[center][h2][u][color=indianred]Racheli[/color][/u][/h2]

...Hours Ago….
Starting Location: Manchester in Someset 
Ending Location: Robert D. Sherman Airport in Little Ulster in  Lost Haven .[/center]

Racheli looked up briefly  to the darkening and grey skies. Its clouds swirled around angrily above the small gathering crowd, thundering slightly in loud warning. Her green eyes stared intensely, drawn to it because  she realized her own mood reflected the heavens above a little too well. She recognized the sorrow,  betrayed, but mostly she could relate to the anger pitted against the world caught in its path. The notion the skies seemed almost as bitter about her loss as she was, made Rach's lips twist into a bitter smirk. Instinctively her hands pushed deeper into her [url=http://24.media.tumblr.com/bf02eba76bb5720157d5bd66cb1cec26/tumblr_mf79ip2H4B1r1ficjo1_1280.jpg]volante design[/url] jacket, bright orange stripes followed  her torso side and snugly hugged her feminine shape well enough. It was the only comfort she could use against the growing numbness filling her bit by bit, threatening to empty her of all strength. Rach wouldn’t let it win but it didn’t mean she was immune to its mental effects. 
 
While the priest’s monotone voice droned on in the backdrop, Racheli’s mind took the moment to remind her of her pain's source.

Her mind was no longer at the funeral, surrounded by people clustering around the floral urn set on a pedal stool, but back home.  It turned out home was a cheap, remodeled trailer with a few room additions to make it look less trashy than its origins. Most of it was her own sweat and blood mingling with her hard work, thanks to weeks at web surfing, putting aside small cash amounts, and buying the right tools. It didn’t help her perfectionist nature kept getting in the way and stirred up her pride to repair it several times. 

The sweetened memories were easily blackened when her mind moved past the history and into the actual day, her figure starting in the shoddy living room. Her breath held in her throat the moment she slowly moved past the bathroom and into the bedroom. A sourness leapt to her throat back to the vivid image of her grandmother’s figure, thin and aged, laying on the floor. Naturally Rach’s impulse pushed to the surface when she dropped the take out cartons in her arms, leaving them to splatter onto the ground and keen over to shake the still woman. No response. Rach’s body stiffened while her ears blocked out the voices around her, unable to tell the proceedings had finally concluded, and completely lost in the follow up scene. The rain overhead rumbled and the sky vibrated with the sound, growling at the small figures below. Rach didn’t move. Her eyes stared vacantly into her grandmother’s set up in front her and bore into the delicate, fragile looking urn holding the old woman’s ashes. Blaming it with her haunted expression.  

Still as stone, her hands pushed farther into the jacket’s insides. It was the only good coat she owned since the debt collectors finished with her grandmother’s assets, taking nearly everything save her clothes, her grandmother’s ashes and meager belongings she owned herself. The trailer was gone and with it, any memories from her childhood. All of it to just greasing their slimy fingers. Wetness made her head jerk the moment a droplet touched her, jerking her back into the present and twisted in place to finally acknowledge she was alone. The young priest, whose voice she had zoned out, approached with the china urn carried in both arms. She couldn't help but studied him. He was about in his late twenties, dressed in a black suit and white collar pushed tightly about his pale skin giving him a traditional yet modern look. His beard was neatly trimmed about his chin, jawline and upper lip, aging his features some. Thin lips curled up into a modest smile, his blue eyes seemed to look right through her. It made her uncomfortable while she reached for the person she loved the most in this world. 

“Heaven gained an angel, rest assured in knowing that. She’ll be watching over you from above.” The man popped out calmly, letting her take the urn. 

“I know, but doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Racheli stated coldly as she turned and walked away. Rain started to drench her when the heavens poured down in her wake, her figure unfazed by the jacket’s thin outside becoming sopping wet. Instead, it merely hid the tears cascading silently down her cheeks.   

[center]**********************************************[/center]      

The Robert D. Sherman Airport terminal was packed when Racheli made through security. 

