Welcome to Gaia! ::

The door creaked open with the light force of the knocks, having been carelessly closed and left unlocked out of of pure apathy.

It revealed a room dark except for a small desk light which illuminated the large room's clutter in harsh shadows, adding to the neglected feeling that hung in the air. Clothing was tossed into a wide pile by the door, giving off the effect of an exploded rainbow.

While it appeared that Tourma had been living solely in her room for the past several days, there was no evidence of meal leftovers anywhere. An empty bottle of something, vodka presumably, stuck out from under the bed skirts.

The bed appeared as though it had not been used for sleeping recently, and was not only crisply made, but covered in previously folded t-shirts. They had been tossed there while the room's owner had searched for one in particular.

Amidst the small light and around the other side of her bed came the sounds of a deep, but troubled, person sleeping.

There, in the nook created by her bed and the wall, laid Tourmaline. She was wearing what looked like an older, man's t-shirt, and it seemed to swallow her curled up form. In her arms a stuffed animal that looked as if it hadn't seen this sort of loving in years resided comfortably.

Her hair looked a limp mess, but was pulled back in a less than beautiful braid. Presumably in attempts to keep it out of her face, which had failed, since bright strands of hair had taken it upon themselves to escape and cover the Skullmonkey's sleeping features. Her tail curled around her protectively, like a pink and green shield of fur, and she looked more like a helpless animal than a person in that position.

All around her handwritten letters were scattered. Their envelopes ranged from simple white paper to colorful, hand painted designs. They weren't artistic, but the love put into them shined from each brush or pen stroke. The open letters, handwritten in the same range of colors and styles, were more concentrated to where the teen could reach.

Underneath the letters a photo album lay open to pages of a younger her, bright and happy, with her family. Photos of Isto and her working on his bike and of her and Slush cooking in the kitchen.

Amongst all the photographs that were obviously of Tourma, stood out a series of photographs of a young girl playing in the snow with a young man. Though the surroundings appeared very Victorian, including the people in the background, the young girl immediately stood out in her multitude of colors and modern clothing. However, instead of the usual pink and green hair blowing in the breeze, the young girl had brown hair to match the young man's.

Her eyes, however, were a stunning aqua, and a spitting image of the man throwing snowballs at her. In fact, the pair were Isto and Tourma (with Slush behind the camera), only they were tail-less, metal-less, and in an entirely different time. A time when Tourma had been naive and blissfully happy.

A time she couldn't return to no matter how hard she tried.

Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes snapped open in a panic, as if awaking from a nightmare. His whisper of her name caused her to methodically glance over at him, brow furrowing in a mixture of confusion and fear.

"Ken?" She croaked hoarsely.

This had to be a dream. Part of the nightmare. Ken and Ray had left days ago and were gone.

Flesh or dream, seeing the image of Ken in the harsh lighting brought back the flood of pain she had been trying to bottle up for however long it had been. She was hurt and ashamed. Her tail tightened around her as she hugged the stuffed animal to her chest as if it were her only lifeline to sanity.

Tears welled up in her eyes, which she snapped shut in attempts to purge the creeping memories from her mind. Her head spun in the effort, and she moaned softly in discomfort. She was exhausted, as her tanks had been running on empty for the past several days.

"You left." Tourma told herself firmly, willing her thoughts to leave her in peace. "You left..." When she repeated it, she sounded less sure of herself and much quieter.

Then, barely above a whisper, "No more nightmares..."

His questions fell on deaf ears as her exhaustion won out and she fell back into her restless sleep.

The heat of his body seemed to relax her somewhat, and her grip of her tail released as her breathing deepened. Or maybe it was the familiar smell that coaxed her to lean against him.

Subconsciously (at least), Tourma appeared to be glad that Ken was back and staying with her. Who knew how she'd react when she finally woke up, however.

It wasn't the light that stirred her from her sleep, but the fact that her arm and shoulder had painfully fallen asleep. This occurrence had been frequent ever since she had taken to sleeping on the floor for fear of breaking another bed, and it was as she moved to roll over and rectify the situation that she noticed she was not, in fact, alone on the floor.

Again, her eyes opened, but this time they lagged and squinted in the lamp light, which poked uncomfortably at her dehydration headache. Groaning, she forced herself to shake the dust off her mind and attempt to register the situation, or rather, the person she was curled up against.

At first, she thought she had once again 'awakened' while still dreaming, but the throb of her shoulder told her otherwise.

With her eyes finally focused enough to gander a look up at her person pillow, Tourma found it harder to believe that this was reality. She searched her memory for Ken coming home, but failed to think of anything other than nightmares and cynical daydreams. In an awkward, arm-still-asleep motion, she pulled herself out of his warmth and struggled into a sitting position while she stared.

Tentatively, she leaned forward to poke Ken in the side, pulling back immediately like a fearful child. She hadn't noticed her breathing pick up speed, but then again, her mind still wavered in the in between of sleep and awake.

"Ken?" She asked, unsure still of the situation.

His movement startled her, and she yelped sharply and attempted to push herself further from the magically appearing Ken. This motion was followed by a thunk of covered metal on covered metal and a whimpered curse.

When Tourma stopped seeing stars, she pointed at him and frowned. "Where did you come from?" She demanded through tears of what she would claim to be pain from her throbbing head.

Note? She stared at him blankly, a feeling of horrible dread falling down on her. If he had left her a note, then he hadn't fled the premises after her fat a** broke the bed. And if he hadn't done that, then that had been at least one thing she shouldn't have beat herself up over.

"What note...?" Tourma asked quietly, bracing herself for the answer.

She watched in apprehension as he got up and began the veritable excavation. The sound of crinkling paper, if possible, dropped her heart lower into the guilty abyss in her chest.

With a shaking hand, she took the note from his hand and read it. There was a long silence, until she finally found her voice. "I thought you had left," she breathed, keeping her eyes down. Right now, she couldn't look bring herself to look up at him.