/ / ~ S i e r r a . . .
( this is how you remind me. )

The sun peeping through the obsidian curtains gradually roused her from her from a cocoon of warmth, and her sleep. Irked by the fact she had been awoken so early – or so she thought – Sierra let her eyelids close again, before rotating her body, so she wasn't facing the window. The mere thought of the chilly Autumn weather outside sent shivers rocketing through her body. A shroud of heat lingered only inches from her face, warming her. Unsure of what this was, the girl arched herself forward, only to come in contact with a warm, firm object that seemed to be... breathing. Reisan. The name freed the butterflies that were held captive behind prison bars in her stomach. His element licked at his sun kissed skin, emitting waves of heat that she greedily pressed herself against, absorbing it. Her element – water – had always made her temperature cooler. With her face pressed against his chest, she inhaled deeply, adoring the dull scent of his cologne. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the gentle thrum of his heart, indicated he was still sleeping. Carefully peering through her thick lashes, Sierra studied the silver scars staining his well defined muscles. The sea blue eyes inched their way down to the waistband of his jeans. A thick layer of muscle rested just above the waistband – a layer of muscle she probably shouldn't have noticed. The feeling of laying in his arms was a drug of it's own. On and off, the girl hovered on the brink of sleep. Laying in the arms of another was a foreign but comforting feeling. On the occasion, she could feel his heart quicken or skip a few beats, as if he were having a nightmare, and this usually sent her soaring back awake. Finally, after receiving a couple more winks of sleep, Sierra withdrew contact from the boy and shuffled over towards the edge of the bed. 
A pile of feminine looking clothes balanced upon the arm of the tartan couch. Were they for her? Where had he even gotten them from? The thought of how he had gotten his hands on these clothes were soon released from her mind as she scooped them up into her arms. Jeans, a dark grey hoodie, socks and clean lingerie. A grateful grin curved at her lips as she headed towards the bathroom. On her journey, the clumsy girl stumbled over an unknown item and hit the grey carpet with a muted thud. Rubbing her bare knees, Sierra muttered dark curses, glancing over at Reisan to see if she had awoken him. He was still sleeping, but stirred slightly and broke into a series of quiet snores. She giggled quietly and glanced at the object she had tripped on. A pair of knee high, black boots with a microscopic heel. “He knows how to pick out some sexy shoes, I'll give him that much,” the girl murmured to herself, studying them carefully. There was no size tag on her clothes, nor was there a size on the boots but found herself hoping they'd fit her. Tottering off into the bathroom with her pile of clothes, the door clicked shut behind her, barely audible. The reflection of herself startled her immensely. Dark circles of blue and purple outlined her neck, and two of her fingers instinctively reached up and applied pressure against them. Wincing as a dim pain sizzled under the bruises, vivid memories came pouring through her head, burning holes into her mind like acid. Someone had snapped her neck – the same man that had tried to break through the threshold cloaked with runes. It was a little blurred, but the memories had been easily recovered. It had all happened so fast, it was slightly confusing. Voices whispers in her mind, informing her that he was Reisan's brother. He had crushed her windpipe and snapped her neck. The man had had a brilliant opportunity to kill her – but he hadn't. Maybe she was more important to them than she had realised she was. Shoving the harsh memories from her cage of thoughts, Sierra ignored the bruises and stripped herself free of the colourful bikini, tip-toeing over to the shower.
 The water had been like magic – warm and massaging. Her hair now smelt of mango and coconut, and her skin held the delightful stench of lavender. Refreshed and squeaky clean, the girl wiggled into her clothes. The dark jeans hugged her legs snugly, and the dark grey hoodie was thick, and warm. Rubbing her hands together as they disappeared under the sleeves, she let her bronze hair shower down her back in tumbling waves. 
Sauntering over towards the window, sapphire eyes gazed up at the silver sky. The once fiery orb had been replaced by a mass of pallid clouds stretching out for miles. Not a glimpse of blue could be seen up above, nothing that promised a fine, sunny day. Slumping her shoulders with disappointment, her gaze drifted toward the minute kitchen and her stomach rumbled softly in response. The truth was, Sierra had always been a horrific cook. She would've burned water if it was possible. Ambling over towards the refrigerator, her manicured fingers grasped the handle, and pried it open with little effort. Along with the door groaning in protest, a film of bitterly cold mist spiralled around her clothed legs, but goosebumps still expelled over her skin. Inside the pale interior of the refrigerator were a couple of sealed cups of milk, that were often used to blend in with tea or coffee. There was also a beer, which would've been left behind by one of the most recent guests. The motel room itself was run-down and shabby, so the beer could've been months – years – old. This caused her to wonder what the exterior of the motel looked like. An amused giggle escaped from her lips, and she deftly let the door of the refrigerator swing shut with numerous squeaks along the way. On the scratched door were alphabet magnets, accompanied by the numbers from one to ten. Tilting her head slightly, Sierra arranged the letters to form the simple word 'angels'. Overcome with boredom, the girl slithered towards the cupboards, finding most of them empty. But in a cupboard above the aqua stove, a flyer spilled out. It had colourful balloons printed around in a square, acting as a border. Bold, indigo writing captured her attention. It read; “OPEN HOUSE PARTY” in all capital letters. 
Rising an eyebrow, she continued to read the information about this party – including the date. The flyer also obtained the date on which the party would be held on. It would be held tonight. Grinning broadly, Sierra set it down on the counter, drumming her fingers against its chilled marble. A sudden interest in attending the party swept over her. It would be a good opportunity to feed, and she might even enjoy herself or meet some new people. Reisan, however, she wasn't sure if he'd allow it. Or want to attend.
 Folding the sheet of paper once, she dawdled towards the mound of clothes that belonged to him and balanced it upon them. Sierra sighed as her eyes delivered a glance in the direction of him and made her way back towards her side of the bed. She launched herself under the covers and turned on her side so her back was to him. The sky tainted with gloom and ruined with silver and grey projected a sluggish light. The petite girl let the sound of Reisan's breathing lull her into a light sleep. She found herself swimming in memories – memories of the previous night. The night she wished she'd died.