Gold

[Loyola]

Waking Up

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Stuffy air is filling the nose, it feels like stinks. A slight glow of an orange night light and some minor noise from behind the wall is enough for Enma to open her eyes. As usual, feeling discomfort in her neck, her legs are lifting the blanket up and carelessly throwing it down at the wooden floor. Making a long and, from the sound of it, a desperate sigh she lazily sits at the edge of the bed. Trying to look around, she's having difficulty keeping her eyes wide open, them a narrow slits that really want to be shut. Lack of light makes any luxury room to look grim. There's no way she could call it a good morning, from the mix of a number of electric lights and moonlight she's woken up deep at night. With a huge effort, she's managing to stand up, making her way to a wide panoramic window. Wearing nothing but light-toned, cozy pajama her feet are getting cold. Her palm is touching a window surface, her dry skin is unlikely to leave any print on it, she's pursing her lips in tension, soon to roll them inside her mouth. Her tongue then moved to wet them up by slowly running around them. Next moment her hand at the cold glass is forming a first and making a powerful, but senseless punch against the bulletproof glass of her apartments. It sure hurts and makes her wake up faster than expected.

— Seal the windows, turn on the lights. The maids are free for today.

Enma's suppressed voice is giving orders to the smart house and local personnel. Cold steel panels are starting to roll from above with a very loud, thundering noise just as she finished saying to seal the windows. The system has recognized her further words and lights turn up at once, at first blinding her a little, as it was too bright. Looking down at her left hand, flexing her fingers slowly, she's looking at red stains caused by a punch. Having a wicked smile at her face, she just stands there, confused and uncertain.
 
Not quite walking straight, she's making her way into the bath, feeling like all of this cannot be real. Knowing this apartment mostly well, Loyola is looking down into the floor, sometimes seeing her bare feet. She almost turns around as if remembering something, but her head is empty and this move is all senseless and spontaneous as everything she does. The system is recognizing her as she reaches the bath, sure noise of the door rolling up still seems to be very loud as anything else during a deep night. Avoiding to look into the mirror, her eyes look down into the water sink as her pale hand is slowly reaching up for the tap, pushing for the coldest. Her palms collecting water feel like the burn, as water is ice cold. Diving her face into them, she's not very careful and wetting up her hair. Spending a few minutes doing that, she doesn't feel cold anymore, but soaking up her head did not help either. Her hand is blindly reaching for the towel as she's wiping her face dry and throwing it away for the maids to pick up later.

It was this moment when she looked at herself into the mirror. Looking into her own dim and forworn eyes is challenging by itself. Holding herself from punching the mirror, since she knows that unlike the window this may actually crack and cut her hand with the consequence of blood being everywhere. Closing her eyes she's just turning her head away, walking out into the corridor, being unsure if she even wants to walk back into her bedroom. Exhaling air for a long time, she hopes it would help to cope with stress, rolling her head upwards and staring into the forworn ceiling made of luxury materials. Remembering that she's still in a pajama and that her phone is still in the bedroom, she will still have to go there and take it.

 
Nervously stepping back into the bedroom, she hastily grabs her phone and nearly runs towards the wardrobe room, only to notice that is was not as the middle of a night, but early morning, as the sun is already setting up and city swarm is about to start moving. All the working bees are will soon get out from their holes to get to their workplaces, as Enma is trying to check if her phone was even charged enough. She's holding it, but not very firm, her hand is borderline shaking. Due to a pure lack, she's not ramming herself against the wall and successfully reaching the wardrobe room. Picking up the most utilitarian and simple set she could gather, pulling on the sunglasses, hoping that people won't recognize her.
 
Her eyes are starting to wet up as she's dressing up, she's barely suppressing herself to not actually be a whining bitch. Her eyes should be covered by the sunglasses, but she still believes that she can respect herself. It takes longer than usual to pull the boots on. It's still pretty warm inside and Loyola takes even more time to dress up and go out, she soon feels like she's getting sweaty. Rushing herself even more she breaks one of her long nails, it's a little painful so she's sucking on it just a little, muttering a few curse words beforehand. Сhecking for a phone in her pocket and pistol in the internal pocket of her coat, Loyola is staking up her hair and heading to exit. She doesn't feel like returning here ever again, mostly trying to run from herself than from this place. Deep inside she knows this, but she wants to believe that something like this will help.

