Elizabeth (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tearmeanewone) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2015-11-29 10:15 pm
tearmeanewone) wrote in thisavrou_log2015-11-29 10:15 pm
Entry tags:
[open] keep your broken arm
Who: Elizabeth DeWitt & Harry Hart / Everybody Who Wants Tea
When: November 27th
Where: Nomo Deck #011
What: Elizabeth has been facing a wardrobe problem for a long time now... Also tea will be served, open-door policy, drop by for some warmth and mingle!
Warnings: WAYWARD YOUNG ADULT
Time had not helped Elizabeth feel anything besides more weight. None of it had been her fault, she'd only done what she could to help, but the images of the planet collapsing and knowing so many people could never go home was enough. She couldn't get rid of the guilt.
It didn't help that she thought her roommate, John Sheppard, had died on the planet as well. He was just gone, and no explanation had been given to her (not that she'd sought one out, of course, she'd still been floating between the library and her quarters like a ghost-- she's about as thin as one now, too). So Elizabeth came home to no one, slept in a silent room, and tried so hard to ignore the strains of Booker tuning his guitar.
The loneliness probably did it, in the end, but the physical frustration was getting her close to snapping too. She knocks on Harry's door, two knocks, quick, because she has to catch the sleeves of the uniform before the whole garment falls down around her ankles. The dressing for her arm is too big to fit in the sleeve-- she's had to wear one sleeve only or tie the sleeves haphazardly around her waist while moving about the ship. It's embarrassing.
"Mr. Hart? It's Elizabeth DeWitt-- is this a bad time?"
When: November 27th
Where: Nomo Deck #011
What: Elizabeth has been facing a wardrobe problem for a long time now... Also tea will be served, open-door policy, drop by for some warmth and mingle!
Warnings: WAYWARD YOUNG ADULT
Time had not helped Elizabeth feel anything besides more weight. None of it had been her fault, she'd only done what she could to help, but the images of the planet collapsing and knowing so many people could never go home was enough. She couldn't get rid of the guilt.
It didn't help that she thought her roommate, John Sheppard, had died on the planet as well. He was just gone, and no explanation had been given to her (not that she'd sought one out, of course, she'd still been floating between the library and her quarters like a ghost-- she's about as thin as one now, too). So Elizabeth came home to no one, slept in a silent room, and tried so hard to ignore the strains of Booker tuning his guitar.
The loneliness probably did it, in the end, but the physical frustration was getting her close to snapping too. She knocks on Harry's door, two knocks, quick, because she has to catch the sleeves of the uniform before the whole garment falls down around her ankles. The dressing for her arm is too big to fit in the sleeve-- she's had to wear one sleeve only or tie the sleeves haphazardly around her waist while moving about the ship. It's embarrassing.
"Mr. Hart? It's Elizabeth DeWitt-- is this a bad time?"
no subject
"Thank you..." she says looking curiously at the set up. Two sets, like he expected to invite whoever was behind the door. Well, she's certainly behind this very solid and comforting gesture-- even if Mr. Hart is just being polite.
"I thought I just needed some help getting this into my sleeve," she said, holding up the large soft cast wrapped from her upper arm all the way to her hand. "But given how great a cup of tea sounds right now, I think that might have just become the last thing on my to-do list."