Nightshift 29: F11-20 Hallway
Momo had spent her dinner in silence, her roommate missing yet again. The shinigami hadn't liked being alone with her thoughts because she couldn't find enough things to do to keep from thinking about him and the things she'd been told. It was much easier to remind herself that she was dead and everyone else just hadn't accepted the fact yet. They were all waiting for birth into the living world and the rest needed this place, the adversity and this quest for freedom to keep going.
Maybe it was through finding the means to escape this place that one found the path that lead to birth and a new life, a new turn in the cycle. It made her wonder, though, how many of them wanted to continue into the cycle and how many wanted to hang onto what they had been in their last bit of existence. What did she want?
It had been painful, but after eating her fish, Momo had changed into her shinigami uniform and tucked the sling into her sash. She couldn't put the thing back on herself, as she was right-handed, but she acknowledged it was needed. Using her right arm as little as possible, she'd gathered her journal, several pens and her flashlight up. She once again hung the flashlight from her sash, the cloth over the light to mute it, and wrapped a twisted sheet diagonally across her chest in case she needed it. She slid the katana into her belt on her right, so she could draw it with her left if it was needed and then slipped the journal into the back of her hakama.
Gripping the sheet with her right hand to keep that arm reasonably immobile, Momo waited, pacing and wishing she had her full vision. She'd decided her course because she couldn't sit idle, but the time was passing too slowly. She didn't even react to the latest version of the intercom, nodding only slightly. The doors clicked open and the broken shinigami left. She had at least one really important thing she needed to do and that would give her focus, for now.
[to here]
Maybe it was through finding the means to escape this place that one found the path that lead to birth and a new life, a new turn in the cycle. It made her wonder, though, how many of them wanted to continue into the cycle and how many wanted to hang onto what they had been in their last bit of existence. What did she want?
It had been painful, but after eating her fish, Momo had changed into her shinigami uniform and tucked the sling into her sash. She couldn't put the thing back on herself, as she was right-handed, but she acknowledged it was needed. Using her right arm as little as possible, she'd gathered her journal, several pens and her flashlight up. She once again hung the flashlight from her sash, the cloth over the light to mute it, and wrapped a twisted sheet diagonally across her chest in case she needed it. She slid the katana into her belt on her right, so she could draw it with her left if it was needed and then slipped the journal into the back of her hakama.
Gripping the sheet with her right hand to keep that arm reasonably immobile, Momo waited, pacing and wishing she had her full vision. She'd decided her course because she couldn't sit idle, but the time was passing too slowly. She didn't even react to the latest version of the intercom, nodding only slightly. The doors clicked open and the broken shinigami left. She had at least one really important thing she needed to do and that would give her focus, for now.
[to here]