The spilling light from outside shone onto her.
That was what she saw but not what she felt.
What was one supposed to feel when your told—'You ha ve a m a ss in y our br a i n..'
She didn't know, maybe she never would. She crystallized the notion of it, shaping it until it was but a crumpled mess.
She pushed it aside, suppressing it—the idea that is was right there, no matter how much time she had left. It would be there, it would still not be enough.
She shoved it, again, and again.
Again. Again, again, again. Too many times to name—
Closing the gate that led to the deepest pits of her heart and spirit. Wrapping the dark and cold chains so tight nothing could escape, even if she willed for it to break apart.
And—
She buried it beneath the people she'd piled up over the years, buried the gate under the heaviest one, the one that had tried to drag her under more times than she wanted to remember.
Brilliant light.
She looked up and saw Ikade's face staring from above, in all of her warm presence breaking through the cold that clung to her bones.
Even if her eyes were slightly red and puffy.
Sierra reached up without thinking.
Her hands outstretching through the freezing ceiling of her thoughts.
Her own face was one of bliss and longing, and grabbed onto the soft presence that healed her weary spirit. Her palms cupped Ikade's cheek and brushed her thumbs over the warm skin. Her back curved slightly against the mattress, absorbing her weight into it.
"What's wrong?"
Ikade voice came out gentle, grasping the trembling hands with her own. Letting the exhausted librei enjoy the moment.
Sierra pulled her closer and held on like the feline might vanish into the sky. Her face pressed into Ikade's chest, breathing in her warmth.
"Aren't you a little clingy today?"
"Mhmm."
They shifted onto one side and Ikade patted Sierra's back with gentle hands. The minutes passed by and by then, Sierra had calmed down. Her eyes drooping and she felt like she could sleep the whole day.
"Don't tell me you're trying to sleep already~?" Her voice was teasing, playing with the tufts on Sierra's head.
"Just a couple more minutes mom..."
Sierra answered, her voice muffled by the soft pillow.
"—!"
She jolted upright and hit the headrest with force while covering her reddened ear, huffing like a startled cat.
"Why would you blow my ear!? You cant just do that!"
Her canines were bare for all to see, her tufts leaning back like a cat. Ikade however, was all but amused, covering her mouth with one hand.
"Haha—warui warui. But it's past ten already, so…"
Without waiting for Sierra's protests, Ikade stood and slipped through the doorframe, her tail swaying lazily behind her. Ikade turned her head around before sticking her tongue out at her.
Sierra steeled her nerves for a moments before crawling off the bed and slipping on her slippers.
She walked to the closet, pulled the doors open and sifted through cabinets until her hands found a worn workout outfit—one that was cool to the touch. Sierra tucked them under her arm and headed toward the bathroom, the sound of her slippers dragging against the floor.
Thirty minutes slipped by behind the closed door—running water, the clatter of bottles, and the blow of warm air through her hair.
When she stepped out again, she was already dressed and ready for a quick workout. Her muscles loosened from the hot shower.
The band-aid had come off last night, the painkillers settling in her stomach from a few minutes ago and her eyes fully hydrated. She returned to the bed and leaned down to search for her running shoes.
Sierra found them before sitting on the mattress to slid them on.
She stood up and pressed each toe cap twice on the floor, her eyes swept across the messy bedroom.
"Hah..."
She snapped her fingers and everything around her stood upright at once—the clothes on the ground straightening themselves to the laundry basket, the pillow fluffing back to normal. A hair tie rolled out from under the desk and bumped into her foot. She picked it up, tying her hair back while watching the magic finish its work.
Sierra left the room soon after and made for the first staircase beside the pantry. Walking up the three short flights, she stepped into their gym and tilted her head back as though she was holding a water bottle.
Water flowed into her mouth from her cupped hand, swallowing the cool liquid. After several refreshing seconds, she exhaled in satisfaction and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Since I just got back, I think I've earned a little break."
She nodded to herself and started to stretched her body into all kinds of shapes, gaining a few centimeters from the motion.
