I am the passenger

The trouble with arguing with Pippi was, now she was rooming with her, and was much more likely to have to, you know, see her and talk to her again really quickly after said argument.

And Nadia really wasn't in the mood for that, tonight.

She briefly considered crashing in 507 again, but decided against it. She'd just have to suck it up and deal, or possibly just not talk to Pippi. She headed into the room and went over to her bed to pull out a notebook and scribble down what she remembered of her dreams from the last few weeks, what she remembered of her vision quest and meditations, and a few notes about the memorial that day.

Seemed like a decent thing to do.

[ooc: open for roomies and visitors]

She would later wonder if it was sitting up in the cold the night before that had done it, or if it had to do with left over frustration at Chad, or something else entirely. A question for Dr. Pevensie when she saw her again.

Whatever the cause, Nadia woke up gasping for breath on Friday morning, curled tightly into a ball under her covers, and shivering.

The dream, what she could remember of it, had been very simple. Alone in a small, dark space. Cold and unable to move as horrible things happened around her. She couldn't remember what the horrible things were, though she'd tried, in case this was one of those dreams. They fluttered just at the edges of her conciousness, refusing to come out to be examined and fixed.

So she stayed curled up under her blanket, quietly shivering to herself, waiting for her heart to slow back down to a normal rate and her breathing to stop rasping slightly so she could move on from the dream and onto her day.

[ooc: door is closed, but people are welcome to knock should they care to. The roomie, of course, doesn't have to knock.]

Nadia should have been sleeping. Since she hadn't done much of that this week. But the whole thing with Jamie was still bugging her.

When Walter had been evil, it hadn't been him. It really, clearly hadn't. But Jamie being evil . . . was apparently just an evil side of the real Jamie.

She didn't know what to think of that. Jamie had obviously been upset by the whole thing, but how easy would it be to have it all happen again? He'd promised it wouldn't. Could she trust that?

Did she want to deal with possibly having another new roommate? What if the new one was somehow even worse?

She didn't like thinking about all that, so she pulled out her laptop and opened up the adventure story. Writing it always helped clear her thoughts.

Elena stared down the barrel of the gun held by her estranged friend, Jerome, as though she could will the bullet to remain in the chamber with her mind alone. . . .

[ooc: open, since the lock is still cut out of the door. . . .]

Nadia's arms were itching.

This probably had a lot to do with the ace-bandage-and-medical-and-gaffers-tape "casts" that were still on both of them. Fortunately, whatever it was that had shrunk all her clothes down so they would fit her this weekend had apparently grown the casts so they weren't, oh, cutting off the circulation in both her arms.

That would be bad.

Nadia would worry about all the various worrying things that had happened this weekend--like marrying Walter and Pippi, omg!--later. First, she had to get these damned bandage things off her arms before they drove her crazy.

This was rather slow going, since, despite all it's various amazing attachments, her leatherman didn't have a knife that was built to cut through several layers of fabric, plastic, and rubber-based adhesive.

Ow,

And she kept poking herself with it.

Dammit.