Stepping into the private elevator, she turns away from the mirror, trying to think about where she will go and what she will do. Donna Loyola, where to go without a Sabre and loyal wing on you? The elite house she had an apartment in is surely having a massive park right beneath, not having anything in mind she just starts walking between the trees. The weather could not be worse, a whirlwind is bending the park tress as green leaves fall right beneath her boots one after another. Her coat is barely able to isolate her body, she stops, searching for her bag any hair bands. Finding a basic black one, she's tying up her hair into the firm horsetail and hiding it beneath the coat so the wind stops tearing her hair apart. Pulling up the hood to cover her head and hopefully feel cozier.

The wind is drying up her lips really fast, any exposed parts of the skin start feeling very cold, she's hiding her hands into the pockets as her dim eyes start searching for any cover. The signboards of restaurants and cafes do not look any attractive, she doesn't want to eat or drink. Maybe she should've stayed at home and drug herself up with Nox supplies that she still possesses, something stops her from going this very obvious road.

She just walks into the random cafe, she doesn't know why. Collapsing at the random seat, she pulls out her phone, trying to get distracted. She doesn't want to notice anything else, but she feels the waitress coming up with a wide and obviously fakes a smile, asking her what she would like to order. Only now realizing that she's sitting there in a coat, she would free herself from the sleeves and get it off her shoulders, dropping it as it is. It will end up terribly cramped, but she couldn't care less.

To her own surprise, her tone of voice manages to vibrate fairly normal, sounding a little dry, it was still bearable. For a moment she even starts worrying about how she looks without makeup with fucked up hair gathered and ponytail and sunglasses. Or maybe it's a relief, not too many will believe that this weird creature was in fact her.

— A cup of green tea, please.

Receiving the most uninspiring order she has had in a while, the waitress nods and says that she needs just one moment. Enny sighs in relief that the waitress has left her alone for a time, randomly tapping at the news and comms, hoping that something would hook her up and consume her at least for some time. Her hopes, of course, are false and just after a few moments, she hides her phone back into a pocket, not even feeling like writing something for now. Staring into a window she would just sit there with something in her chest burning. Soon waitress would deliver her order and watch the weird blond sitting there for much longer than it needs to empty a single middle-sized cup of tea.

Trying to get on the positive way of thinking, she's even trying to drum some melody, except for the one nail that she managed to break while dressing up of course. That soon makes her want to listen to actual music as she pushed headphones into her ears and tapping for it to start playing. The moment it seems becoming stable she breaks down once more, not able to cope with herself. What is wrong with me? Enma is asking herself, wiping up the tears that she couldn't hold this time with the paper napkins that are served and stocked at every table. Pushing them under sunglasses, she would not allow the teardrops to roll. Quickly paying up with the fingerprint, she leaves for exit in rush. Eagerly inhaling fresh air, breathing deep.

Soon calling a taxi to the nearest train station and ordering tickets into the random direction with her phone, Enma for a moment, comes back into a cafe asking for a shot of vodka. This time not caring much on how she looks or sounds, strong alcohol starts burning in her mouth and throat. A strong feeling that she needs to go somewhere away from here is taking her over again, blaming the walls for everything over herself. Loyola is walking out from the cafe, for good this time and impatiently waits for a taxi. Thought of calling to them and yelling is visiting her mind, but there's no way that would help to speed things up.
 
Objectively it took around five minutes as the car was nearby, taking a backseat, she hopes she won't need to talk to a driver to clarify the destination. Driver, gladly, is catching her wish and just looks up at his communicator for directions that she already wrote down in-app, a train station is about 30 minutes away, he wanted to tell, but he didn't. He soon steps on the gas and car starts rolling, Enma is grimly staring through the car window, observing streets and people passing, this flow is calming her down. Soon placing her forehead against the window. Now thinking how cowardly she really is, she cannot even end this.

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