Eventually, one imagines the word trickles down to everyone's favorite Dreamspeaker, the shivery cold ferryman. Quite probably, it's Justin who has the distinct (dis)pleasure of telling her that one of the two people she truly gives a shit about in this city is in ICU at some hospital at least a half an hour away from where she is - by car, which she doesn't have and doesn't know how to drive if she did. So she hears, and for a long moment she simply looks at the bearer of bad news, still as a statue or a painting or some similar work of art that might portray a girl-as-death's-handmaiden. For that moment, it might seem as if all the life and breath were sucked out of her, out of the room, maybe out of the whole house, and then, blessedly, she walks out. Not just up to her own room, the smallest and least windowed in the house
[we accept what we think we deserve]
but outside to her trusty, reliable bike, and eventually off the property. It's a relief when she's gone, she knows but doesn't care. If the Chantry is a half hour by car from the city, it's an hour to an hour and a half by bike, and then there's the matter of finding the hospital. However she ends up there, though - and it's quite possible that she won't remember when all is said and done - get there she does. And so it starts - the ghostly gorgeous white girl pacing in the waiting room of ICU, by the chairs at the bank of elevators, whatever. Ana will see her, no doubt, given that Shoshannah is all but impossible not to notice. Maybe it's the ripple of unease that goes through whatever other family members and friends are waiting for news of their loved ones, or maybe it's some other nurse grumbling about the scary girl who just glares and won't talk to anyone or go away, who is clearly at least as uncomfortable and uneasy as she's making everyone else, who stills like a listening animal whenever a doctor comes in to speak with a family, or when anyone comes near at all.
So it goes, until someone finally gets up the nerve to speak to her.
"I would like to see Francisco Echeverria, please. I'm his . . . daughter?"
She's a shitty liar, though, this girl. And while she's obviously interested in his well being, she's not family. Coffee happens with Ana, the mother of Padre's real son, and more spills out of the Dreamspeaker than she tells anyone, ever. It's far more than Ana wants to know, probably, but she's a nurse - it's part of her job to deal with distraught family, and blood or not so Shoshannah appears to be. In her perceptions, anyway.
+++++++++++++++++++
However coffee with Ana ends (I can protect him from ours that might hurt him, she'd offer if given the chance, until he can do it himself again.), be it with Shoshannah back in the waiting area or in Padre's room (given that she's most definitely not actual family, chances are good it's the former), there's a tall, thin, creepily beautiful young woman sitting curled in on herself, worrying at the covers on her wrists and mumbling something, and counting as she goes. I used to be Jewish, she'd said once, and half of what she says is in Hebrew.
For the Conductor, a psalm by David. May the Lord answer you on the day of distress; may the Name of the God of Jacob fortify you. May He send your help from the Sanctuary, and support you from Zion. May He remember all your offerings, and always accept favorably your sacrifices. May He grant you your heart's desire, and fulfill your every counsel. We will rejoice in your deliverance, and raise our banners in the name of our God; may the Lord fulfill all your wishes. Now I know that the Lord has delivered His anointed one, answering him from His holy heavens with the mighty saving power of His right hand. Some [rely] upon chariots and some upon horses, but we [rely upon and] invoke the Name of the Lord our God. They bend and fall, but we rise and stand firm. Lord, deliver us; may the King answer us on the day we call.
====================
[For OOC reference, the Jewish cycle of psalms for the sick/injured/incapacitated is as follows: 20, 6, 9, 13, 16-18, 22-23, 28, 30-33, 37-39, 41, 49, 55-56, 69, 86, 88-91, 102-104, 107, 116, 118, 142-143, 148, and the stanzas of 119 that coincide with the letters of the target's Hebrew name (which Shoshannah'd translate from his actual name).]
[we accept what we think we deserve]
but outside to her trusty, reliable bike, and eventually off the property. It's a relief when she's gone, she knows but doesn't care. If the Chantry is a half hour by car from the city, it's an hour to an hour and a half by bike, and then there's the matter of finding the hospital. However she ends up there, though - and it's quite possible that she won't remember when all is said and done - get there she does. And so it starts - the ghostly gorgeous white girl pacing in the waiting room of ICU, by the chairs at the bank of elevators, whatever. Ana will see her, no doubt, given that Shoshannah is all but impossible not to notice. Maybe it's the ripple of unease that goes through whatever other family members and friends are waiting for news of their loved ones, or maybe it's some other nurse grumbling about the scary girl who just glares and won't talk to anyone or go away, who is clearly at least as uncomfortable and uneasy as she's making everyone else, who stills like a listening animal whenever a doctor comes in to speak with a family, or when anyone comes near at all.
So it goes, until someone finally gets up the nerve to speak to her.
"I would like to see Francisco Echeverria, please. I'm his . . . daughter?"
She's a shitty liar, though, this girl. And while she's obviously interested in his well being, she's not family. Coffee happens with Ana, the mother of Padre's real son, and more spills out of the Dreamspeaker than she tells anyone, ever. It's far more than Ana wants to know, probably, but she's a nurse - it's part of her job to deal with distraught family, and blood or not so Shoshannah appears to be. In her perceptions, anyway.
+++++++++++++++++++
However coffee with Ana ends (I can protect him from ours that might hurt him, she'd offer if given the chance, until he can do it himself again.), be it with Shoshannah back in the waiting area or in Padre's room (given that she's most definitely not actual family, chances are good it's the former), there's a tall, thin, creepily beautiful young woman sitting curled in on herself, worrying at the covers on her wrists and mumbling something, and counting as she goes. I used to be Jewish, she'd said once, and half of what she says is in Hebrew.
For the Conductor, a psalm by David. May the Lord answer you on the day of distress; may the Name of the God of Jacob fortify you. May He send your help from the Sanctuary, and support you from Zion. May He remember all your offerings, and always accept favorably your sacrifices. May He grant you your heart's desire, and fulfill your every counsel. We will rejoice in your deliverance, and raise our banners in the name of our God; may the Lord fulfill all your wishes. Now I know that the Lord has delivered His anointed one, answering him from His holy heavens with the mighty saving power of His right hand. Some [rely] upon chariots and some upon horses, but we [rely upon and] invoke the Name of the Lord our God. They bend and fall, but we rise and stand firm. Lord, deliver us; may the King answer us on the day we call.
====================
[For OOC reference, the Jewish cycle of psalms for the sick/injured/incapacitated is as follows: 20, 6, 9, 13, 16-18, 22-23, 28, 30-33, 37-39, 41, 49, 55-56, 69, 86, 88-91, 102-104, 107, 116, 118, 142-143, 148, and the stanzas of 119 that coincide with the letters of the target's Hebrew name (which Shoshannah'd translate from his actual name).]