I gave up 'cause I couldn't feel And I gave in 'cause it sounded like a steal Spending time on my back now Thinking 'bout the facts now How 'bout this and how about that... Well here we go I like to think I'm on top of things But this life will bring what it will bring, you know I like to think I'm on top of things But this life will bring what it will bring

Folded comfortably on the chair, one leg hugged to her chest and the other dangling haphazardly over an arm, she gazed out at the city of Rhy'din through a curtain of sunshine curls. Both arms draped around her bare leg, her chin resting on her knee thoughtfully. It was dark out, and the mist hung thick in the air, almost suffocating. The streetlamps cast an eerie glow on the city, but up on the balcony, swayed by the cool, salty, ocean breeze, Duci felt at home for the first time since leaving the cockpit.

And my less than large brain is contorting the synapses Sent from the ends of my dangling nerves

Give me just one time Two times You know it's where I'm at I'm waving as I go

Some days it felt like the city itself was looming above her, preparing to engulf her into its darkest depths forevermore. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to connect, to relate to those she recalled as being friends. She often lingered on the outskirts of the fray, watching, feeling and longing to be a part of something bigger. Regardless, she plastered on that award-winning Cheshire smile and braved the frontlines with as much gusto as she could muster. Duci still felt disattached, but she was perfect at playing pretend. Maybe it was simply knowing she wasn't exactly who she thought she was, or perhaps it was the fact being on the ground made her feel claustrophobic. Out there, in space, she was free. Free to think; free to be; unseen and carefree. But she could never return to the cockpit. She wasn't a pilot anymore.

I got up, I never thought I'd get there My mid doesn't mind 'cause my mind won't dare Wake up, shake up and wind up on my back How 'bout this and how about that I wanna wipe the plastic smile off my face I wanna win without entering the race I want to say what I mean and mean what I say I just need something to mean anything

Some say they saw her fighter jet implode, others say it merely careened into the noxious gases of a planet about to explode and disappeared. Either way, no one trusted her when she returned 10 months later with a jet that looked like new. That distrust eroded her mental fiber, drawing her away from others as she began to recluse into herself. Umber gaze appeared vacant, empty of any emotion for the brief moment before lids shut tightly over them.

Give me just one time Two times You know it's just where I'm at I'm waving as I go You gotta give me just one time Two times YOu know it's just here I'm at I'm waving as I go I just wanna get through I don't know how I'm gonna do it I wanna get through

"Gods, grant me peace," she murmured, ignoring the little voice in the back of her head that kept acidly spewing "the time grows near."

One Time by Stroke 9

Duci had fun last night, bellydancing, she did. Truthfully. Maybe it had been the fae wine, or perhaps letting herself go really did suck that much of life out of her.

Friday morning, she didn't even get out of bed. Her phone went off all day, and she blissfully ignored it from the depths of silk where she cocooned. Mez whined, aching for attention. The bear pawed at Duci, and she merely patted the bed beside her. Mez lumbered up the side and joined her in bed, curling and still taking up a majority of the space. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, and the blonde wrapped the arm not holding the bottle of booze around Mez and squeezed as though she feared the bear would up and disappear in the blink of an eye.

Disappear. There's a thought.

Dusk rolled near, casting long, dark shadows against the purple walls. "Oh, I suppose I should get up, huh?" Duci asked Mez, who merely grunted and snored in reply.

A heavenward tilt of umber before she managed to crawl out of her cocoon and thump like a lifeless ragdoll to the floor. The blonde rolled onto her back, the shag carpet cool against bare limbs. Another moment passed before she forced herself up, fumbling with illused muscles. Okay, upright. She tottered then stumbled for the bathroom, fingers holding onto the wall for support. Dragging herself to the shower, she turned it on, flapping at the handle. Leaning heavily against the glass, she pressed her cheek up against the cool surface and closed her eyes again.

It wasn't until she felt the scalding steam of the shower that she finally moved. "Oh," Duci mumbled dumbly, slipping under the showerhead. The water burned sun-kissed flesh, making her feel less numb. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against the marble as the hot water rolled down her back. Duci hoped her bad mood would roll away with it, washing down the draind. It didn't, and she pushed back from the wall and into a standing position. Instead, she forced dextrous digits to rake through her tangled spools of sunshine with shampoo and conditioner, massaging the scalp luxuriously. It was a tedious process, or perhaps it was just an indication of how lethargic she felt.

Irritably, she grabbed for the loofah and doused it with a thick, scented oil-based body wash. Duci scrubbed forcefully at her skin, trying to scrub away her ill-thoughts and bad memories. It never worked. She ended up shutting the water off dejectedly, and removing herself from the shower looking more akin to a lobster than a pretty girl. Umber glanced up, and she scowled at the mirror, snatching a towel and wrapping up in it.

Bellying up to the counter, she plugged in the blowdryer. Turning it on, she took a step back and bent over, going to town on her hair. It wasn't before too long that she stood back up, tossing her head back and sending her Medusa curls every which way, like a model. That didn't bring a smile to her face, either, and she sighed in disgust, tossing the blow dryer onto the counter carelessly. Stalking off from the bathroom, hair now bouncing, she retreated to her closet. The one place that usually left her feeling alive.

Nothing turned her on. She had already pre-selected her outfits for the weekend, and she picked up the red, pink, and orange gown. Pressing it up against her body she wiggled and swished in front of the mirror. A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth, and she gently set the dress down. Unwrapping the towel, she stepped into a pair of knickers then slid into the dress. She returned to the mirror, turning every which way to assess the way the dress hugged her curves.

She still looked dissatisfied as she turned, grabbing the towel and tossing it in the hamper, and shuffled for her Hall of Heels. Standing there defiantly, hands on her hips, she stared at her shoe collection disdainfully. Carefully, she selected a pair of strappy yellow heels and slipped into them. Moving for the vanity, she applied a minimal amount of make-up and jewelry.

Emerging finally from the closet, fully dressed, she instead flopped down onto her bed beside Mez with a fresh bottle of vodka and stared up at the ceiling, ignoring the acidic little voice in the back of her mind. She didn't want to know what was expected of her, she didn't care to make it happen. All Duci wanted to do was remain blissfully numb to the world around her. The story of her weekend. The following two days followed in a similar manner, where she would show so much progress just to fall back into the same mood.

Duci didn't eat, didn't sleep, just sat and counted all the webs from spiders, catching things and eating their insides, like indecision to face the world.

Play on I Miss You lyrics by Blink-182's