Re: Marzanna/Chernobog - 10 pm, the poor doors/pool area
The memory rang as clear as a bell through Alex's head; she could remember how her muscles wouldn't bend, how it had taken the utmost effort to simply walk. But it was a foggy memory, like how one barely recalls having a stuffy nose when sick. The fact that her legs were swinging freely now, carrying them past the others in the hall and toward the elevator (which, she hoped, would be fully functional—that was the last thing anyone needed right now, for the elevator to be out) made the idea of being Marzanna more unreal than it already was.
"No, I'm fine," she said, all those thoughts traveling through her brain in the flash of a synapse. "I don't... It's just a memory. Like a dream." Like the dream they'd shared before. Alex brought them to a slow stop before the elevators, dinging the button five times as though such a demand would hasten the car. She cast a glance back toward worried faces, one dark haired woman crying, paramedics seeing to a man on the floor that they were trying to carefully place on a stretcher without wounding him further.
"It looks like the night could have been a lot worse..."