Welcome to Gaia! ::

Light filtered in through the translucent curtains, casting a turquoise light upon her room -- that is, Erik and Danica's room. It was decorated with muted blues and browns, the walls covered in swirling patterns no more than a month old. Danica had always been all about her projects; knitting sweaters and painted walls, custom made furniture and googly eyes glued to everything in sight.

The smell of food (something tangy and smokey-- cooking on the grill?) wafted into the room, the soft sizzling and pops of a frying pan barely audible through the cracked door. That would be Erik the redhead realized with another languid smile. After all, his place on the bed was cool and undisturbed, leaving Clerise's back exposed. Late to sleep and early to rise, as always.

It was with no sudden amount of realization that she, Clerise Nicole Wilson, aged twenty one, was completely comfortable here.

What an odd feeling to have, belonging. Really and truly, for who she was rather than for what she could do for someone.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Clerise murmured, (voice husky with sleep, tinged with amusement) smoothing brown curls back from Danica's forehead, calloused fingers sliding along pale skin, down a bare shoulder and further.

Danica crooned back a greeting in Serbian, propping herself up on her elbows. She pressed cupid's bow lips to Clerise's. Strong and sturdy limbs fit wonderfully against petite, and Clerise thought she tasted sweetness on Danica's lips (orange tic tacs and sunshine), and found her mouth warm and yielding.

Slim fingers tangled in red locks, pulling back to expose Clerise's throat, teeth tracing the outline of a bruise from the night before, the mark larger than her own mouth.

(A soft sound emitted, hushed breaths, amateur and shy all over again, every time, no matter how many repeats they shared--)

Clerise could hear footsteps on the stairs, the heat of grey eyes boring into the back of her neck as she made out with Erik's wife.

The ribs would burn, but there was more in the fridge.

Together, in that room of blended beige and teal, she felt whole. Dark and scary pushed aside, into a tiny compartmentalized corner of a mind to be opened at a later date like Pandora's Box. Sorrow and grief of a cobbled together childhood falling away like dirt caked to skin under a warm summer rain. Anxiety and unsure touches met with guidance, three people taking pleasure of each other in tandem.

He was rough and sure footed, and kissed with a fervor Clerise would remember for years to come. Stubble against her skin as he pressed close to her, holding her so still so she could and would not fidget--

And she.

She was the sun and the moon together, brilliant and honeyed and everything more. Brilliant jade eyes that twinkled with mischievous knowledge, singing sweet praises to her in Serbian.

English was second language to them both, but her more than him. Erik repeated her words that she rattled off so fast, filthy and sweet all at once, Clerise's golden skin (tanned and luxurious, freckles across her cheeks and neck and shoulders from sun exposure, bright days without a cloud) flushing dark red with excitement and eagerness unmatched.

A lazy, sunkissed morning with kisses and affection and attention of the best variety would melt into a brisk winter day, messily eating baby back ribs (the second batch) on the porch, the electric heater on under the table outside, a glass of wine in every hand.

Clerise took her leave in the evening, promising to visit again soon the next time her troupe had downtime.

Erik did not ask to see her again, so she did not intrude. There was no taking comfort in each other, to share the grief. There were no phone calls across thousands of miles to cope.

He was but a broken shell, reeling from the loss of a woman so bright her insides burnt her from the inside, a sudden supernova and then her life was snuffed out.

Just like that.