Thread: Clinging to Ashes (Translucentfeathers & Erebus)

Like she'd be taught so many times in the past, she counted to ten silently in her head slowly, then backwards just as slowly as her chair rocked in Cara's grip truthfully, she was somewhat impressed by the woman's strength though the feeling quickly evaporated as the blonde drew closer. Once again, she dared to reach out, caressing the stricken woman's neck. No doubt she would feel the tense tendons there as Marisa's body stiffened almost to the point of no return. She could feel her ears burning, cheeks following suit quickly as the other's coarse language broke through her internal counting, breaking the system and subsequently breaking her concentration. She had no witty response ready, no reaction planned in advance, nothing. Her fair skin was positively burning, possibly from all that nicotine she was second-hand inhaling but more than likely due to the close proximity of her new knows-no-bounds roommate. It affected her not to the point of arousal, but to something akin to a deer-in-headlights. Her dark eyes were wide, pupils dilated, her neck craning back even though her spine was trapped against the hard backing of the chair. She licked her lips habitually, her intention not to incite but to wet the dryness there, finding her throat parched once again. Finally she had the wherewithal to break her gaze away, flicking it non-noncommittally to the side and grimaced. Th-that would be unhygienic. She murmured in response. When the girl finally left, the air was no less stifling than it was. Marisa stood shakily, her hand trembling as she steadied herself on the table. Never had she met an individual so forthcoming, joking or not, a breech of personal space was not something she experienced often and Cara had done it twice within a span of two days. She couldn't use the bathroom to scrub herself clean again, not with her roommate already occupying it. She shuddered at what implications her entering would proffer and quickly banished the notion. Her neck and throat burned as did her nose as she gamboled uncomfortably toward the sink. Though there was no real difference in water, she still eyed the tap nervously. Quick to remind herself of the alternative, Marisa ran the cold water beneath her hands and splashed it against her heated skin, feeling the icy streams drip down her shirt and matting the fabric in her haste. She didn't care. She scrubbed vigorously with her hands, unable to see and not needing to either way. Finally she splashed the water over her face and groped for a fresh dish towel to wipe her face with. The thought of using something other than an actual face cloth sickened her but she had nothing else. She made a mental note to spend an extra hour in the shower after Cara was done. But even the cleansing didn't work, she still felt set on edge and too fidgety to stay seated. Grabbing a thick jacket, she checked for her keys and wallet before escaping into the cold air outside, inhaling deeply as she shut the door behind her. It wasn't often she felt the urge to drink herself to oblivion, and never so early in the day, believing that alcohol was never the answer for frustration but sometimes she didn't want an answer. Shoving her hands into her warm pockets, Marisa made her way to the cluster of clubs usually fraught with action only in the evening. She decided she would go to the library first before hitting any of the bars.