The glass is half empty, so pass the next bottle.
She practically launched herself into room twenty-two of the Red Dragon Inn. With a quick spin on bare feet the door was slammed behind her, a solid click locking it into place. Her head craned backwards, blue eyes scanning the few and far between furnishings of her latest abode. She spotted the wooden chair in the corner that had her guitar case resting across it. Quickly working with little flair the case was on the floor and she was dragging the chair back, positioning it beneath the door handle. Fists settled themselves on thin hips while she stared at her handy work. Would that really keep out anyone who was dead set on coming in? Any other time she would have said yes, but she was quickly learning in leaps and bounds that this place was anything but the norm. It would have to do for now and it gave her just enough peace of mind. Her movements were a little more relaxed. Slower. What was the point in rushing around? She hadn't been here long enough to acquire a to do list. It was all just killing time. That was the story of her life for the last, Jesus, how long had it been? It wasn't important enough right now to do the math.
The cigarette perched behind her ear was pulled free and placed between her lips. Hands slid over her jeans before fingers dipped into her back pocket fishing out a simple red plastic lighter. She never went far without one yet rarely used it, bumming cigarettes and all that went with them had become an art in her eyes. Something to say grace on and reflect over with strangers, like the homeless that swarm soup kitchens. It also didn't hurt that it saved her the hassle of having to go to the store to feed her habit. The lighter was extended towards a short fat cream colored candle resting in a pillow of hardened wax on her bedside table. The little flame kissed it to life then the action was repeated on her cigarette. She tossed the lighter onto the table and sat herself down on the bed, long legs folding over onto themselves. Two tendrils of gray smoke were slowly exhaled through her nostrils and curled lazily towards the ceiling while her brows furrowed in thought.
Demons, vampires, ghouls. "Ya know all those things they tell ya are just fiction where we come from? It's all real." She had an inkling. People eluded to it here and there. Jochin was simply the first one to be straight forward with her. To come right out and confirm it all. That the boogiemen she was assured couldn't be lurking in the shadows as a child were real. What a blow to the gut. Was this the normal reaction? Was there a normal way for someone to react to something like this? Those red leather boots had carried her a long way from her home sweet home, or what she had felt was the closest thing to a home she would ever get, but she had never been faced with anything like this before. She hated that she felt so uneasy now while others seemed to not even notice. To Jochin it was nothing more than a job. Yet here she was locked away with fear bubbling in her stomach. What did it say about her? Was she a coward? The moment the word crossed her mind she grit her teeth and knew she had a choice to make. Was she going to head out? A parting "it's been real" for the hand full of people who had shown her a bit of kindness in the past few weeks? Or would she suck it up and stay?
Wilted ashes were flicked into the make-shift tinfoil ashtray on the table. Full of heavy thoughts and smoke, she leaned over the side of her bed grabbing an olive drab army bag that was hauled from its place on the floor and settled in front of her. Once the cigarette was back in place between tight lips the pack was opened and she began her search. It didn't take long for a quiet yet victorious "Aha" to escape her while she withdrew a smooth black handle with small silver rivets holding it together. The pad of her thumb ran along the handle, shifting it here and there until it was weighted in her hand just right. An added bit of pressure caused the spring loaded blade to unfold itself with a click. Blue eyes watched the reflected flicker of dying candlelight catch in silver as her body shifted, back pressed against the wall. With a swift swing befitting the batsh*t ballerina, the thick silence that had surrounded her was broken as the switchblade cut through the air and became embedded in the wood of the side table. Staying in place even as she removed her hand.
With that simple act, room twenty-two was claimed in the name of Zoe Day. She would not run. That was not the legacy she wanted to leave behind. Zoe knew better than most that not all beasts had claws and fangs. She had already allowed too many monsters in her life to cause her to turn tail. Her mind was made up, her feet set in place.
This was her home, at least for now, and no one was going to take that away from her.
She practically launched herself into room twenty-two of the Red Dragon Inn. With a quick spin on bare feet the door was slammed behind her, a solid click locking it into place. Her head craned backwards, blue eyes scanning the few and far between furnishings of her latest abode. She spotted the wooden chair in the corner that had her guitar case resting across it. Quickly working with little flair the case was on the floor and she was dragging the chair back, positioning it beneath the door handle. Fists settled themselves on thin hips while she stared at her handy work. Would that really keep out anyone who was dead set on coming in? Any other time she would have said yes, but she was quickly learning in leaps and bounds that this place was anything but the norm. It would have to do for now and it gave her just enough peace of mind. Her movements were a little more relaxed. Slower. What was the point in rushing around? She hadn't been here long enough to acquire a to do list. It was all just killing time. That was the story of her life for the last, Jesus, how long had it been? It wasn't important enough right now to do the math.
The cigarette perched behind her ear was pulled free and placed between her lips. Hands slid over her jeans before fingers dipped into her back pocket fishing out a simple red plastic lighter. She never went far without one yet rarely used it, bumming cigarettes and all that went with them had become an art in her eyes. Something to say grace on and reflect over with strangers, like the homeless that swarm soup kitchens. It also didn't hurt that it saved her the hassle of having to go to the store to feed her habit. The lighter was extended towards a short fat cream colored candle resting in a pillow of hardened wax on her bedside table. The little flame kissed it to life then the action was repeated on her cigarette. She tossed the lighter onto the table and sat herself down on the bed, long legs folding over onto themselves. Two tendrils of gray smoke were slowly exhaled through her nostrils and curled lazily towards the ceiling while her brows furrowed in thought.
Demons, vampires, ghouls. "Ya know all those things they tell ya are just fiction where we come from? It's all real." She had an inkling. People eluded to it here and there. Jochin was simply the first one to be straight forward with her. To come right out and confirm it all. That the boogiemen she was assured couldn't be lurking in the shadows as a child were real. What a blow to the gut. Was this the normal reaction? Was there a normal way for someone to react to something like this? Those red leather boots had carried her a long way from her home sweet home, or what she had felt was the closest thing to a home she would ever get, but she had never been faced with anything like this before. She hated that she felt so uneasy now while others seemed to not even notice. To Jochin it was nothing more than a job. Yet here she was locked away with fear bubbling in her stomach. What did it say about her? Was she a coward? The moment the word crossed her mind she grit her teeth and knew she had a choice to make. Was she going to head out? A parting "it's been real" for the hand full of people who had shown her a bit of kindness in the past few weeks? Or would she suck it up and stay?
Wilted ashes were flicked into the make-shift tinfoil ashtray on the table. Full of heavy thoughts and smoke, she leaned over the side of her bed grabbing an olive drab army bag that was hauled from its place on the floor and settled in front of her. Once the cigarette was back in place between tight lips the pack was opened and she began her search. It didn't take long for a quiet yet victorious "Aha" to escape her while she withdrew a smooth black handle with small silver rivets holding it together. The pad of her thumb ran along the handle, shifting it here and there until it was weighted in her hand just right. An added bit of pressure caused the spring loaded blade to unfold itself with a click. Blue eyes watched the reflected flicker of dying candlelight catch in silver as her body shifted, back pressed against the wall. With a swift swing befitting the batsh*t ballerina, the thick silence that had surrounded her was broken as the switchblade cut through the air and became embedded in the wood of the side table. Staying in place even as she removed her hand.
With that simple act, room twenty-two was claimed in the name of Zoe Day. She would not run. That was not the legacy she wanted to leave behind. Zoe knew better than most that not all beasts had claws and fangs. She had already allowed too many monsters in her life to cause her to turn tail. Her mind was made up, her feet set in place.
This was her home, at least for now, and no one was going to take that away from her.