[h3][center][color=BD892F]Sophia Lemane[/color][/center][/h3][color=silver][right]La Plata, Maryland
September 14th, 2020 - 7:00 pm[/right][/color]At last, she was alone. The room wasn't some kind of fancy hotel room, but she didn't mind. It had four walls, and a door that could lock. Satisfying enough. It would suffice as a safe and quiet place for the time being. From where she stood in the middle of the room, she sighed, going over to sit on the edge of one of the beds to remove her belt. 

Instead of dumping the entire belt on the floor, she then began to remove each of the items from the belt. The pepper spray, which she never used. The baton, which she never touched. She opened it and closed it a few times, waving it around in the air randomly before dropping it on the floor. Good luck warding off a clockwork with this. Then lastly, the knife. Holding it in her hand, she ran her thumb across the sharp edge. Another thing she hadn't had any use for. Those three items, they had all been useless. Sheathing the knife, she put it on the floor as well, though more carefully. Slumping backwards onto the bed, she reached behind her and pulled off the hair tie, letting her hair spread out around her. 

Savannah was dead. Not breathing, not smiling, not yelling. Motionless, on that battlefield, eyes still open. Why? Why did the gargoyle have to snatch someone from the truck? Why couldn't the attackers have left them alone? Why did the monsters attack the town? Why was it this team that was sent out? Why, why, why? She lifted a fisted hand as if to smack the blankets in anger, before she let it fall, deflating. Running through the what had happened during the entire battle, she realized she didn't want to forget any of it. 

It wouldn't seem right to just let go and move on, not when people had died. She wanted to remember every detail. She wouldn't let herself forget Savannah. Ever. Sitting up to remove her cardigan, she removed the floppy pieces of wishalloy that had been held in place by the fitting garment. The pieces on her torso and arms had reverted since she had already put them on in the truck, but the wishalloy on her legs still clung on. She'd have to wait for those to fall off.

The rest of the night was spent holed up in her motel room. She tried to shower, but gave up after the water refused to remain hot. She didn't feel like going out to eat anything, she didn't feel hungry. Even if she were, she doubted any food would taste good right now. She made herself go over each detail of the battle again and again, starting from entering the truck for the drive to Wisford and ending with the arrival at the motel. Many parts of the battle seemed blurred and hazy, especially after Savannah had died. But she tried her best to remember everything, wishing that she had her journal to write down the events in. 

How long would they be staying in this motel? Why hadn't they driven directly back to USARILN?

She had too many questions, but she pushed them out of her mind as she pushed back the covers of the bed to climb in under them. An unfamiliar bed, but still not entirely uncomfortable. It seemed clean, and it was something to cover her up and wrap herself up in. Sleep didn't come easily, though. One hour passed, then two, then three, and more before she finally drifted off into a troubled sleep.