Once she finished stretching, Sierra hopped onto a treadmill tucked against the wall, tapping through the controls and waited for the belt to pick up speed. It rolled forward gradually, the rhythm settling in while music played for the next thirty minutes.
"Gulp…haa~"
She exhaled in satisfaction again, the last drop of water leaving her hands while her chest rose from the workout. Her legs protesting from having to work more than they needed. Sierra stretched her body once more to get rid of the lingering stiffness still left inside her.
Sierra didn't wait for more time to tick down before heading straight back to her room, once there—she threw herself to the bathroom. She opened the door again and peeked at their closet, nearly forgetting her clothes.
The doors flung open when her 'everyday' out shot toward her, the hinges creaking from the force.
Catching the clothes mid air, she turned on the shower after shutting the bathroom door.
Another thirty minutes passed. Sierra stepped out while she dried her hair out, rubbing vigorously at her feathers to chase out the last of the dampness.
The towel landed in a lazy heap on the bedframe.
Sierra took brisk stride to the kitchen—cutting through the pantry entirely, she found the room empty except for a sticky note on the counter.
'I went out to see a few friends, I left you a snack in the fridge. Love, Ikade.'
She shrugged and crumpled the note, tossing it into the bin before turning toward the fridge.
This one was packed with drinks—rows of water, alcohol, and every brand in between. Definitely not the right fridge. She swung open the second one on her right.
Her eyes landed on a clear container labeled with another sticky note. She ignored the message entirely, grabbing the small treat and downing it in record time without even checking what it said.
Sierra looked to her left and spotted the short passage that curved right toward the staircase leading to her old bedroom. She walked past it before turning right toward the garage.
Scratch that—she dropped herself onto a beanbag in the small lounge next to the garage door instead. Two walls were lined with shelves, packed with books of every kind, a laptop resting on a slick desk nearby. She slipped off her slippers and replaced them for a pair of red, comfortable running shoes.
The moment she stood, the gate rung. A screen flickered into the upper right corner of her view. Sierra lifted her left wrist and spoke through the bracelet.
"What is it?"
She said, her voicing passing through and out of the gate speaker.
The delivery boy glanced around before finding the camera, leaning closer.
"Uh—delivery for a Sierra?"
Something clicked in her mind and her response came out with a faint chirp.
"I'll be out in a bit!"
The screen faded away the second he opened his mouth, she didn't feel like walking halfway across the house so she opened both the garage door.
It barely lifted two feet and she slid under it, jogging towards the gate. She panted lightly and saw the delivery boy standing with a black crate in front of his feet.
His apple bobbed when he saw her, clearing his throat into his hand before speaking again. They chatted and Sierra signed a form. The back of her head thumped while the crate levitated onto her property.
Sierra took her happy ass back to the half-opened garage and ducked under it, the door sliding down shut with a simple wave of her hand.
Her steps were light, almost blissful while she stepped into her shop—the crate dropping onto the floor with a dull thud.
She flung the cover upward with a bit too much telekinetic power, sending it flying toward the ceiling. Sierra recoiled instantly, her arms shooting over her head and she shrank into a tight little ball.
A dry chuckle slipped out. She rose to one knee, leaning over the crate to admire her newest addition—even if it would probably never see real action.
After all, it was far easier to explain why she carried firearms than why she was casting in public.
"Sgl two forty-five"
Her eyes shone for the fraction of a second, reflecting the weapon nestled inside.
She lifted the rifle high in the air like she'd just won it at a state fair. Sleek with different tones of grey with a very expensive scope that she was sure costed more than the whole thing itself.
The stock of the rifle—grenade launcher, technically—was fixed like every other firearm. Only the buttstock and a few other pieces replaceable.
The firearm had a slim angled foregrip that felt okay for the most part, a clear magazine that she wished was a stronger material.
Speaking of magazines, she pulled out the three empty magazines from the crate and tossed to the workstation on the far right wall.
Sierra stood up and nudged the empty crate beneath the workstation, right under the driver resting there. She moved closer, checking yesterday's leaking fitting. No green fluid seeped out this time, so she left it alone.
