starter for @reaperknox
It took her three days to recover from the Campania attacks, driving her stir-crazy and impatient, as there was little more she could do besides wait for the wound across her chest and stomach to close up enough for the medical staff to finally feel comfortable discharging her. The mere moment the last stitch was removed, the newest change of bandages was wrapped around her torso, Grelle Sutcliff practically sprinted from the health and wellness branch, intent on getting back to her apartment, where she lit a true legion of candles in her effort to erase the sterile scent of disinfectant soap from her nostrils.
It took her three weeks, then, to finally do what she did.
Those three weeks, see, had been plagued with sleepless nights, haunting nightmares, and fraying nerves.
Ronald had recovered beside her in the infirmary, which meant that when she was haunted by visions of his eternal end, all it took was to roll over and see him breathing in the moonlight for her to relax again, shut her eyes, and go back to sleep, a modicum more peacefully.
Living alone didn’t tend to lend itself to such instant relief.
Of course, she was no delicate thing, so she weathered her troubles just fine, continuing to pester Will, coach her students, turn in her paperwork late, all with her typical color commentary and flashy dress. She kept up her training regimen, her social hours, her readings.
None of it could clear the night terrors. Not really.
So… it took three weeks to finally do what she did.
Exhausted, fed up, and desperate, Grelle slipped from her bed, wrapped herself in a housecoat, slipped on a pair of flats, and ported herself in front of Ronald’s door.
Her knock was clear and loud, and no small amount of urgent.
