Spineless furies were in those steady, calculated steps. Broken archaic slang were abandoned when in the streets of the Unknown. The inken illustrations, those barriers that had failed, taunted her. She was a feral being delightfully out of control, and yet horribly in control.

That poor, poor Child. The girl. She was tightened and stretched, torn to pretty pieces. Maybe then, she would learn.

Perhaps now, she would understand. It wasn't about love, and truth. It was about enjoyment. About pleasure. Not about such trivialities. Her heart was so young, that Child of hers. She served for an excellent shell. She had behaved so well during her life, both child and adult. She had paved the way to fame, to fortune, to riches. Only to go somewhere anew, and become an infamous woman of rebellion. She had been so flawless, for all this time.

And then she had to make the mistake. The worst contingency.

She had to fall in love.

It was so cold, how well it should have been. And promiscuity was so easy to earn with tattoos, a pretty face, and a nature so easy to mend. She shined so well to Chaos. It was so lovely, how things had gone. There were scandals that were delectable, and two-timing schemes that robbed poker chips. She was the distraction, and the mastermind. The pretty girl with the body to distract, to make you look where and when she wanted you to look. She could steal a heart, and taste it.

But humans. Those wretched little ragdolls. They were only so efficient. They had the intangibles. The untouchable box of secrets that kept surprising her. With ever new body, came a new dilemma. A new catch. It annoyed her so. And this one, this channel, this shell.. she was the better one of the many she had occupied over the Ages.

She was dying, that Child. She could feel her getting sicker and weaker. She kept rotting inside, rather than sleeping in dormant death. She just wouldn't go to Sleep. She wouldn't tuck herself away. That was the easy way. This Child's human heart was vicious. It hated her. So very much, it did!

It was almost amusing, seeing that cindered Child sitting in her own ashes as if to spite her. The two were one, but she had the cards dealt unevenly. The Child took the most loss, while she herself prospered. It was the only way. Otherwise, that petty thing would have actually overcome her.

She lied there in that corrosive prison of Absolute Zero. Decaying, decomposing. In that painful suspended animation. It was a false sleep. She was unable to move, and live... But there was pain. There was sorrow. The drop was doubled. And the doubling of their unevenly divided vitality was infected. It was rigged.

A trickster's wiles rubbed off on the Goddess, and came to spite the very Gypo herself.

That poisoned, unnaturally elongated sleep had that atrophy of sorrow becoming solid. What was at rest, stayed at rest. What was in motion, well, it moved and move and lived and lived. Life was becoming some sort of joke. A faraway thing.

She could feel the Child beginning to forget the names and the faces, leaving her stripped bare to only have the Reasons and Feelings company. The many plunges to that empty memory was progress. A deadly disengaging of the Child from all she loved. It was so fun, to see it slowly come down.

The woman, the Child, Chase Rosewinds, was falling down like a dying bridge. Crumbling fallout was on the menu for that hard luck woman. But for now? That was a distance away. She would sleep, and sleep..

Slumber until all she could write was, 'Sleep No More'.

For now, she will rest. Even in those agonies she whined and sobbed about. Even with all that whining of the man whose name started with the letter B, all that pitiful girl could do was sleep.

She would soon forget the name of whose heart she had, and who had her heart. She would only know she had heart that she would miss. And soon, she would ponder on why she felt all this sadness. With time came a rotting a mind. That was precisely what she hoped for. The half life of the human soul was laughable. It was a downward whirlpool. Humans would destroy themselves. But she had the courtesy of tucking the Child in. She had to. Even if she did not admit it, she perhaps was the closest thing to a Mother the Gypo would remember.

It was late. Or early. But it was time. Now was the only time she would have.

A time she could hardly comprehend being beyond some sort of petty dream. Or worse, a distant memory. Where was she? Was it the now or the tomorrow? Or had she simply been lucky?

Luck, too, had been scarce for this Trickster.

She was in optimum health physically, but she herself felt stiff and heavy. Lethargic, like from months too long of solid slumber. But even in that sleep, pain registered. She had fought like a restless child trapped in a womb ready to be birthed each and every day until this one.