Her gaze shifted to the right, landing on the other driver—the pair she hadn't touched in months. It lay on its side. The only real differences was the signle extinguisher, a short collapsible ladder about three inches deep running along most of its length, and her assault kit strapped to it—
She set the launcher on the counter and pulled out a cardboard box from underneath, filled with useless trinkets and two worn weapon cases. Reaching for the larger one, she wiped the dust from its surface with her palm, then rummaged back into the box to grab a mounting bracket.
Her knees complained when she stood again, placing everything on the counter. The worn driver levitating up, rotating onto its side—carefully, so the extinguisher wouldn't burst. Her hands moved about, trying to maneuver the bracket into place. The ladder made everything awkward but after wrestling with it for a moment, she managed to slide the bracket into place beside the two empty cases already mounted.
It took several minutes of fighting pins and alignment holes but she eventually secured everything, giving the bracket a firm tug. Satisfied enough, she moved on to the case itself, connecting it to the bracket with a few more pins.
This time she pulled the case's safety latch downward. The container unfolded, snapping into its full size before she slid the launcher inside. Pushing the latch back up, sealing it in—mostly. A bit of play still rattled inside.
"Its be fine! Probably...maybe."
Her eyes glanced all around and to her gear scattered around while she grabbed her barely damp hair.
"Oh yeah, sure—keep everything you never use. It's not like you've moved in two years or anything."
Sierra groaned and her head thumped for just thinking about it.
"But I also bought all of this years ago!...I cant just part with them either!"
Her feet carried her in slow laps around the work booth, nearly stumbling on the random shit littering the ground. She started scavenging through piles and corners, sifting through all the useless stuff she'd accumulated over the years.
"This isn't even mine! Where the hell did I get a pair of masks from?!"
"You know what… I'll deal with this when we get back."
Sierra quickly grabbed both her rifle and shotgun from the rack on the wall, securing them the same way she did with the grenade launcher. Each case getting a firm tug to make sure everything sat right.
She stepped back a few feet and inhaled deeply. Her heart rattling inside her chest, sweat pooling in her palms despite her hands grabbing absolutely nothing.
Both drivers suddenly lifted at once—ripping upward in a single violent motion. Sierra dropped straight to the floor, her knees bursting in pain the moment they smacked on the floor. Her chest clenched tight, like if an invisible hand wrapped around her heart and squeezed hard. Her breath quickening—oxygen failing to enter her lungs.
It felt like her body had forgotten how to breathe. The only thing keeping her conscious was her own desperate, manual breathing.
Whatthehell!?
Her vision tunneled at the edges while the few icons in her view flickered like a glitchy film. Sierra coughed once—and just like that, everything snapped back to normal. The room settled. The drivers hovered quietly. Only her sharp gasps filled the space mixed.
She pushed herself off the floor, only for one leg to buckle immediately. Still rattled from the sudden lose of air, Sierra stayed where she was, taking several long minutes to steady her breathing.
"No...way..."
Her voice wavered in disbelief, confusion walking through each word.
"…No way....Did I really just—am I actually getting weaker?"
She lifted her head and glared upon the two drivers hovering a foot off the ground.
"What… the hell are you two doing?!"
Her voice slammed through the room, jumping several decibels—sharp enough to crackle against the walls. The cool in her eyes burned away, replaced by something hotter than any heat she could conjure.
A set of opaque icons flickered into existence at the bottom left of her vision. The information condensing into numbers in the upper left corner.
The drivers whirred to life when the pumps clicked on, forcing liquids through their lines—bubbles sliding past one another. Sierra could hear both inner barrels spinning up, the steady rise in pitch. The room warmed gradually from their ambient temperature before a few blurts of hot air blasted from vents.
She found enough strength to push herself upright again, feeling the control back in her grasp. The first driver shot to her side, it's barrel aiming at the workstation, while the second drifted behind her, positioning itself as rear guard with its barrel angled downward.
"Was it a fluke?"
