It's truly a strange thing, what the human mind can adapt to. The situations that, while wholly bizarre and unnatural can become a rather simple routine. A routine that, while stressful, is carried out like clockwork by those caught in it, day after day, week after week.<br/><br/>Sasha often pondered on the meaning of that. Perhaps there was something about human nature that made mankind so willing to overlook and simply adjust to the strange. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism, that in times of great stress or upheaval, mankind can simply roll up their sleeves and carry on. Perhaps, even, it was a kind of magic.<br/><br/>Regardless, everyone had their routines, and though Sasha's was strange, she still stuck to hers rather religiously. Every morning she'd wake up bright and early and spend a hedonistically long time under the hot water of her shower, enjoying the massaging jets. After that, she'd dry off and check her blog.<br/><br/>Her blog wasn't really her idea, at first. It wasn't even something she herself created. Rather, it spawned as a group of thankful and hopeful people sought a way to thank her alter ego for her work. Soon after, the board became flooded with requests. People desperate for some kind of relief from their physical injuries, who'd given up on so much they were willing to trust in 'magic'. Most didn't believe, but that hope was something refreshing, at least. Just seeing the requests, a reminder of the people still suffering, gave Sasha direction in her day. The 'thank you's gave her fuel to face the day.<br/><br/>The walk to the school campus from her small apartment wasn't a long one, and she always made certain to stop for a quick breakfast of baked goods and tea along the way. Nona's Bakery was more than just a place to eat to Sasha. The warm, homey atmosphere was always welcome and the employees there were particularly kind to her, especially during her rougher days.<br/><br/>The day was a time for school. Time not spent in class was often spent studying among her peers and friends. As a pre-med student, she often found herself pressed for daytime to keep up with her work, but she refused to compromise her night-life for the sake of better grades. Unlike many of her peers, that wasn't due to a love of partying.<br/><br/>Her own nightlife depended on the day of the week. Two or three nights she'd pick up night shifts at Nona's, doing the prep-work for the morning crew, making dough and batter and the like. It was easy work, and a talented person could finish in a few hours, while still being paid for eight hours of work. That, and the laid back attitude made it more of a relaxing experience than actual work, as the employees often danced the night away, laughing and singing as they worked.<br/><br/>Other nights, when she had the wisps, she'd travel to one of the local hospitals. Usually the Virginia Mason Hospital, but on rare occasions she'd travel up to two hours away. These were times where the lists grew heavy with names. People who could only count on Magic in their most dire times.<br/><br/>It was rough work, standing before crowds of onlookers. She often preferred naysayers to those who mobbed her on sight. The begging, the pleading, the desperation for relief from pain, relief she couldn't always give, was the worst. But seeing the smiling faces of those she could help. Feeling the hope that radiated off of the witnesses, and knowing they'd spread the message to others, made it all worth while.<br/><br/>Of course, not every night was a busy night. Some nights she stayed in, watching netflix with a tub of ice cream. Some nights she relented as Emily tried to drag her out socializing, and sat in bars or clubs nursing a rye and ginger. Some nights she was so overwhelmingly drained she merely returned home and fell asleep before her bed hit the pillow. But all of these fell into her very, very strange routine.