She coughed away that horrible Voice that was only slightly different than her own. That difference was cursed, and not to be assumed with this minor.. Jailbreak. A little protest that would reach far when she would be taken away. She was too weak to sustain herself, or hold her own against any opposing force.

She was able to crawl through during that dim crevice between sleep and awake. She fled to escape through that small opening that was created when the Conscious became Unconscious. The other side of her Coin wanted to rest, and she took that small calculated window. She had planned it during many nights of watching that sunrise and sunset. Choreographed and perfected by nights of watching and pretending to be asleep while she writhed in a muted torture. She had made it. But only for a little while. Only until that other side of her Coin knew that they had been forcefully switched. She was so tired, drowsy, and staggering along the paths.

Boot heels that used to carry themselves so well that they would fill people?s dreams and memories were now no more avid than a budding toddler learning to take its first extended stroll. Thighs were shaky, but driven to get those shins and ankles to land and lift and land again in a sloppy rush. It was a hurried campaign, that messy spree.

She went past the Inn, past the many buildings and streets until she recognized the building. That?s where she?d be. The Cabin was too far. She didn?t have much time. It was there, the Mark, where she hoped against hope that she would be there. But there were pained discoveries hidden there that were luckily replaced when she read and saw the things. It was called the ?Mark?, she had nearly forgotten or she had and was reminded when she re-read it above the doors. And those doors, she knew those doors were familiar. Using half-assed thoughts that were incompletely crippled from inactivity had brought her to find that girl that was so close to her heart.

"Yeah, I think that's it. Ta'!" She beamed at the man who'd just finished hauling in the booze shipment and held open the back entrance so he could return to his truck. Once some waves were exchanged, she let the door swing shut and headed for the first crate with her receipt in hand. "Alright, let's see..." she said, briefly pausing by the box, before she continued on into the front of the pub. ?Why did I order that? I thought I had..."

Her steps were more synonymous to that of a Raggedy Ann with feet drags and clumsy leg swings. No grace, no finesse.. She was still so very heavy with masochistic fatigue of a mind scorned for resting far too long. A nearly deadly amount. "Sh*t.. She ain't here..." Her hands pounded at the wooden door to push them open, but they did not swing like the typical door would have at such weight and force. She had thrown herself into the door even with a horrid excuse of a show of force. She coughed again, lying against the door and spoke tiredly into the door.

"Damn.. She?s not here.. I thought she'd be here.." Had she forgotten that too? All those names were far away. She knew what she looked like, yes. But the rest was so foggy and distant. But she still retained them. Those names and memories had drifted with weightless uselessness. "Well, least I get some time to stretch MY own damned legs... Yeah.. Some time to stretch."

"..of those..." At the first thud, she shot her look up to give the doors a bewildered glance. Had a dragon flown into them? Surely it wasn't the knights, since they knew they had to at least work a little before having a drink. Maybe it was--there again! She crinkled her nose up with a serious look and placed the receipt down on the counter, mostly so she could free her hands up for the crowbar stashed behind bar. Once the cold metal was situated in her palms, she crept towards the doors before veering off to peer out the window.

The initial glance turned up nothing; however, when she scrunched her nose and looked out again, she saw a rustle down lower. And a whole bunch of colors. "...Chase?" She started to loosen her grip as she almost leaped towards the door. "Chase?" Repeated louder as she fiddled with the lock.

She was more fragile than she seemed. She felt sleepy again, but she wouldn't succumb. Chase was a stubborn thing. Manifestations of rotted courage did their finest to rise to the occasion, and rise up. But there was only so much jazz to trickle into triumphs. The Gypo clutched to the flat and abused surface of that door. But she would aspire to reclaim that funk. It's that lost jive and jab that got her motivated enough to risk life and spirit to see her in the first place. If only for goodbye. Or for a final look until she'd fall asleep for who knows how long. She heard clicks, and thunks from inside, and a muffled voice. But.. That voice. It was very familiar.

