Log: Clarice, Pixie and Gaia
Sep. 10th, 2024 08:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsGaia sleeps the sleep of the telekinetic until Pixie calms her and Clarice can ensure everyone's safety.
The girl had yet to wake, but this was not completely surprising after a display of power such as she had shown. They’d set her up in one of the quarantine chambers of the basement, and up until then all had been uneventful. Peaceful, even. Her vitals stabilized, the pink-haired mutant was an image of quiet, sharp contrast to the violence in which she entered.
Or had been, at least.
A loud crash could be heard from her room, and the shattering of glass that echoed throughout the basement.
Pixie startled, her pen dropping to the floor. She had been watching the swirling energies of the portal-like station, glancing at the readings on the screen every now and then, when the crash reverberated through the chapel basement. She had been so focused on her wormhole duty (OK, and maybe a little sketching of those mesmerizing swirling patterns) that it took her a moment to realize the source of the disturbance. It had come from the direction of the quarantine chambers.
Pixie sprinted down the corridor, her feet barely touching the floor as her wings lent a lightness to her step. When she looked into the quarantine chamber, her obsidian eyes widened in shock. The mutant in the chamber was in the midst of a terrifying fit, the very fabric of reality twisting and warping around her.
Their visitor shook violently as the medical equipment around her twisted and snaked. The IV needle bunched up in her arm and the tube burst in several places. Whatever had been on her bedside had been thrown to the ground. Various items dashed around the room. A package of gauze flew so far it hit the viewing door window with a smack. Her blankets floated above her in the air, and though her eyes were open, they were glowing and unseeing, mouth wide at some unseen terror.
Pixie longed to comfort the other girl, to reach out and offer the solace that her dust could provide. The thought of using her powers to soothe the girl's mind and stabilize the chaotic reality was tempting—she knew it could help. But a part of her recognized that this situation required more than just her abilities, it needed a medical professional.
Pixie tapped her comms. "Clarice?"
Checking on (and setting up) a medical space in the chapel quarantine wasn't that hard if you were a teleporter and Clarice was. Instead of responding through the comms, she appeared at the wormhole monitoring station, "Hey, Pixie," she said, "How's the patient?" Not good, from the looks of it.
"Thank goddess you're here. One minute, everything was quiet, and then this—" she gestured at the objects that were now caught in the telekinetic maelstrom, floating and spinning in defiance of gravity—"started happening." Despite her training with Clarice, which had taught her to maintain her calm in such situations, there was a deep worry in Pixie's tone. The sight of the mutant struggling, her powers spiraling out of control, struck a chord within her.
"Okay," Clarice murmured, eyes on their guest and the monitors around her. "Can you dust her to help calm her down?" That was the best option of several less great ones. If not, plan B was always on deck.
Pixie nodded. "Hi, I don't know if you can hear me right now, but we're here to help. You're safe, OK?" she said through the door. "I'm going in," she said to Clarice, knowing the teleporter could rescue her if things went haywire. Waiting for an opening, she darted into the room and shut the door behind her, ducking to avoid a roll of bandages. "I can use my dust to soothe your mind. It's a little like... well, like a mushroom trip. People tend to feel a calming oneness with the world, but you might see patterns and colors that aren't really there. I don't want that to come as a shock. It'll help settle your mind, but if anything feels too intense, just focus on me. I'll be here the whole time to make sure you're OK."
Pixie winced as the IV sprayed liquid onto her arm. "If you want me to treat you, raise your finger." Hopefully with the girl's mind settled, reality would stabilize as well.
A water glass whizzed right past Pixie's head and cracked against the wall behind her.
The hand closest to her twitched slightly, and then the pointer finger did. There was at least some level of awareness from the comatose mutant, although she remained locked in her telekinetic trance.
Pixie took it as a sign. She glanced at Clarice through the viewing window, then turned back to the patient. With a deep breath, Pixie summoned her dust, feeling the familiar tingle as it rose to the surface of her skin, shimmering like a fine, iridescent powder. Fluttering her wings gently, she carefully began to release the dust. It glimmered in the air of the quarantine chamber, floating before settling on the other girl's skin.
"Just breathe," Pixie encouraged. "Settle into this moment, into this time and space. Don't try to fight the distortions. Relax and let them fade. You're here, in this reality, with us."
Slowly but surely, the chamber began to calm. Objects stopped floating and equipment ceased its writhing. The static in the air faded. Her blankets descended down onto the bed, and at long last the girl collapsed back into the pillows, glowing eyes sliding shut. Whatever nightmare their visitor had been subject to, the fellow pink-haired mutant had been able to guide it away with her dust.
"You're doing great. Stay with us," Pixie whispered. "It's working."
Clarice ported in so she was in Pixie's line of sight, but behind the girl in bed, quickly snapping an inhibitor collar on her. "I'll stay and monitor," she said to Pixie, concerned at the possibility of unforseen side effects with an inhibitor collar. "You did good. Thanks."
"I'm just glad I could help." Pixe was glowing with pride and relief. "When you're awake," she addressed the girl, "We'll meet again, right?"
