She's at the dining table at home with her second tea of the day when the earthquake hits. If she had time, she'd get outside, away from potential falling objects — but everything happens so quickly that all she can do is duck under the table and hold on for dear life, watching as her teacup rattles its way off the edge and cracks to pieces all over the floor, spilling hot liquid and shards of porcelain.
The last time an earthquake hit the village, Stella broke her arm and spent almost two months healing from it, even with occasional trips to the hot springs; she has no intention of letting that happen again, so she waits until she's absolutely sure the shaking has stopped before she makes her way out from under the table. She picks up the bigger pieces of teacup to throw directly in the rubbish and sweeps up the rest, then goes to assess the rest of the damage with the studied composure of someone used to suppressing her emotions in a crisis. Miraculously, the dishes in the kitchen remain intact, but the exterior of the house is another story; the wooden parts of the front porch columns are starting to break loose, and what looks like half the roof shingles are either loose or dislodged entirely into the front garden. Not an entirely impossible repair job, just time-consuming — and something to be reserved for later.
Now, she's just going to do what she sees as her job here, which is to check in at the inn first in case anyone is looking for her — Peggy, mostly, she expects — and then to go around checking on everyone else. Having been through this once already, she knows it might be best to wait till after the aftershocks have passed to repair any structural damage — but emergencies she can help attend to. Injuries, lost persons, anyone in imminent danger. Stella has really never stopped being a police officer to her core, even here.
stella gibson | ota
The last time an earthquake hit the village, Stella broke her arm and spent almost two months healing from it, even with occasional trips to the hot springs; she has no intention of letting that happen again, so she waits until she's absolutely sure the shaking has stopped before she makes her way out from under the table. She picks up the bigger pieces of teacup to throw directly in the rubbish and sweeps up the rest, then goes to assess the rest of the damage with the studied composure of someone used to suppressing her emotions in a crisis. Miraculously, the dishes in the kitchen remain intact, but the exterior of the house is another story; the wooden parts of the front porch columns are starting to break loose, and what looks like half the roof shingles are either loose or dislodged entirely into the front garden. Not an entirely impossible repair job, just time-consuming — and something to be reserved for later.
Now, she's just going to do what she sees as her job here, which is to check in at the inn first in case anyone is looking for her — Peggy, mostly, she expects — and then to go around checking on everyone else. Having been through this once already, she knows it might be best to wait till after the aftershocks have passed to repair any structural damage — but emergencies she can help attend to. Injuries, lost persons, anyone in imminent danger. Stella has really never stopped being a police officer to her core, even here.