Arha had been standing in the same spot for a very long time, staring into the the rainsoaked world she had asked he Sensorium to create.  She had done much research before she had begun to pull the world into her mind--many hours in the library looking at all sorts of worlds with rain--and now that the world was actually created, she couldn't make herself go inside.  It wasn't as if Arrakis hadn't had its rainy days while she'd been there; the open puddles on the streets of Arrakeen proved that, but on those days Arha had stayed in her cave and waited it out, burrowed down like Shai-Hulud in the depths of the sand.

And she still wanted to do that, epecially now that she was staring at her fear.

( That did not end well. )

Sharp Tongue is hunched over a patch of paving in the city, painting the ground with a brownish paste using her hand claws. Her eyes are bloodshot and her movements jerky. Symbols, shapes, things that may or may not have meaning. Something that could be a serpent, a man, a raptor, all figures delineated in messy smears. Swirls and slashes and spots and shapes, more indistinct figures.

The shaman works quickly and intensely, occasionally making snuffing noises to herself as she goes. She has to get this down. Now. Before the memory fades.

Next to Sharp Tongue, there is a circle scratched onto the cement, her bag, and several emptied containers not including the one she got what she's painting with from. The remains of some ritual, perhaps?

She'd tried to hide. No, really, there was a space behind her couch just wide enough that she could cram herself into it without making a noticeable shift between the couch and the wall. Sherry knew she'd been lucky, too. She'd even made a mental list while hiding behind her couch-fort:

- Her parents had been (strangely) distracted.

- There was a new 'family' member aboard that had thrown a few things for a loop.

- Doctor Sera and Doctor Grey had similarly been distracted doing doctory things that hadn't required cutting Sherry open.

She appreciated these things greatly, especially the last one. But, they'd found her, and coaxed her out from behind the couch, so here she was again, in med bay. The little girl kept her face still enough, but found that she kept looking for exits. Too many 'what ifs' flashed through her mind at breakneck speed (the worst of which was actually somewhat funny - if black humor such as the monster flying from her abdomen to latch onto someone's face could really be appreciated), and unsettled her even further. It nearly made her miss the monsters of Raccoon City; at least they were upfront about wanting to eat a person, instead of snuggled into their intestines waiting to wake up.

Sherry sat between her parents in the waiting room, and chewed the inside of her cheek nervously. She promised she wasn't going to run off (despite her better judgment); besides Sherry was eight months shy of being thirteen! Sure, it was a long way off, but the fact remained that she wasn't a little kid. Little kids were sedated looong before surgery were the ones that thought of running away. Sherry was nearly a teenager God help them all.

However, that didn't stop her from holding Claire's hand like it was a lifeline. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm so fine, even Kon would be jealous. I'm fine, she thought to herself and held Claire's hand tighter.