Fanfare

Sleep

Trenna follows Pierce through the market in silence, quiet where the world around them is raw and screaming violent abuse to the skies, wailing its terror, its fury at being contained in the ring of flames. Trenna can't help but feel a little lost at the fury of the market; how can it long for an outside, something different, when it has never known any other way?

Pierce's shoulders are straight and tense, and he holds his dagger openly by his side to ward off any who would dare approach them. Despite his silence and apparent anger, he makes sure not to walk too far from her, and she can't help but be grateful; without being able to tell what is light and what is dark, she wouldn't have the first clue of where to hide, were she being followed. And it's hard not to feel safe with Pierce towering ahead of her. It shames her that his presence gives her confidence, because it used to be that she never felt safe, not unless she was home with Joss and Kina. That was all she needed her family for; safety, security, acceptance. But now, she doesn't need them, not really. That doesn't stop her from wanting them, though. She misses them so deeply it's an ache inside of her. And maybe this is why the market's call is becoming harder to resist. Because, when she's lost in the music, the fire, the light and the sound, she doesn't remember anything, need anything but the music to go on and the fire to keep burning. The girl she becomes in the market surrenders to the sound and the longings of her body. And she's not sure that what her body wants is safe, or at all what her mind believes is good for her. Because she's sure that if Pierce hadn't found her tonight, she'd have danced right into the heart of the market and been burnt to a crisp, magical powers or none.

A woman brushes her shoulder as she breezes past, a man in chase, laughing madly, a glint in his eyes. Trenna sighs and covers a yawn, her steps heavy; she didn't sleep much last night because of her nightmares, things of terror and rage that she could not remember once she had woken. But she is not usually one to get so tired so quickly. Pierce glances at her over his shoulder to check she's there, and she avoids his eyes, staring resolutely at his back as her eyes try to flutter closed. She forces them open as they near the edge of the market, and it is with profound relief that they slowly edge away from the place. It was costing her more and more to resist the market's magnetism, and now she feels as if the strain, the weight of resistance, is wearing away. But her energy is not returning. She yawns loudly and covers her mouth, pausing to catch her breath and wonder at this sudden tiredness, this weakness, this heavy feeling of her bones.

She walks on again as Pierce beckons. The stalls and music of the market lapse into crumbling buildings that get larger and larger. Houses and warehouses, towering buildings and squat stores in various stages of abandonment and habitation; they pass these by until, finally, they come to the tunnel. Trenna crouches outside as Pierce waits for her to go ahead. She covers her mouth and closes her eyes as she yawns widely, a small tear dripping down her cheek. She sleepily wipes it away and notices Pierce frowning at her.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

"I'm fine," Trenna says. But that does not come out of her mouth. It is garbled as she yawns again, covering her lips. She puts down her hand and frowns, trying again, but she can't get the words out. Her eyelids feel as if they are weighted down, and she can't help but close them, let them drop. Her body, her limbs, are too much of a burden to hold, and so she lets them go, lets go of everything, of reality and wakefulness. She drifts into sleep, unaware of the cool, hard concrete beneath her and the world that continues to spin, the fire that continues to burn around her.