[Open] Sickening Static Surrounds My Mind
Who: Shen Qingqiu (
xiaoxiuya)
What: Open log for Shen Qingqiu's return after a month-long absence
When: After the beach party
Where: The enforcer's office, the temple, & all over town
Warning(s): Discussion of mental assault, resulting in long-lasting injury.
The morning after his sudden and unexpected appearance at the beach party, Shen Qingqiu marches himself into Janine Kilbride's office in order to bow before her desk and apologize. He tells her plainly that he sustained a psychic injury during the shared dream experienced by CT, John Crichton, and so many others, and as a result of this injury he is unable to account for his whereabouts this past month. However, he swears that he is fit to return to work.
This...may not be entirely true.
"Reduced" is the best word to describe the Shen Qingqiu that rejoins his fellow enforcers that day. No longer does he gracefully flit from room to room like a leaf on the wind; he walks like an ordinary mortal. No longer does he forego food or breaks, nor does he appear to be as fresh at the end of the day as he was when he walked in. He eats like a starving man, and as morning turns to afternoon a pinched look comes over his face. He winces when spoken to, closes doors and cabinets with exaggerated care, and can sometimes be caught rubbing his temples or pinching the bridge of his nose. He leaves the office at the end of the day with poorly-disguised relief.
The next morning, there are bags under his eyes.
A few days after that, he drags himself into the temple, seating himself close to the altars with a quiet sigh and settling in to meditate, his eyes closed and hands folded on his lap. The spiritual aura of the holy place offers him a small degree of relief from inner turmoil -- but will it be enough?
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What: Open log for Shen Qingqiu's return after a month-long absence
When: After the beach party
Where: The enforcer's office, the temple, & all over town
Warning(s): Discussion of mental assault, resulting in long-lasting injury.
The morning after his sudden and unexpected appearance at the beach party, Shen Qingqiu marches himself into Janine Kilbride's office in order to bow before her desk and apologize. He tells her plainly that he sustained a psychic injury during the shared dream experienced by CT, John Crichton, and so many others, and as a result of this injury he is unable to account for his whereabouts this past month. However, he swears that he is fit to return to work.
This...may not be entirely true.
"Reduced" is the best word to describe the Shen Qingqiu that rejoins his fellow enforcers that day. No longer does he gracefully flit from room to room like a leaf on the wind; he walks like an ordinary mortal. No longer does he forego food or breaks, nor does he appear to be as fresh at the end of the day as he was when he walked in. He eats like a starving man, and as morning turns to afternoon a pinched look comes over his face. He winces when spoken to, closes doors and cabinets with exaggerated care, and can sometimes be caught rubbing his temples or pinching the bridge of his nose. He leaves the office at the end of the day with poorly-disguised relief.
The next morning, there are bags under his eyes.
A few days after that, he drags himself into the temple, seating himself close to the altars with a quiet sigh and settling in to meditate, his eyes closed and hands folded on his lap. The spiritual aura of the holy place offers him a small degree of relief from inner turmoil -- but will it be enough?
Temple
He whispers a hello to both the Catholic altar Father Mulcahy set up (just in case) and to Serranai, then goes to sit closer to the big tree at the temple's center.
At least, that was the plan.
Instead, he trips on a root, yelps loud enough to totally shatter the quiet -- and probably Shen Qingqiu's meditation attempt -- and crashes to the floor.
"Sorry!" he babbles as he pops back up to his feet. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be loud!"
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"Don't worry about it, just...have a seat wherever," he adds. "Accidents happen." He's not going to chew Radar out for tripping, he's not Shen Jiu!
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"Are, uh -- are you okay, Mr. Shen? You don't look so good."
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In fact he insists on it.
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He bets they are. All the doctors here are great!
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Radar's voice starts to rise before he remembers and quickly checks himself. "Sorry," he says again in a whisper. "Jeez, a whole month, that's awful. I'm real sorry. I didn't know anybody got hurt that bad when it happened."
Mr. Rambo didn't want to talk about it too much -- Radar doesn't blame him one bit for that -- but he and Father Mulcahy both seemed pretty okay. Nothing like what seems to have happened to Mr. Shen.
As his curiosity gets the better of him: "Is Dr. Menelikov like a psychiatrist? We've got one of those that visits our unit sometimes, Dr. Freedman. He's helped a whole lotta guys get their heads back on straight."
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"I don't think Anzu is a psychiatrist per se," he tries to answer. "My understanding is more that he's a town GP, with a side in medical necromancy. Because that's a thing on his world, apparently. It sounds a bit like the magical equivalent of a coroner. More to the point he's my friend and all too happy to sit on me if he thinks I'm pushing myself too hard."
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But he does snicker, very quietly, as Shen Qingqiu describes what Anzu might do. "Yeah, sometimes you gotta have friends who'll do that," he says, with the sympathetic understanding of a guy who's both been the sitter and the sittee at times. "Especially when you're sick. We get guys in post-op all the time who wanna go back to their unit two days after they, I dunno, got a big chunk of their chest sewn up or their whole leg re-set. I swear sometimes the doctors spend half their jobs arguing with 'em to just sit tight for a couple weeks so they don't hurt themselves worse."
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"It feels better to work," he says, a trifle defensively. "To be doing something productive, and making yourself feel useful. I don't like just lying around." Except for all the times when he does. But it's different, when it's your choice.
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"So what brought you to the temple today, anyway?" he asks, trying to change the subject.
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He nods toward her altar, cheeks reddening a bit. Bless this guy and his head-over-heels, love-at-first-sight crush.
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Yeah, he's blushing harder. And starting to grin, a little doofily, without realizing.
"When it's their season they'll be around. Like spring for Serranai. I met her in person when I was helping out with the, uh, the speed dating event back in May."
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"So what was she like? Did she say anything to you?" If this was a public social event, then hopefully the encounter is less private than that mysterious letter!
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...Okay, c'mon, Radar, you can say a little more than that about the love of your life.
"I think she might be the prettiest girl I ever met in my life. She's so fun, and nice, and... you ever meet somebody and all you wanna do is sit next to 'em and talk forever? If that's all I ever got to do with her I'd still be the happiest I ever been. I don't think I ever felt like that about anybody before."
Even Linda Sue! The girl he literally proposed to before he left for Korea!
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At least this time, Radar keeps his slightly squeaky outburst to an appropriate volume.
"Oh, gee, there's no way she'd do that. Ever! She's -- she's -- " He makes a few helpless gestures that stop this shy of flailing. "Literally a goddess! What would she want with me? Even regular girls don't want anything to do with me!"
Look at him, Shen Qingqiu! He's short, he's all soft around the middle, he wears glasses, and he couldn't flirt to save his life or somebody else's.
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Don't be so hard on yourself, Radar! If Shen Qingqiu were into men, he'd think you were pretty adorable!
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He definitely would've remembered that part of sitting through church. (...Wait, does Mary count? But that wasn't like -- was it? Ohhhhh boy he didn't even think about it like that until right this second and now he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to un-think it. He's never gonna survive Christmas once it gets here.)