1.2 : Bruises

Sliding down the stairs would've been more dramatic, but Shaen hadn't had control of herself again to grab a binder or something equivalently flat-like to span the steps. So she ran down them two at a time, each downward leap sending a shock through her atrophied muscles. How long had it been this time that she had been so damn ordinary anyway? Sitting at her desk like a statue, oblivious to the fact that New NewLosSan Tokyorkdonton was just out of her grasp. Growling at herself for having lost sense of time again, she flew down the stairs, passing the floors at great speed.

There were still many more floors to go when she suddenly stopped, her legs trembling as she hung onto the railing, grasping onto it for dear life. Why in the name of all things destroyable had she chosen to work so high up in the Company anyway? At the time, it must have had something to do with being able to control people or something. Before she had started to die so quickly again, with the Company telling her what to use and how to type. Standing was taking too much strength with all those flights behind her, and Shaen was aware as she hadn't been in ages of her body.

It ached. There was a glory in that, there was no mistake about that. But, glory still hurt, and that was made all the more terrible for how long it had been since such a sensation had gripped her muscles and tore at her lungs. Even the cold was piercing here from inside, each sharp breath introducing more jagged ice spears to remind her. As much as the pain alleviated her concerns about if she had actually died this time, it was aggravating and incapacitating for the moment. Rather than risk body-death by continuing without rest, she sat on the escape, regardless of the dirt that now clung to the previously immaculate black slacks.

The blood in the sky was being driven down by the oppressive night. Resting her chin on the lower of the two support rails that laid beneath the hand-bar, Shaen wondered if this time would be any different. There were some memories that came easily to her still, things that she had long ago learned from and knew better than to ignore. But there were other small losses that were beyond her comprehension even now, sitting in this place and becoming one with her body again. Defeat was a rugged, angry thing that she knew all too well. Scowling as dusk's end was made as clear as hers had been so many times before, it became clear that she would need to keep moving.

With the eve properly fallen, she had work to do that could not be put off simply because her body was busy adjusting to being used again.

WC: 476