No response came from the comatose mutant, quiet and still once more.
The girl had yet to wake, but this was not completely surprising after a display of power such as she had shown. They’d set her up in one of the quarantine chambers of the basement, and up until then all had been uneventful. Peaceful, even. Her vitals stabilized, the pink-haired mutant was an image of quiet, sharp contrast to the violence in which she entered.
Or had been, at least.
A loud crash could be heard from her room, and the shattering of glass that echoed throughout the basement.
Pixie startled, her pen dropping to the floor. She had been watching the swirling energies of the portal-like station, glancing at the readings on the screen every now and then, when the crash reverberated through the chapel basement. She had been so focused on her wormhole duty (OK, and maybe a little sketching of those mesmerizing swirling patterns) that it took her a moment to realize the source of the disturbance. It had come from the direction of the quarantine chambers.
Pixie sprinted down the corridor, her feet barely touching the floor as her wings lent a lightness to her step. When she looked into the quarantine chamber, her obsidian eyes widened in shock. The mutant in the chamber was in the midst of a terrifying fit, the very fabric of reality twisting and warping around her.
Their visitor shook violently as the medical equipment around her twisted and snaked. The IV needle bunched up in her arm and the tube burst in several places. Whatever had been on her bedside had been thrown to the ground. Various items dashed around the room. A package of gauze flew so far it hit the viewing door window with a smack. Her blankets floated above her in the air, and though her eyes were open, they were glowing and unseeing, mouth wide at some unseen terror.
Pixie longed to comfort the other girl, to reach out and offer the solace that her dust could provide. The thought of using her powers to soothe the girl's mind and stabilize the chaotic reality was tempting—she knew it could help. But a part of her recognized that this situation required more than just her abilities, it needed a medical professional.
Pixie tapped her comms. "Clarice?"
Checking on (and setting up) a medical space in the chapel quarantine wasn't that hard if you were a teleporter and Clarice was. Instead of responding through the comms, she appeared at the wormhole monitoring station, "Hey, Pixie," she said, "How's the patient?" Not good, from the looks of it.
"Thank goddess you're here. One minute, everything was quiet, and then this—" she gestured at the objects that were now caught in the telekinetic maelstrom, floating and spinning in defiance of gravity—"started happening." Despite her training with Clarice, which had taught her to maintain her calm in such situations, there was a deep worry in Pixie's tone. The sight of the mutant struggling, her powers spiraling out of control, struck a chord within her.
"Okay," Clarice murmured, eyes on their guest and the monitors around her. "Can you dust her to help calm her down?" That was the best option of several less great ones. If not, plan B was always on deck.
Pixie nodded. "Hi, I don't know if you can hear me right now, but we're here to help. You're safe, OK?" she said through the door. "I'm going in," she said to Clarice, knowing the teleporter could rescue her if things went haywire. Waiting for an opening, she darted into the room and shut the door behind her, ducking to avoid a roll of bandages. "I can use my dust to soothe your mind. It's a little like... well, like a mushroom trip. People tend to feel a calming oneness with the world, but you might see patterns and colors that aren't really there. I don't want that to come as a shock. It'll help settle your mind, but if anything feels too intense, just focus on me. I'll be here the whole time to make sure you're OK."
Pixie winced as the IV sprayed liquid onto her arm. "If you want me to treat you, raise your finger." Hopefully with the girl's mind settled, reality would stabilize as well.
A water glass whizzed right past Pixie's head and cracked against the wall behind her.
The hand closest to her twitched slightly, and then the pointer finger did. There was at least some level of awareness from the comatose mutant, although she remained locked in her telekinetic trance.
Pixie took it as a sign. She glanced at Clarice through the viewing window, then turned back to the patient. With a deep breath, Pixie summoned her dust, feeling the familiar tingle as it rose to the surface of her skin, shimmering like a fine, iridescent powder. Fluttering her wings gently, she carefully began to release the dust. It glimmered in the air of the quarantine chamber, floating before settling on the other girl's skin.
"Just breathe," Pixie encouraged. "Settle into this moment, into this time and space. Don't try to fight the distortions. Relax and let them fade. You're here, in this reality, with us."
Slowly but surely, the chamber began to calm. Objects stopped floating and equipment ceased its writhing. The static in the air faded. Her blankets descended down onto the bed, and at long last the girl collapsed back into the pillows, glowing eyes sliding shut. Whatever nightmare their visitor had been subject to, the fellow pink-haired mutant had been able to guide it away with her dust.
"You're doing great. Stay with us," Pixie whispered. "It's working."
Clarice ported in so she was in Pixie's line of sight, but behind the girl in bed, quickly snapping an inhibitor collar on her. "I'll stay and monitor," she said to Pixie, concerned at the possibility of unforseen side effects with an inhibitor collar. "You did good. Thanks."
"I'm just glad I could help." Pixe was glowing with pride and relief. "When you're awake," she addressed the girl, "We'll meet again, right?"
No response came from the comatose mutant, quiet and still once more.
