Room 7, Carriage House, Sunday evening
"//Promise me you'll lie down, Nadia.//"
Nadia nodded wearily. "//I'm fine now, Sofia. You can go.//"
The older woman crossed her arms, standing in the doorway of the room. "//You've worried me. You've not been eating properly. That's how you got so sick, the doctors told me so.//"
Another nod. "//I know. I'll be okay now, though. You have to go, you have other girls to look after.//"
Sofia's expression softened and she reached out to brush a hand down Nadia's cheek. "//None are as important as you, my dearest Nadia. You must take care of yourself.//"
"//And I do. I've just . . . had a bad time, recently.//"
"//It's that Walter boy, he's doing this to you,//"
Nadia shook her head. "//No, Sofia. Please, you'll miss your flight. I'm fine now.//"
Sofia's hand lingered a moment longer, then she nodded. "//Yes, I'll go. I will call you, check in, though. I want you to be resting.//"
"//I will. I promise.//"
"//I love you, Nadia.//"
That got a tired eye roll, just like always. "//I'll see you, Sofia.//"
And then the older woman was gone, and Nadia was alone.
She lowered herself slowly into her desk chair, by her mirror, putting her head in her hands. What a weekend. She couldn't even remember much of it, just a few snippets of strange dreams. Sofia had explained; she'd collapsed at dinner, Friday night. Spent the weekend being cared for by Sofia in her hotel room, and had only been well enough to come back to Milieux just this evening.
But she'd never been sick like that in her life. Even when she'd lived on the streets, she'd never just lost an entire weekend. It felt more like it had in Russia, when she'd been at the mercy of the Rambaldi cult. Some sort of flashback? She glanced at the clock, then turned back to the mirror.
Gray. Black. Red, gray, black, gray, red. Red sun, gray city, black leather. Red horse, gray skies, black metal.
And green. Harsh, chemical, sickly green. . . .
A gasp, sharp pain in her right hand. Nadia blinked hard, rubbed at her eyes. More pain, and something hot and wet against her face. The smell of copper. She looked at her hand.
She was bleeding. Rather badly, at that. She looked up at the mirror, but her reflection was fractured and pieces were missing. And the red numbers of the clock said half an hour had passed. She looked back down to her hand and watched the blood, then got up to get her first aid kit.
Sofia was right: she needed to take better care of herself. Starting with picking shards of mirror from her hand.
[ooc: I am back from my trip now, yay! But I'm still insane and evil. *grins* Details of mirror-breaking NFB, though Nadia returning and Sofia leaving are fine for broadcast.]
Nadia nodded wearily. "//I'm fine now, Sofia. You can go.//"
The older woman crossed her arms, standing in the doorway of the room. "//You've worried me. You've not been eating properly. That's how you got so sick, the doctors told me so.//"
Another nod. "//I know. I'll be okay now, though. You have to go, you have other girls to look after.//"
Sofia's expression softened and she reached out to brush a hand down Nadia's cheek. "//None are as important as you, my dearest Nadia. You must take care of yourself.//"
"//And I do. I've just . . . had a bad time, recently.//"
"//It's that Walter boy, he's doing this to you,//"
Nadia shook her head. "//No, Sofia. Please, you'll miss your flight. I'm fine now.//"
Sofia's hand lingered a moment longer, then she nodded. "//Yes, I'll go. I will call you, check in, though. I want you to be resting.//"
"//I will. I promise.//"
"//I love you, Nadia.//"
That got a tired eye roll, just like always. "//I'll see you, Sofia.//"
And then the older woman was gone, and Nadia was alone.
She lowered herself slowly into her desk chair, by her mirror, putting her head in her hands. What a weekend. She couldn't even remember much of it, just a few snippets of strange dreams. Sofia had explained; she'd collapsed at dinner, Friday night. Spent the weekend being cared for by Sofia in her hotel room, and had only been well enough to come back to Milieux just this evening.
But she'd never been sick like that in her life. Even when she'd lived on the streets, she'd never just lost an entire weekend. It felt more like it had in Russia, when she'd been at the mercy of the Rambaldi cult. Some sort of flashback? She glanced at the clock, then turned back to the mirror.
Gray. Black. Red, gray, black, gray, red. Red sun, gray city, black leather. Red horse, gray skies, black metal.
And green. Harsh, chemical, sickly green. . . .
A gasp, sharp pain in her right hand. Nadia blinked hard, rubbed at her eyes. More pain, and something hot and wet against her face. The smell of copper. She looked at her hand.
She was bleeding. Rather badly, at that. She looked up at the mirror, but her reflection was fractured and pieces were missing. And the red numbers of the clock said half an hour had passed. She looked back down to her hand and watched the blood, then got up to get her first aid kit.
Sofia was right: she needed to take better care of herself. Starting with picking shards of mirror from her hand.
[ooc: I am back from my trip now, yay! But I'm still insane and evil. *grins* Details of mirror-breaking NFB, though Nadia returning and Sofia leaving are fine for broadcast.]