(no subject)
Rena's eyes fluttered open and she turned her head to search for the dark head on the pillow next to her. Of course it wasn't there. The bed on that side was rumpled, proof that her lover had been there, but of course that wasn't the face she searched for in her half waking state. She sat up slowly and stretched her arms above her head. Get your feet on the floor, move, breath...people are counting on you.
She slipped out of the bed silently and headed for the bathroom and the handful of aspirin that awaited her there. At least this headache was just stress and lack of sleep, not from a hangover or a beating she'd taken. She closed the medicine cabinet door and peered at her cheek in the mirror. The bruise had faded to nothing now, thank god. She was sick of answering questions about it.
Breakfast, the clock said 5pm, but it was still breakfast for her. She was a night owl, not that you could tell night from day in this place. Midnight's red glow was not that much different from the red glow of noon. Still, everything happened at night and the silence of the streets in the morning made her feel melancholy. Cold cereal and ice cold milk. Eat it fast before the milk got warm and the chocolaty flakes got mushy, leave the remnants for Masha's cat.
She dressed as she always did, with care, the clothing matching her mood. Skirts and tops littered the floor, shoes scattered among them. She searched until she found just the right pair to finish off the outfit. Dressing complete, she just sat on the end of the bed, staring off at nothing as she thought over the cowboy's offer. Was she strong enough for this? It's what she needed to be...stronger...faster...meaner. but then there were Masha and the Priest to consider. It was a different kind of strength, one she was certain she didn't possess.
Plans swirled through her head. The blonde woman, the boy, the gentle, dark haired, but lethal beauty. It was all a game of chess. She was out of her league and she knew it, but she had to play through. The goal, no longer to win, but to end the game and bring home her captured queen. Capture the King. Checkmate. Could she do it?
She rose slowly and strapped on the gun that never left her side now. There were other games to be played while the pawns were being knocked off one by one. She'd distract herself with the Knight and the Rook. The Bishop, she'd leave be. She finally left the apartment, looking for a sister, or trouble...whichever found her first.
She slipped out of the bed silently and headed for the bathroom and the handful of aspirin that awaited her there. At least this headache was just stress and lack of sleep, not from a hangover or a beating she'd taken. She closed the medicine cabinet door and peered at her cheek in the mirror. The bruise had faded to nothing now, thank god. She was sick of answering questions about it.
Breakfast, the clock said 5pm, but it was still breakfast for her. She was a night owl, not that you could tell night from day in this place. Midnight's red glow was not that much different from the red glow of noon. Still, everything happened at night and the silence of the streets in the morning made her feel melancholy. Cold cereal and ice cold milk. Eat it fast before the milk got warm and the chocolaty flakes got mushy, leave the remnants for Masha's cat.
She dressed as she always did, with care, the clothing matching her mood. Skirts and tops littered the floor, shoes scattered among them. She searched until she found just the right pair to finish off the outfit. Dressing complete, she just sat on the end of the bed, staring off at nothing as she thought over the cowboy's offer. Was she strong enough for this? It's what she needed to be...stronger...faster...meaner. but then there were Masha and the Priest to consider. It was a different kind of strength, one she was certain she didn't possess.
Plans swirled through her head. The blonde woman, the boy, the gentle, dark haired, but lethal beauty. It was all a game of chess. She was out of her league and she knew it, but she had to play through. The goal, no longer to win, but to end the game and bring home her captured queen. Capture the King. Checkmate. Could she do it?
She rose slowly and strapped on the gun that never left her side now. There were other games to be played while the pawns were being knocked off one by one. She'd distract herself with the Knight and the Rook. The Bishop, she'd leave be. She finally left the apartment, looking for a sister, or trouble...whichever found her first.