Waking up. [ When Corstine's eyes snap open, in this strange and alien place, she doesn't take the time to question where she is, or what happened, or any of the other pertinent questions. They don't even come to mind, at first.
No, the first thing to come to mind was 'oh shit, I was asleep.'
Followed shortly thereafter by 'oh SHIT. How long was I asleep?'
She bolted upright in the strange bed, straining the still-healing wounds on her body slightly, and began desperately searching for her belongings. Under the blankets, under her pillow, on the bedside table - but the item she was looking for was nowhere to be found.
So she started yelling. ]
Hey! H-HEY! WHERE'D YOU PUT MY SHIT?
[ She isn't even sure who she's trying to attract the attention of, honestly, but she's the sounds of other people out in the halls. ]
There should be a flute here, somewhere! Where'd you put my fucking flute?
[ Her eyes are wide, and she's out of bed now. She can't remember much - not how she got here, or what sort of place this is - but one of the few things she understands deeply in her soul is that she needs to get her hands back on that instrument, or else something terrible will happen to her. ]
Hey you! Y'seen a flute anywhere? S'bout yea long? I think someone here took my shit, and I need to find it quick.
Items Reclaimed
[ Once someone managed to explain to her that her items could be found at the sheriff's office, Corstine didn't waste any time running there. Barefoot, outside in the cold, wearing nothing but a hospital gown. The only pauses she took were to get her bearings a time or two, and even that was only for a moment.
The look of relied on her face when she gets it back from the sheriff, though, is palpable. She doesn't even waste time putting her clothes on before she snatches the silver flute from the deputy's hand and played a few bars.
She honestly isn't sure why she had been so close to an anxiety attack. She just knew, in the pit of her stomach, that she was so much safer now that she'd managed to get her hands on her instrument.
It's only after that, that she throws on the clothing provided by the sheriff. Bots, a cotton shirt and breeches, a vest made of fur, and a simple iron breastplate and helmet. A bit different than what everyone else had been wearing, but it was a hell of a lot warmer than that gown had been.
And besides, if she really had been in danger, a little bit of added protection couldn't hurt, right?
And so, not even an hour after that display of screaming and panicked running, Corstine can be found walking down main street, away from the sheriff's office. Fully clothed, and far more confident. The woman brings the shiny silver instrument back up to her lips and plays.]
Corstine | Original | OTA
[ When Corstine's eyes snap open, in this strange and alien place, she doesn't take the time to question where she is, or what happened, or any of the other pertinent questions. They don't even come to mind, at first.
No, the first thing to come to mind was 'oh shit, I was asleep.'
Followed shortly thereafter by 'oh SHIT. How long was I asleep?'
She bolted upright in the strange bed, straining the still-healing wounds on her body slightly, and began desperately searching for her belongings. Under the blankets, under her pillow, on the bedside table - but the item she was looking for was nowhere to be found.
So she started yelling. ]
Hey! H-HEY! WHERE'D YOU PUT MY SHIT?
[ She isn't even sure who she's trying to attract the attention of, honestly, but she's the sounds of other people out in the halls. ]
There should be a flute here, somewhere! Where'd you put my fucking flute?
[ Her eyes are wide, and she's out of bed now. She can't remember much - not how she got here, or what sort of place this is - but one of the few things she understands deeply in her soul is that she needs to get her hands back on that instrument, or else something terrible will happen to her. ]
Hey you! Y'seen a flute anywhere? S'bout yea long? I think someone here took my shit, and I need to find it quick.
Items Reclaimed
[ Once someone managed to explain to her that her items could be found at the sheriff's office, Corstine didn't waste any time running there. Barefoot, outside in the cold, wearing nothing but a hospital gown. The only pauses she took were to get her bearings a time or two, and even that was only for a moment.
The look of relied on her face when she gets it back from the sheriff, though, is palpable. She doesn't even waste time putting her clothes on before she snatches the silver flute from the deputy's hand and played a few bars.
She honestly isn't sure why she had been so close to an anxiety attack. She just knew, in the pit of her stomach, that she was so much safer now that she'd managed to get her hands on her instrument.
It's only after that, that she throws on the clothing provided by the sheriff. Bots, a cotton shirt and breeches, a vest made of fur, and a simple iron breastplate and helmet. A bit different than what everyone else had been wearing, but it was a hell of a lot warmer than that gown had been.
And besides, if she really had been in danger, a little bit of added protection couldn't hurt, right?
And so, not even an hour after that display of screaming and panicked running, Corstine can be found walking down main street, away from the sheriff's office. Fully clothed, and far more confident. The woman brings the shiny silver instrument back up to her lips and plays.]