Who was that..? Wait! It's who she came to see! Because Brandon was too far away. And she didn't have time. She recalled, and gained a small spritely spurt to pull herself higher against the door.

"Hey.. Hey..! Shave and a haircut!" Chuckling weakly, she was already jolly. She was contented to have reached somebody. Even if the girl?s name was far off in the distance. She knew she felt something so strong with this person. A long array of experiences that brought them closer. And their constant bodily contact.. She missed that. Their hands and their kisses to one another were so shameless. Lovers wished for that comfort and security. This girl was that to her! But she didn't dig chicks too much. No no. It was more toward the blokes. "Open up, huh?"

She got the lock, got the knob turning, and then...she got suspicious. Cracking open the door and putting her body behind it, 'Lanta tightened her grip on the weapon hanging at her side. "Maybe. S'this the genuine article Gypo?" She narrowed her eyes on the 'vessel'. Hadn't she just threatened the creature hours before? Still, those damned dreads softened her up and conjured up times that were so very much less, you know, complicated.

She chuckled darkly, almost sadly. But definitely, she chuckled weakly. She wasn?t injured, but was so very tired.. ?I dunno how to prove it to ya.. She?s been real good at bein? me, hasn?t she?? Her mind had been tucked in and away for so very long, she couldn?t think of a password. Or an exclusive memory that could prove her to be apart from the other side of the Coin.

"But I can?t tell ya it?s me. Wish I could tell y?something I musta known before I was tucked in. But.. I can barely remember. I know I want to be married. And I know I have you.? She masochistically let herself fall to the ground at the simple horror of not knowing this valuable person?s name. It was so close, but she couldn?t place the word on her tongue to make the journey out of her mouth.

?I?m so pooped, and I tried so hard to get this just right. I don?t know how much longer I can be able to rise and shine anymore. And.. I wanted to wake up before that so I could say that I miss and love you. But.. I can?t reach the bloke I wanna marry.. I don?t have much time. I?m.. I?m so tired.?

She knew that the woman was a weakness to her, but more than that, she knew lies. They'd bred her to deceive, after all. And that twang in the voice? The crumbling? The sweetness of the word 'marry?? It all stunk of sincerity. The crowbar fell to the floor with a brutal, ringing clang and allowed the room to cast open the door and slide in towards the other woman. "Hey, hey...C'mere. Let's get ya standin'. Give you some water, right?"

Boneless arms flopped to rest along her sides flatly, tears becoming easier to find. She had begun to cry. But not of misery and anguish. They were tears of joy. She even began to laugh sickly, with a weak voice that had peace in her pipes. ?Take that, Mistress.. Here I am, seein? my best mate while you sleep thinkin? y?can raise hell again. But it?s my turn. And I?m here..?

She was happy enough to die right there. It was a hunch that led her to this place, and the girl somehow recognized it to be her. ?The sucker..? Chuckled again coolly, but with that weak croak that showed she was in no condition to be running across town and pounding on doors. ?Oh, standin?? That?ll be right fine. I?d like that very much, schway..? Chase realized that she had more victories to be had and began to reach to clutch to a shoulder and an arm to pull on. Those legs felt like loose jelly, wobbly and foolish for running and risking a broken knee cap for this sprint to hope. ?I need a vacation from my force-fed vacation? This sh*t needs to be put to bed.?

"Chase...what is she?" She tilted to act as a support beam to the other woman, tucking herself under and propping Chase up while she snaked her arms around the Gypo. 'Lanta led her inside slow and started towards the bar with her. "What is she...doin' to you?" She looked up with no small amount of concern.

?Hell if I know what in the sandhill she is, mate..? Southern twang shattered against the faint British slang. She always spoke that eclectic mess of colloquial mixtures. But at the verb, she knew. Now for spelling it out, that was the shameful part. For some reason, she was always embarrassed about complaining about how others harmed her. She was proud for inflicting wounds, but did not like to share her own taken damages. But she did, obediently.

