πͺβ’ Flashes of a smoky room obstructed her mind, the wails of terror, dread and mourn ripping through her skull like she was being run over, her hands itching with the ghosting feel of cradling a limp torso in her small lap. Lifeless eyes stared back up at her. Her sister.
Powder bolted up from where she lay at her desk, panting rapidly as she shot a hand to rapidly run through her sweat-drenched blue hair, out of its usual space-burns.
Shit. She fell asleep at her desk. Again.
She let out a heavily shaky breath, running her hands over her face before rubbing at her eyes. Goddamn nightmares. This happened every time the month of august hit.
The anniversary of Viβs death was coming up.
She slowly rose from her chair, sighing as she flattened out the bunched fabric of her shirt beneath her one-strap overalls, shaking her head and turning around. She was in her workshop, and it mustβve been at least mid day because she came here this morning.
Well, they had some shit to do at the last drop. People to meet. Bars to clean. People to serve, as per usual.
She sauntered over the span of the thick metal propellor blades her workshop was made of, over to the spiral staircase leading out of the chasm of the abandoned and non-working air-duct, pushing open the awkwardly slanted hatch to get out, before locking it up.
Sheβd been so restless lately. Though she supposed anyone would be. Her sister died seven years ago and yet it still followed her like a dog waiting for a damn treat. She always got so irritable and manicβ her BPD really seemed to kick in. And whatever unfortunate disorders she had.