Sandy Jameson (hearseverything) wrote in commandhq, @ 2018-02-12 13:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | p: mena, rachel cohen, sandy jameson |
Who: Sandy Jameson & Rachel Cohen
What: Welcome to Limbo
When: Monday 13th Feb, afternoon
Where: A little while after this
Rating: PG-13
Cal had stayed with her for a little while, got her set up in her room and then had left her with the promise that he’d be back after he found the others. But after managing to stagger to the bathroom, Sandy had decided that being cooped up in her room while the last of the drugs came out of her system was the last thing she wanted to be doing. It was too quiet, and with silence came other noise. Noise that she couldn’t escape. Even though it was the afternoon, there were enough people in the compound that it was a constant buzz. A bit like the Texas facility but quieter. She wondered if that was because it was outside or if it was because she’d located minds that were safe-havens for her. Maybe a bit of both.
Regardless, she made her way into the common room and flopped onto the couch, lying on her side with an arm tucked under her head and the television on, watching something mindless. Her eyes weren’t really focused on it, though, she was more zoned out as was concentrating on trying to shut the world out of her head bit by bit, brick by brick. The telepaths at the West Texas facility couldn’t help her but they had taught her about visualisation, and how useful that could be. She’d thrown the idea back in their faces but if the only alternative was to be stuck in a drugged up stupor for her entire time here it was worth trying this stupid way of (literally) walling off her mind.
She was easily derailed, though, rushing thoughts caught her attention, the singing beacon of Cassidy’s mind somewhere on the compound, the warm reliability of Calvin’s, the hot touch of Tammy’s and the calm plateau of Alejandro’s. Her people. There were so many of them here. She’d wanted to go out and look for them herself but her knees still weren’t completely cooperating with her. So for now she would have to settle for knowing they were there.
Attention drifting back to the television, she curled her fingers into her palms as she felt another mind approaching, coupled with the sound of footsteps. Surface thoughts told her that this person wasn’t a super, and since there were only a few people that wandered into the barrack common rooms, the person had to be a handler.
Maybe her handler?
She bristled a little. The woman better not have a syringe in her hand.
Not moving, Sandy just lay still on the couch and hoped that the woman would just walk on by and not stop to talk to her. Sandy wasn’t much feeling conversation.