Her gaze dropped to her palm. It looked steady enough—calm even. She curled it into a tight fist and though the air had stopped heating, her body felt heavier.
"…Shit. Has it really been that long…?"
She flicked a glance at the driver beside her. A moment later, it swapped positions with its pair.
Sierra twisted her body to one side, the drivers mirroring her with a short delay. Both settled onto their respective workstations, and the weight pressing against her shoulders lifted immediately. When she raised them again, the heaviness returned just the same.
The minutes passed by while she got used to their weight again, playing around with her thought.
Eventually her legs carried her toward the bedroom after the moment soured her mood.
She changed into a bulky feeling jacket painted in a faded black, a grey hoodie barely visible beneath it, along with a white cap and white sneakers. The band-aids already put one like clockwork, her necklace still hanging from her neck.
She took a moment by the mirror, checking herself out. Her reflection stared back with that familiar mix of weariness and aloofness. Sierra played with her cap until she found a comfortable look with it, the tufts peaking out through the cap.
The only real color on her was her hair and feathers.
"…Yeah. It's definitely one of those days."
Her mind drifted through the walk across the house and out the front door. The one fifty five was still park out front, slick from last nights condensation.
Sierra opened the car door waiting and hopped in, the green Bmv already parked inside the garage since yesterday afternoon.
The engine cranked to life and she eased the car out—rolling past the gate and onto the street. Time passed in quiet pockets until she was cruising along the highway, heading halfway across the city to where loved ones rested.
Sierra had made a quick stop at a random flower slop and picked out two lone marigolds, paying at the counter with the lovely lady working there.
Cars flowed around her in steady currents, buildings sliding by. The wind tugging at strands of her hair while the city moved around her. She rode along until she reached a quieter stretch, pulling into a small, subdued part of town where the noise faded into background hum.
Sierra stepped out, shutting the door with a solid thunk. She climbed a short set of concrete stairs with the flows in hand, her eyes drifting to the bronze lettering along a stone wall. A narrow pond wrapped around the structure, its water cold and still.
'Communal Crematorium 27'
The place was calm but a quiet sadness hung in the air. Sierra gave only a brief glance to the others still deep in their grief, she had been the same once.
But that ended years ago. Now, it felt more like visiting a friend who was always getting sick.
Maybe at some point in history everyone had their own grave. But that was then, and this was now.
Even in a small crematorium, they still managed to fit so many tombs—well, metal shelves with boxes on both sides—and even then, it still cost a few grand...what a scam.
Sierra's expression dipped just a bit, her ears picked up fragments of conversations—soft voices speaking to loved ones, others laced with anger. She walked about and smelled the clean air, mostly clean air while her gaze drifted over the handful of trees and patches of grass that softened the otherwise cold site.
When she reached her quiet spot, her breath didn't hitch. Her emotion didn't run rampant, not even a faint ache in her heart.
'Valentina n Uncle'
Sierra closed her eyes, digging through old memories, trying to pull their faces back into focus. But… no.
No matter how tight she scrunched her face, nothing appeared.
Only a blurry mess sat where their faces should've been, leaving her like a hollow tree.
"No luck huh?"
Only silence prevailed, and she returned it in kind. She placed the two flowers into the small rusted holder, giving them a gentle push to make sure they stayed.
She didn't have any real words left to say. You could only repeat the same things so many times before they stopped meaning anything.
A few minutes slipped by. Sierra finally reached into her jacket's pocket, her fingers brushing the ring of keys before pulling out the smallest one. She slid it into the locked box and pulled it halfway open.
Inside were two small metal urns and a cliché photo, its colors washed and warped with old water drops. The picture showed her in the center, leaning against a slim wheelchair with a cheeky smile, bandages wrapped around an arm and on one eye. Valentina stood on one side, leaning toward her—the face completely lost to the water damage.
The man's face beside them had once been covered by a harsh sharpie mark, now faded to nothing.
Sierra let out a soft sigh and slammed the box shut.
Brrt-brrt-brrt!
