[crimeson]

You collapsed. Do you know what's happening to you?

[voreaciously]

I shut down.

[crimeson]

... Why? It seems like you overheated?

[voreaciously]

[she just stares blankly at the ceiling.]

Yes.

[crimeson]

Did you know you weren't well?

[it's a rhetorical question in some ways-- HE knew, after all.]

[voreaciously]

It did not matter, either way.

[crimeson]

It fucking matters, 80H!

[voreaciously]

[She flinches. She' been acting how she's been acting, but she cannot shirk some forms of displeasure so easily.]

No. It really does not.

[she's already dead.]

[crimeson]

You could've died! You could've burned down the train! Why are you so determined to shut me out?!

[voreaciously]

Ah--

[That's right, she was cooking. She, for once, does not mean to deflect or avoid, but sits up and tries to get out of bed as she remembers she had food on, but she stumbles and falls immediately.]

[crimeson]

[tries to catch her

this is immediately proven to be a bad idea by the noise he makes but he overcommits, not letting her hit the floor.]

Care...ful...!

[voreaciously]

Let go of me, I weigh too much!

[crimeson]

You got it!

[carefully, slowly unloading her onto the bed]

[voreaciously]

The stove--did someone turn it off?

[crimeson]

I got it while you were out.

[voreaciously]

[she can relax a little, but not much. That is wasted food, and what if there is a mess.

Unacceptable.

She starts to get up again, ut, more slowly, this time.]

[crimeson]

You literally just collapsed. Stay in bed. What do you want to do?

[voreaciously]

It's fine. I am fine. I need to tidy after myself.

[crimeson]

I'll clean it up. You stay in bed.

[voreaciously]

There is little point in my doing so.

[her throat is dry and pained, like desert heat. and she would know, she's actually been. but she pushes past that discomfort, pausing a moment to speak normally, hiding the agony she feels.]

I am conscious now, everything is fine.

[and the gems are gone.]

[crimeson]

Don't fuck with me, 80H! Just-- fucking rest! Why is it so hard for you to cooperate?!

[voreaciously]

[She closes her eyes a moment in lieu of flinching.]

This body does not require rest, most of the time. It is an indulgence at best and a waste of time at worst.