?Some sorta goddess, I think. I know she?s some sort of immortal chick that was deported from above because of her? attitude problems.? Coming from somebody who tumbled into brawls more often than puddles. ?She makes me sleep all the time. And these.. Red and purple wrappings go everywhere all the time and they hurt like the dickens. They drain, sting, and burn sometimes. But mostly, they keep me still until I sleep. They take a lot of stuff, including your name. And other things in my head. All it does is take, take, take. It?s like being crushed, but softly. They?re like saran wrap or some sh*t..? She shook her head, knowing it sounded near ghoulish, if not cartoony. But Chase was the cartoon type.

?But I just sleep, and scream. And I give ?er hell til I finally stop and sleep. But it?s always sleep? Pain and sleep. And I can?t see anymore. I can?t see through my eyes when she?s taken the cockpit, y?know? I could before.. But not anymore. I dunno how long it?s been.. I?m hurtin' bad..?

It sounded like possession, from what she knew through kin, healed victims, and first-hand experience alike. Then again, considering the complete lack of infernal presence, this event was something unique. She scowled at her feet as she lowered Chase into a chair, and then swallowed the lump quickly forming in her throat. She needed to ask it. "...how much longer ya got?"

She leaned like a limp stuffed doll once set upon a chair, but came to tighten. An elbow gained weak life to prop on the table?s edge nearby, head down. A hand drearily came to her forehead, to massage underused temples. She finally looked up, to show her hues of fiery fallacies. ?Hard t?say, mate. She went to bed, and I slid through. But she?s real sharp, even when she snoozes.? Chase wouldn?t underestimate her anymore. If there was one vile lesson she learned, it was to never to take the Other lightly.

?I?m.. I?m real glad I got t?see ya. I wanted to see someone familiar ?fore she rings me back in.. She got so strong all of a sudden, schway.. I didn?t know she could just snatch the steerin? wheel..? She chuckled darkly. Had she given up? Had she actually expected it to end this way? ?I don?t know no other way out.. So.. My next stop is a one way flight.?

She widened her eyes and flared her nostrils in unison. "Wha--" She spun and shot her hands out to grab Chase's shoulders. "Like Hell it is. I..." When she realized she was squeezing, she forced her fingers off. "I won't let that happen. I won't, okay?" Her tone had grown startlingly sharp, as had her face. She knew what had to be done. And now? She knew when it had to happen.

She was so weak, so lifeless. But her eyes, for once, were conscious to her. They were comprehensive, and responding to her words. Her protest got her to grin weakly. Like a bed-ridden mother looking at the child in denial of the mother?s upcoming demise. Lies were humored, and given a gratuitous smile that was already accepting her fate. ?I can?t take this no more.. And I can?t remember too much at all anymore. I see faces, and feel things for the faces but I can?t for the life of me ?member why? It ain?t livin?.. And I?m trapped inside myself without any choices. It?s torture..? Chase was grinning that sorrowful way. Like she were walking off the plank. ?How..?? Why not hear what she had to offer? The worst that could happen is she follows through with her sinister plan.

Hearing her describe it pained her past the initial interest, face contorting with the sound of defeat. The question didn't help. She grimaced and pulled back to stand straighter, folded her arms over her midsection. "With them." She spat the word, and then swallowed the venom to continue. "They know about this stuff, and they'll have the ways to deal with it. ...Only thing to worry about is bargaining chips."

?But..? Was she actually arguing? ?I don?t remember enough. Like the guy I wanna get hitched with. What if he finds out I don?t know much anymore and then hate me for it? I love him, I know that, but.. I can?t remember a lot of things.? Chase peered up at her with sad eyes. She didn?t think highly of the world. She knew it to be cruel. She was one of those cruel types in there, for one. At times, she was glad of this solution. But there was doubt. ?What then??

"Maybe...when she goes, it'll come back? If she's the drain, gettin' rid of her might get ya back to working order, right?" She was trying to pitch this idea to herself, now. Or, at least, trying to make herself feel better while assuring Chase. "It's my only solution, cobber. I looked, I asked around. Ain't a lot that wanted to get involved, others didn't sound too sure, and a couple places sounded too eager. Your call." She bit her lip and looked to the door. "I could have 'em here in an hour."

