DSU Stella Gibson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ex_assertiveness90) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2016-11-20 11:24 pm
ex_assertiveness90) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2016-11-20 11:24 pm
take what the water gave me.
WHO: Stella Gibson
WHERE: The fountain and environs
WHEN: November 20th, afternoon-ish
OPEN TO: Anyone!
WARNINGS: None yet.
STATUS: Open
For an instant, a brief, ridiculous instant, Stella thinks that perhaps she blacked out while she was swimming. It's the first explanation that comes to mind that even makes sense when she realizes she's several feet deep in water. The problem with that explanation is that, on further inspection, it makes no sense at all: she's fully dressed, for one thing, the extra fabric creating drag that makes it harder for her to push against the water. Harder, but not so difficult that she struggles much, legs and arms working together to bring her to the surface in a matter of seconds—
—to realize that she isn't in a pool at all, but a fountain, as she grabs hold of the edge and tries to get her bearings. She's inhaled a little water, enough that she has to lean forward and cough once or twice, deeply, to get it out of her lungs. It's only when she draws breath again that she realizes how cold the air is, colder than freezing if she had her guess, and even more so because she's soaking wet. Stella pulls herself out of the fountain, trying to stifle the rising panic threatening to take hold of her so she can think, pushing her wet hair out of her face with both hands.
She's wearing boots — hiking boots, not the stylish high-heeled boots she's used to — and a top and trousers in dark blue that look like hospital scrubs. There's a pack with something in it, but she's just going to wait to see what it is because she is, quite literally, freezing, and if she doesn't get indoors and near a heat source she is going to be very hypothermic very quickly.
(Other things to consider: this is not Slieve Dove, there are no squad cars, no one on her team is here, and Paul Spector is not bleeding to death in her arms. But she'll deal with that soon enough.)
WHERE: The fountain and environs
WHEN: November 20th, afternoon-ish
OPEN TO: Anyone!
WARNINGS: None yet.
STATUS: Open
For an instant, a brief, ridiculous instant, Stella thinks that perhaps she blacked out while she was swimming. It's the first explanation that comes to mind that even makes sense when she realizes she's several feet deep in water. The problem with that explanation is that, on further inspection, it makes no sense at all: she's fully dressed, for one thing, the extra fabric creating drag that makes it harder for her to push against the water. Harder, but not so difficult that she struggles much, legs and arms working together to bring her to the surface in a matter of seconds—
—to realize that she isn't in a pool at all, but a fountain, as she grabs hold of the edge and tries to get her bearings. She's inhaled a little water, enough that she has to lean forward and cough once or twice, deeply, to get it out of her lungs. It's only when she draws breath again that she realizes how cold the air is, colder than freezing if she had her guess, and even more so because she's soaking wet. Stella pulls herself out of the fountain, trying to stifle the rising panic threatening to take hold of her so she can think, pushing her wet hair out of her face with both hands.
She's wearing boots — hiking boots, not the stylish high-heeled boots she's used to — and a top and trousers in dark blue that look like hospital scrubs. There's a pack with something in it, but she's just going to wait to see what it is because she is, quite literally, freezing, and if she doesn't get indoors and near a heat source she is going to be very hypothermic very quickly.
(Other things to consider: this is not Slieve Dove, there are no squad cars, no one on her team is here, and Paul Spector is not bleeding to death in her arms. But she'll deal with that soon enough.)
no subject
Helen slid off her jacket and offered it to the woman, draping it around her shoulders.
"Come, let me get you indoors before you go and freeze to death. The explanations of this place can wait until then."
no subject
Or maybe it's just that she is actually fucking freezing, and the coat is a light, warm weight over her that improves the feeling considerably. Stella inhales, a little shaky, and has to try not to cough again when the cold, dry air cuts her nose and throat like a knife. She's shaken, and suppressing panic hard, but her mind still works, and from the other woman's words she can immediately deduce two things: that she is not the first person to get here the way she did, and that this happens regularly.
"I'm not the only person who's come out of that fountain, then," she says: a question phrased like a statement. That, of course, invites the question of what she was doing in the fountain in the first place, and who or what put her there — but that, that can wait. Just for a few minutes.
no subject
"I'm happy to explain the lot of it once we get you somewhere warm. There's an inn up along the road. There'll be a fire and something to eat there and then I'll be happy to address any questions you have to...my limited ability."