Lately, it seemed like every day she woke up in this place it came with a vague headache and a lurking feeling that something wasn't right. Mostly she closed her eyes again, took a breath and got out of bed.
Today she woke up almost screaming as the earth rushed up to meet her and... but it was just a dream, wasn't it? She was sweaty and breathless and more confused than she had been her whole time here, trying to piece together why she remembered a girl with strawberry hair, or an impossible city that surely couldn't exist. How could she remember flying when even witches did not fly? Or all the lights and flashes and a call that never went through, some kind of bomb and then stars... so many stars and huge black things in the sky. Ships? How could they be ships? How could anything but a bird be in the sky?
How could she fall and live? Because god, she had fallen, the fall had woken her, the sickening feeling of knowing for sure that this was the end but it wasn't, because she was here. Wasn't she?
Morgana jumped out of bed, half expecting a strange suit metal suit of armour to follow her and almost surprised when she was just in orange, like always.
As she did her best to calm down and pull her hair into something resembling a braid Morgana remembered something. Stark... Tony? Was she Tony in her dreams? Why? How? He was her friend, but she didn't even know what that thing in his chest was nevermind much about what his home life was, if that's what it was. It couldn't be a vision, surely, there was too much sky, too much of everything to pack it even into the sprawling Complex.
Perhaps it was the computer? Could the computer do that, just add things to her memory as it wished? And if so, why? Why this, why now? Were rows of dancing girls, a pretty woman and a trip through the sky something she needed to know?
Morgana bit her lip and forced herself out the door and down to the commissary wishing she could understand this place, ever, even for only a day.
---
Afternoon + Evening
Her brain feels like it's scrambling for some sort of sense, some reason the whole damn day and so she ignored the lunch bell, instead tending to a small batch of plants that needed a little extra attention. Most of the work was really done by bots but Morgana found they didn't always do the job as well as they ought so she lingered, adjusting the soil, gently pruning off dead leaves with her fingers and chatting quietly to them — Buffy did say it was proven to help, which was enough of an excuse for her. The computer wanted a healthy crop, afterall.
By the time she leaves work her stomach growls and she resigns herself to wandering to the commissary, where she stays, curious about whatever "first aid" was, and more importantly, how they treated wounds in this place. It seemed like a handy skill to brush up on lately.
Plus, Izzy would be there and though she hadn't met Clint face to face she liked his willingness to tie Steve up before he hurt himself, yet again.
no subject
Lately, it seemed like every day she woke up in this place it came with a vague headache and a lurking feeling that something wasn't right. Mostly she closed her eyes again, took a breath and got out of bed.
Today she woke up almost screaming as the earth rushed up to meet her and... but it was just a dream, wasn't it? She was sweaty and breathless and more confused than she had been her whole time here, trying to piece together why she remembered a girl with strawberry hair, or an impossible city that surely couldn't exist. How could she remember flying when even witches did not fly? Or all the lights and flashes and a call that never went through, some kind of bomb and then stars... so many stars and huge black things in the sky. Ships? How could they be ships? How could anything but a bird be in the sky?
How could she fall and live? Because god, she had fallen, the fall had woken her, the sickening feeling of knowing for sure that this was the end but it wasn't, because she was here. Wasn't she?
Morgana jumped out of bed, half expecting a strange suit metal suit of armour to follow her and almost surprised when she was just in orange, like always.
As she did her best to calm down and pull her hair into something resembling a braid Morgana remembered something. Stark... Tony? Was she Tony in her dreams? Why? How? He was her friend, but she didn't even know what that thing in his chest was nevermind much about what his home life was, if that's what it was. It couldn't be a vision, surely, there was too much sky, too much of everything to pack it even into the sprawling Complex.
Perhaps it was the computer? Could the computer do that, just add things to her memory as it wished? And if so, why? Why this, why now? Were rows of dancing girls, a pretty woman and a trip through the sky something she needed to know?
Morgana bit her lip and forced herself out the door and down to the commissary wishing she could understand this place, ever, even for only a day.
---
Afternoon + Evening
Her brain feels like it's scrambling for some sort of sense, some reason the whole damn day and so she ignored the lunch bell, instead tending to a small batch of plants that needed a little extra attention. Most of the work was really done by bots but Morgana found they didn't always do the job as well as they ought so she lingered, adjusting the soil, gently pruning off dead leaves with her fingers and chatting quietly to them — Buffy did say it was proven to help, which was enough of an excuse for her. The computer wanted a healthy crop, afterall.
By the time she leaves work her stomach growls and she resigns herself to wandering to the commissary, where she stays, curious about whatever "first aid" was, and more importantly, how they treated wounds in this place. It seemed like a handy skill to brush up on lately.
Plus, Izzy would be there and though she hadn't met Clint face to face she liked his willingness to tie Steve up before he hurt himself, yet again.