She just walked out away from the guard frisking for any weapons, her stuff finally the last to be check, with bags grasped tightly in her hands. Her passport and identification was wedged deeply in her mouth during her need to get the hell out of the way. Rach’s teeth deeply bite into the tasteless plastic while fighting not to gag. Green eyes shifted from side to the other, discovering  the nearest customs counter occupied by the airport’s service attendant and the whole time trying not to drop her luggage on route to the woman. It wasn’t easy. Every few steps Rach had to abruptly stop, her sneakers squeaking loudly against the overly polished floor, then curtly adjust her bags’ strap. Pulling them back up, she tried to rush over to the main desk before someone else cut in front of her. It seemed the bastard upstairs had other plans because no sooner than when she was a few feet from it, a fat, male tourist shoved himself right into her spot without a word or glancing back to note her struggle. 

Racheli’s teeth grinded a bit, creating bite marks into the plastic, while she glared at the man’s back. It was clear she wanted to punch his ass to the ground as she inhaled, using a cleansing breath to purge the thoughts. Her action was a temporary fix but better than her alternative preference. When she saw no other options available to her, Rach huffed and hauled her bags to form a line behind the asshole where she stood for another hour until he was finished. The woman’s patience was worn thin by her prior customer, or likely wasn’t a people person, gave a frown at Rach still clenching the needed items in her mouth. Grunting a bit, her bags were shoved against the counter front while she passed over her identification quickly. 

It took another hour when the bitch finally finished, waving her off for the new woman. Using that same plastic smile and cheeky tone on the new customer, Rach grunted her thoughts, pleased to have escaped. It wouldn’t take long for her friend’s cousin to arrive and retrieve as scheduled though the wait was a bother to endure. Rach had let Garret take a picture her before she departed on the plane wearing her current outfit. Her dress was simple with a colorful flare and sex appeal in it to make her stick out. She naturally was still wearing the coat she had at the funeral since anyone should be able to see the vibrate orange unless they were color blind or stupid. Zipped a third the way revealed her low cut shirt, green covered in the mixture made from black, faded zebra stripes and dotted paint stains. It was topped off with a silver, celtic pendant choker hanging tightly against her neck. She liked the shape most of all, a unique knotted one that fit inside a circle design, where it rested close to her pulse. Her bottoms were raggy and looked like cheap, overly loved jeans.  Her shapely thighs had one or two rips on the inside, showing fishnet stocking though the widen gaps, just below mid-way. From the knees down were faded, torn holes and rips giving the illusion these pants had been around the block for a long while. Ironically they were thrift shop purchase only a few days ago, their current condition a way to purge her creativity. Rach only hoped the woman didn’t forget her and force her to hitchhike to the address in her back pocket. 

Causally strolling to the nearby cafe, the rush hour ending, she plopped into the nearest iron cast chair and tossed her bags down with a heavy thump. Her body slumped over and the soreness filled her flesh, the effort in shifting from lengthy sitting on the plane to suddenly walking through the vast terminal, finally brought to her awareness. It hurt it a lot. Leaning forward, her hands reached up and covered her face to rub her temple and release the tension headache building. It had started just a few minutes after getting off which she now waited for the advil to kick in. 

Racheli licked her dry lips and skin bumped, sensing the guy at the cafe counter eyeing her for loitering. Inwardly she knew the guy wasn’t going to leave her alone unless she bought a coffee or something, the knowledge causing her hand to reach for the nearest bag. It was unzipped easily and her hand revealed a woman’s wallet, also paint covered, then popped it open. She pulled out her debit card while she gracefully rose to her feet, bring her to the register shortly. Nothing looked but in her situation, beggars couldn’t be choosy. Eyeing her language from the corner of her vision, she ordered a hotdog, cheesy fries, and soft drink hoping the combination between the three might hasten her relief. At least for twelve bucks worth it better keep him off her ass about taking up space and not adding to his profits. Gruffly thanking him, she took the cheap, plastic tray with her back to the table where she released onto the marble surface. It made a loud clatter, spilling some soda and almost toppling her overloaded hotdog. 

Rach slid into her seat where she poked a single cheesy fry into the globbed on ketchup layers, surprised to hit something underneath the insulating sauce. At least it wasn’t a bun and squeezed tomatoes, she thought mildly and popped the greasy, cut potato into her mouth. She chewed carefully as she leaned down to slip her wallet back into the original bag. Making sure it was closed and tightly, the woman returned to enjoy her meal, her eyes watching the hour tick by slowly.