novilunium

She sleeps like a rock at the best of times, and like a fearful, frightened child at the worst. It is a true wonder that anyone can be near her when she dozes, and the thin walls of the inn are no blessing. She alternates between cycles of dead-like slumber, the rise and fall of her chest barely seen and her breath barely heard, and fitful dreams of blood and teeth. Dreams of teeth falling out particularly disturb her more than they would the average person.

The bad dreams always lead her to contemplate things that she has long learned to push away from her conscious day-to-day mind. The only way these thoughts can find her are in her sleep; thoughts of what if, maybe if, if only and i wish. But wishing is for children, and Sierra hasn't been one for over five hundred years, and so she usually forces herself to prematurely end these thoughts by either setting out and leaving to track down the next renegade vampire, or finding solace in another. Neither of which she can do here.

It's after these fitful slumbers that she ventures out of the inn in the daytime, unable to bear remaining alone in her room any longer. It's on days like these that she finally deigns to inquire into the lives of others, engaging in conversation and partaking in life.