It's been long enough since Nerys last dragged herself, disoriented and dazed, out of the fountain, that she's mostly forgotten what it felt like. It certainly isn't fun by any stretch of the imagination, though there's a slight improvement in that this time, the last thing she remembers is not 'shot at close range with a Starfleet issue phaser'. She had been checking traplines.
Now, clearly, she's not, but priority goes to getting the fuck out of the water, which Nerys does pretty much on auto-pilot. It's not a very graceful maneuver, but there aren't that many people there to witness it, just the other Kira and that doctor guy, Ravi.
Once she's out and, you know, breathing oxygen, the first thing she notices is that none of them are wearing anything remotely like what they would have had on earlier in the day. Scrubs would have been far too thin for this time of year. In fact, by the light in the sky and the length of their hair and Ravi's beard, it's almost certain that this isn't the same day at all. Or even the same month.
The other thing that's strange, on the scale of the already odd things that are happening, is that there's some kind of chronometer and comm unit attached to her wrist. Chief O'Brien could probably jury-rig it in a few minutes' time, but hopefully Picard or Beverly have better engineering skills than Nerys herself. Though, until the next group sputters upwards several long minutes later, she half-believes nobody else is there but the three of them. Not that the company is bad, but the prospect is pretty lonely.
-----
Because of this all, and the process of getting resettled, finding her bungalow (which is no longer shored up by her novice building skills, and the oilpaper of the windows is glass once more), and trying to adjust to the prospect of the world being wiped nearly clean...it takes a little while for Nerys to fully understand the biggest change of all.
Her heart has been pounding, adrenaline rushing, for a good hour. Now that she's not soaked to the bone, now that she's in the Inn and has had a glass of water and a change of clothes, and she has somewhere to stay, hopefully it'll ease back into a normal pace, because it keeps feeling like it's skipping around. There are some people going through the large boxes nearby, and she's resolved to go help them, really, once she's done with this water and her chest feels less tight.
Nerys reaches for the glass of water, and her still-wet hair falls, irritatingly, into her face. She reaches to peel it out of her eyes once more with a faint noise of frustration, then winces as her nails catch on her brow ridges, scratching the thin skin.
She blinks, closes her eyes as her fingertips graze the pronounced bone, and tries to get a hold of herself, check why she's feeling so disoriented. That's about when she realizes why she's feeling so damn strange. It's now beating sideways, the right way, as compared to how it has for nearly two years.
Her eyes snap open. "Hey," she says, and then swallows to get some more saliva, because the noise had sounded like a croak, and was pretty quiet. "Hey, um, I...are any of you a doctor?"
Kira Nerys | Group 1 | OTA
Now, clearly, she's not, but priority goes to getting the fuck out of the water, which Nerys does pretty much on auto-pilot. It's not a very graceful maneuver, but there aren't that many people there to witness it, just the other Kira and that doctor guy, Ravi.
Once she's out and, you know, breathing oxygen, the first thing she notices is that none of them are wearing anything remotely like what they would have had on earlier in the day. Scrubs would have been far too thin for this time of year. In fact, by the light in the sky and the length of their hair and Ravi's beard, it's almost certain that this isn't the same day at all. Or even the same month.
The other thing that's strange, on the scale of the already odd things that are happening, is that there's some kind of chronometer and comm unit attached to her wrist. Chief O'Brien could probably jury-rig it in a few minutes' time, but hopefully Picard or Beverly have better engineering skills than Nerys herself. Though, until the next group sputters upwards several long minutes later, she half-believes nobody else is there but the three of them. Not that the company is bad, but the prospect is pretty lonely.
-----
Because of this all, and the process of getting resettled, finding her bungalow (which is no longer shored up by her novice building skills, and the oilpaper of the windows is glass once more), and trying to adjust to the prospect of the world being wiped nearly clean...it takes a little while for Nerys to fully understand the biggest change of all.
Her heart has been pounding, adrenaline rushing, for a good hour. Now that she's not soaked to the bone, now that she's in the Inn and has had a glass of water and a change of clothes, and she has somewhere to stay, hopefully it'll ease back into a normal pace, because it keeps feeling like it's skipping around. There are some people going through the large boxes nearby, and she's resolved to go help them, really, once she's done with this water and her chest feels less tight.
Nerys reaches for the glass of water, and her still-wet hair falls, irritatingly, into her face. She reaches to peel it out of her eyes once more with a faint noise of frustration, then winces as her nails catch on her brow ridges, scratching the thin skin.
She blinks, closes her eyes as her fingertips graze the pronounced bone, and tries to get a hold of herself, check why she's feeling so disoriented. That's about when she realizes why she's feeling so damn strange. It's now beating sideways, the right way, as compared to how it has for nearly two years.
Her eyes snap open. "Hey," she says, and then swallows to get some more saliva, because the noise had sounded like a croak, and was pretty quiet. "Hey, um, I...are any of you a doctor?"