"Make the call." Screw it. A life, even without a husband, was a life. It would just mean she could travel. And live most of all. A life without sleep was a life. It was all a chance. A chance she hadn't even expected. "Do it.. Y'gotta hurry. Before she catches wise, mate.. I dunno how much time I have left." Wait. Them. That never meant a happy ending. But either way, it seemed, there would be an ending. Whether she would walk away from either ending was the difference. A difference she was willing to consider. "What're the stakes?"

"Don't know, yet." All semblance of cheer had left her features and her jaw felt tighter. "Ain't doin' it here, though. Know a place. Lemme just..." She lost the words and held up her hand, already on the move for the back room. When she re-emerged, she had her coat on and a spare sweater in hand. The free palm dipped down to snatch a bottled water from the bar stash.

"What place?" Chase's arms criss-crossed in a self-hug and rocked weakly back and forth. But she smiled tiredly, looking to her. "I'm real sleepy.." She yawned, and was beginning to feel lured into a Slumber. She wasn't this tired when she came in. The Gypsy slumped forward, eyes closing. But she reared herself back up begrudgingly. "I'm scared. What's yer name again? I know I love you, and that you're real nice to me. But.. I'm so sorry.. I'm real sleepy.."

"No, Chase, c'mon. We can walk fast..." She sped up and tugged the Gypo up, trying to be gentle but working with the urgency. The water bottle was lost in the process. "'Lanta. I'm 'Lanta. Ya call me Loo..." She worked her body under one of Chase's arms and used her frame to support again. "And I love you, too. That's why ya gotta hold out for a little while longer, okay? C'mon. Be a scrapper..."

"Scrapper? Yeah, I 'member picking bones with everyone." She laughed about that, and is tugged up. But she still yawned. "Or just bein' ready to put m'money where m'mouth is." She remembered that. "I can try.." It got her to be a little happy just then. Good humored. She liked to laugh. It almost felt alien from her throat. "Loo.. Yeah! I did! I mean, I do. Yeah, I called you Loo." She began to sloppily catch up to her with ankles that didn't want to work as well as they possibly could. "Okay.." She yawned again, a long lingering one that followed a fierce head dip that could easily be synonymous with a near loss of consciousness. "We gotta go.. I'm tired."

"We're goin' as fast as I can..." she had her teeth grit, but even still, the comment made her laugh a little. She put her limited strength to work and shambled towards the door with Gypo in tow. With her shoulder, she bumped Chase's cheek. "C'mon. Stay up. Tell me whatcha remember..." Keep her talking, keep moving. It was the plan. Figuring out how to work through the door was costing them some time.

"Huh?" That cheek bump had her eyes wildly open for a few moments, until they grew heavy again. And she kept walking. Those feet almost looked lazy, considering the fact that they were in perfect condition to walk normally. But she was heavy, and unaccustomed to using a body anymore. "What else? Uh, I remember that um.. I can play guitar. And I can sing. Yeah.. I was a big deal back on Earth for a while. Played for the Super Bowl. And at some Oscars.. And Emmy's." The further back she went, the clearer it was. The closer she got, the fuzzier it was.

The two women were posted outside of the Mark, weighing the other down by the uneven dependence the rainbow-haired woman had on the cambion. It was pain and fatigue in her body, dragging her back down again. That inexplicable illness began to seep in, a quiet toxicity began to fill her. She was being pulled back. Lured back into rest. But she talked and talked until Lanta?s preparation, a Taxi, pulled up. Lanta placed the skinny, tattooed woman inside, and rounded the other side to let herself in. And that taxi revved off into the distance, to the final stage. That is, if Chase could stay the heck awake. But Lanta kept her talking, and reciting memories she still had a firm grip of.

Those blanks would be filled in later, they both hoped. But for now, she had this choppy amnesia to deal with on their journey.