"As if I were made of glass, or something," she muttered under her breath as she arrived at a pow-wow already in progress.  In a louder and stronger voice, read: intended to be heard, she coninued.  "Injury?  No one laid a hand on me.  It was....something else."<span style="font-style: italic">But what was it?  Where did I go?  Does it have any connection with this?</span>And then, of course, there were other things.  Pieces of herself that had come together to form otherwise whole memories, and answers to some of what she had already been wondering about.<br/><br/>She eyed Walter askance for a moment, before reluctantly taking his hand.  "Startled?  No.  I don't scare easily, I am not made of glass..."<span style="font-style: italic">...I think...</span>"...and I am still as lost as I was before.  Excepting a few things here and there that seemingly were recalled to me when I fainted like some schoolgirl that saw blood."  She finished that with a grimace, and then gave Walter a hard look, her dark eyes gleaming and changing color oddly in the light, shifting from dark to hazel to blue and back again, wildly, at random.  "Start over?  Sure, why not.  We can start over by giving me an explanation as to what in the hell is happening.  My girlfriend decked me in the face, and when I woke up I was here."<br/><br/>She walked to Katara, all too aware of the strange movements of her body.  Entirely not masculine, but then she was a woman, not a man, now.  She eyed the bandaged arm and raised a quizzical eyebrow.  "Nice fashion statement there, lady.  I believe I can do a little better than the local witch doctor did, and even with my sour as hell attitude I am sure that I have a far better bedside manner than those bastards down there do."  Taking a deep breath, she swallowed hard.  She could recall the way of this, now, even though she had no idea<span style="font-style: italic">what</span>it was.  All she knew is that physical contact would make it work better and more completely.  Thus, she laid a hand on Katara's shoulder.  "By the way, this is going to hurt like a son of a bitch."<span style="font-style: italic">I think.  I seem to recall...</span><br/><br/>It was like lighting her flesh on fire, but it was not pain.  It was heat, and it suffused her through and through.  A pleasant heat, very much like...she shook her head.<span style="font-style: italic">None of that, now.</span>Not really understanding what she was doing, she shaped that power.  And crafted it into a kind of pattern that overlay the other woman entirely.  It would force flesh to knit and bone as well, but it would hurt as badly as it did when broken in the first place...all at once.<br/><br/>"Please tell me that all of this has nothing to do with some god damned black tower standing in a sea of black sand..."