A beautiful night in hell Who: Heather, !Open When: Saturday evening, after finishing Sirius' haircut. Where: The Beach What: Was another night going to pass without sleep? Why was it so difficult just to catch some shut eye? Rating: PG-13 just in case. Cause language happens. Status: Incomplete
She thought that maybe a trip to the spa would make her feel better, she'd taken advantage of the full package. Why not? It was free. She'd had her hands done, which needed some serious work because all the damage she'd done to her nails and skin working on the guard tower and almost one hundred caskets, the nails painted a rich blue to hide the bruises. She'd had her feet done, toenails painted the same color. A facial helped cut down the bruising beneath her eyes a lot, and her skin felt softer than it had in a long time. They had also shown her how to apply a little bit of eye make up to bring out the blue, what colors and all that. Not that you could tell in the dark. Something that could be told, if that sort of thing was noted, she had gotten her hair cut. The layers readjusted, so that the ends of the upper layer curled along her chin, the lower layer curling away from the back of her neck. She'd been massaged, waxed and saunaed to the point that she couldn't take anymore pampering. Hoping beyond hope that it would relax her to the point that she wouldn't need anything to force sleep to come.
Yet it had been a week, no more than a week, since she had last slept. While the zombies walked there was good reason to forgo it, she hadn't had time to sleep. There had been to much that needed to be done. Not to mention she wasn't a bad shot with a riffle. But now everything was quiet and she couldn't shut off her mind, she had spent all night last night trying to reach that euphoric state. When everything fades from consciousness, but it never came. She remembered seeing the gray threads of the sunrise peak through her open blinds and giving up.
Tonight felt just like last night. Except now she found herself sitting in the sand. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapping around her bare calves loosely. Her chin resting in the space between them. Her feet bare, the sandals she'd worn sitting beside her. The little painted digits wiggling in the soft earth.
She was dressed in a simple black wide necked tee shirt that fit close, and was soft to the touch. And a pair of cut off blue jean shorts. The sandals she had kicked off were supple black leather, and platformed.
She gazed out across the smooth glass surface of the water. Her eyes catching on the stars as they reflected in the still waters. It was strange that the place that seemed to catch the most blood shed, the sands crimson with blood, was now the most serene. She'd never been a beach girl really, but the closest beach being more than a thousand miles away probably had something to do with that. But this was nice. The breeze was just right, just barely kissing the bare skin of her arms and legs.
She found herself humming the first few bars of "Alone" by Haert. She was never one to resist a tune as it felt absolutely appropriate.