When Cecilia had woken up in her own bed, Neptune and Minerva snuggled close on either side of her, she'd been unable to keep from crying. She didn't even know why she was doing it; pure relief, perhaps. She was in terrible pain and would have loved nothing better than to go back to sleep, but she didn't have that luxury. She went into the bathroom, popped a handful of ibuprofen, and went through the long process of cleaning up and tending to her own wounds. The gash in her knee that had been previously been taped up began lazily oozing blood again when she prodded it, so she'd stitched the wound herself. After dressing - painstakingly slowly - she posted to the network, grabbed her supply bag and headed on her way. She wanted to keep Neptune with her today, and didn't have the heart to leave Minerva on her own, so she took both dogs. She didn't figure anyone would have an issue with that, and if they did? Well, honestly just fuck them. Even if anyone had a problem, she didn't think anyone in the house would take one look at her face and have the balls to say a single word about it.
The stairs were agony. She had managed to climb them out of sheer stubbornness, imagining the whole while what Owen might say if he knew she couldn't manage them. She could have taken the chair lift, but honestly fuck that too. Fuck that and them and Them and just everything in particular. Her new mantra for the day.
Minerva had made several laps of the hall in the time it took Cecilia to get from the landing to Edwin's door. Her knees still hurt like hell, but she was doing her best to downplay the limp on her right side. She wasn't sure whether she would have liked to pass out or vomit more in the moments she worked at catching her breath before knocking on the door. It was a very close thing.