She lifted her wrist, the screen materializing with a caller ID—the familiar shit-eating grin of a man showed, with a head full of lush blue and white hair, his short pointy ears poking from the side.
Lucas sat on the corpse of a beast, his called ID photo.
A grin pulled across her features and her eyes softened. She grabbed her earbuds, popped one in and accepted the call. The sound of someone drinking—hard, blasted into her ear.
"W'sup—" Sierra glanced around instinctively for a bench and dropped onto one in a heartbeat. "Fishman."
"Don't call me that."
The fish called Lucas took another long drink…then came the sharp crash of a bottle hitting something it shouldn't.
"Ah shit." A sigh rattled through the line, followed by the sound of him sitting down.
"I was tryna make this into a bit y'know?"
He sounded defeated. Sierra opened her mouth.
"I believe you."
She absolutely did not.
"So—" She drew in her words, leaning back into the bench. "You call after like five years, and you're still drinking yourself sideways."
"Me? Drink?" Lucas hiccupped. "Nah, nah, it's just… milk?"
Sierra was baffled at the questioning response, having the urge to roll her eyes. "Why're you asking that like a question?"
"Hey—don't worry about that. What bout you? How've you been? Still carrying all that sorrow around? Like all that shit you'd carry?"
His patchy voice entered her ears, no thanks to his excessive drinking, only for more to follow after some time.
"Dude. It's been fifteen years." Sierra's grin stretched wider. "I'm doing fine. Your liver, on the other hand—is probably begging for mercy."
"I'd say more like fifty." Lucas muttered—drawing in a sad breath before his tone flipped without warning.
"Last time we all saw each other—your hair started going grey! Pfft! Hehahah!"
Sierra snorted, watching people come and go. The remark stung more than she'd liked to admit, sitting with it for a moment before speaking.
"Whatcha doing here anyway? I thought you ran off to the Columbian sands. What'd was it you wanted, something else to shoot at?" She asked, the sarcasm slipping in between her words.
"Yeah… something like that."
He sounded like he was about to take another drink, but it never came. The chair beneath him groaned with every move.
"I'm just here to visit, y'know? Leaving felt right after everything that went down back then."
Her earbuds picked up the soft shuffle of him shuffling, inhaling faintly before he spoke.
"That old man's still alive? I don't even have his number anymore."
"Yeah, he got hitched two years ago."
Lucas's laughter burst through her earbuds the moment she answered, loud enough to make her ears ring.
"Nah, come on. That grumpy fool settling down? Hah! Yeah right!"
They talked for who knew how long. The weather, thankfully, had decided to behave—the clouds stretched into a dark blanket above, the wind gently blowing her hair. Her outfit fit the moment rather perfectly.
"You'd ain't answer my question."
"Which one?" Sierra shot back, not entirely sure he remembered it himself.
"You still got them two? Back then we'd stack all our stuff on."
Her breath came out in pale puffs, her mind circling back to two rebellious tools she knew all too well.
"Yup… but at this point, they're really just for scaring people."
Sierra's tone was disappointed with a hint of irritation, their conversation drifting into the sky. "I only carry one these days. Ever since they started throwing all these casting restrictions, I went back to them."
"It's enough though—" She drew in a deep breath, her shoulders rising with a dull ache. "Everyone I deal with now is weak anyway. Even the dogs here are easier to bribe."
"Well, I can imagine. Listen—I've got some slots up in Columbia. It'd be a real shame if you got any weaker."
Lucas stood up from wherever he was, steeping somewhere she could not see and she knew it was almost time.
"If you're ever up here, I'll be waiting. We both know I'm gonna live way longer than any of you land dwellers."
A soft chuckle slipped out of him, swallowing his spit.
"Be seeing you—Sierra."
"Yeah." She twisted her head to one side, watching a wildefowl land on a patch of grass nearby.
"See you someday."
Some time passed before the call finally ended. The line indicator at the top of her view—jumping every time Lucas spoke—flickered once, then vanished the moment the connection cut.
Sierra was left alone with her thoughts.