Who: Storm OT Anybody at Haven When: Mid-morning Dec. 22 Where: Storm's room What: She's resting under doctor's orders not to push it.
Home again. Storm breathed the air of her bedroom, with its combination of jungle, a touch of dust, and bitter winter, with a palpable relief. After spending the first 24 hours of her return in the infirmary suffering from dehydration, malnutrition, and severe fatigue on top of the broken wrist and various other minor injuries thanks to her escape, she'd been told, in no uncertain terms, she could return to her room provided she did not do anything strenuous. This of course included her usual work out routine, her gardening, and visiting for more than a half hour at a time.
Her orders currently were to recover. As much as she chafed at being told what she could and could not do, Storm acquiesced. Lying in bed, looking across the room toward the French doors leading out onto her balcony, she took stock of the situation. She was home. Safe, alive, and ostensibly whole. Her hair was going to grow back after all. Eventually the numbers tattooed into her scalp would be lost in a sea of snowy white and she would cease to think about them. According to the calendar, it was the 22nd. She'd come home just in time to celebrate Christmas with her family. Mya, bless her little lost heart, had come up and poked her head in, staying only long enough to give Ororo a somewhat garbled account of going to a coffee shop all by herself and running into Jamie which included a bit of babbling about a party of some kind. While Ororo didn't understand most of it, she smiled and nodded along because understanding was not a necessity when dealing with Mya. One had only to love her and she was quite content whether you understood her or not. The younger woman had then gone off again to do whatever it was she tended to do during the day, after extorting a promise of making cookies sometime soon. That was something Ororo could easily agree to. Besides, making cookies was hardly stressful.
Sitting up, she pulled her pillows into shape to help her stay that way. Wisdom would probably visit at some point during the day, as would other members of the team. She was not prepared in any way to take her duties up again, not yet, but she would be soon enough. Once she was cleared by the medical team, she'd be more than happy to return to what could be called active duty. Which brought her back to Wisdom's claim of guilt for what happened. It was strange in her mind really. He acted as if he were solely responsible for everything that went wrong. Catholic guilt in the extreme. The whole idea made her chuckle a bit painfully. Oh well, so long as he was occupied with making himself feel better and atoning for a nonexistent crime, she wouldn't stand in his way. Moping would have been a problem, but he wasn't moping.
Closing her eyes, she let herself think back and wonder why it was done at all. What sense did it make to try and weaponize human beings? Did they not realize eventually, no matter what method was used, they were going to break free? Slaves always desired freedom, no matter the reason for their slavery or how it was enacted. Such an idea was doomed to failure before it even began. If nothing else, that was a comforting thought.