would you help me rise up

[ex_assertiveness90]

WHO: Stella Gibson
WHERE: Near the inn, then the hospital, then around the village
WHEN: July 1st-3rd
OPEN TO: Various closed threads and an OTA section for post-earthquake recovery nonsense (see headers)
WARNINGS: Descriptions of injuries

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near the inn ; July 1st ; locked to Kate and Beverly

It's looking to be just one more day in the village, as far as Stella can tell. Excruciatingly hot, of course, to the point where she can't stand to spend more than a few minutes outside — it's no cooler indoors, but at least there she won't sunburn to a crisp. She's on her way back to her house from the inn, as quickly as she can go, to see how Peggy's feeling and if she has any thoughts on dinner—

—when the ground starts shaking under her feet. She remembers having heard from some of the other residents that this happened before, but to her, it's new and alarming and she has to allow herself a second to focus past the immediate gut reaction, the rush of adrenaline and the instant quickening of her heart rate. Earthquakes aren't familiar territory to her, but she knows enough to realize she should get away from buildings and trees, somewhere out in the open where nothing can fall on her.

Unfortunately, knowing what to do and actually being able to do it are two separate things, and her mind works just that much faster than her body does. One moment she's making to head for the open; the next, a heavy piece of debris from one of the houses falls and knocks her right off her feet, flat on her face, trapping her halfway underneath it. At first, she's too dazed to move; it takes her a few seconds to manage to curl in on herself a bit and move her arms to protect her head. When the shaking stops, after what feels like an eternity, she starts to disentangle herself slowly, still in a bit of shock. She gets out from under the debris that struck her, aware of mild pain all up and down her left side that is probably the result of scrapes and bruises from the fall. Nothing too terrible, she thinks, and once she's got a chance to make sure everyone else is all right she'll find a mirror and clean up.

Stella manages to sit up, goes to push herself to her feet by putting her weight onto her left arm, and immediately there's a deep, shocking pain in her forearm so strong she loses her breath. Gasping, momentarily dizzied, she falls forward slightly, catches herself on her right hand. She's only wearing the white vest top she'd been given in her pack when she first got here, leaving her arms bare, so there's no disguising the fact that when she looks down at her left arm, it's definitely crooked and swelling fast. She's gone and broken her fucking arm.

"Fuck," she breathes, and — she shouldn't be, but she's trying to get up anyway, putting all her weight on her right side now. It's as if being conscious of the break makes it hurt even more, because even the slightest movement brings pain. "Shit."

She's not getting very far by herself, but Stella keeps thinking if she can just stand up, she can make it to the hospital and someone can set her arm. The problem is that between the pain, the mild persistent dizziness and now the slight nausea, standing up is the hard part.

the hospital ; July 1st-2nd ; locked to current CR

Stella's all right now, or at least mostly so for a woman with a broken arm currently splinted and bandaged and wrapped up in a makeshift sling. Beverly's ordered her an additional day of bed rest, for observation purposes and maybe because she looks like she needs it. The problem, naturally, is that Stella hates being laid up in bed for any reason whatsoever, illness or injury notwithstanding, and she's profoundly bored. The aftershocks from the quake don't help; the room shakes a bit periodically, she tenses in reaction and has to force herself to relax.

She's sitting up a bit at least, extra pillows propping her up; in between breaks to eat or drink something or Beverly coming in every few hours to check on her arm — Stella herself knows a little about how this works, that she needs to make sure she's not losing sensation in her wrist or her hand or that the wrapping isn't too tight — she's mostly dozing a little, more tired than she really expected to be. She's healing, it's natural she should need to sleep, but... well, she hasn't been injured like this since she broke her ankle falling hard off her bicycle when she was ten. It's been a while.

Company. She wouldn't mind company, but she's not going to ask for it, either. The whole village is busy cleaning up in the aftermath — and this frustrates her too, because she should be out there with them doing all she can to help, and instead she's stuck in a hospital bed.

Fuck this place, honestly.

around the village ; July 3rd ; OTA

When Stella's finally been given the all clear to get out of bed, the first thing she does is go out into the village and see what she can do to help. Everything is a mess, understandably, and there's really only so much she can do with only one good arm.

But she'll stop, whenever she sees someone who looks like they need a helping hand or just someone to talk to for a few minutes. In the aftermath of a crisis situation, morale is just as important as the physical repairing and rebuilding. She's never been effusively kind or warm, that's simply not her way, but even a few calm reassurances or a few minutes' pause to ask how someone's coping can help.