A Perfectly Normal Morning

Annoyingly on time, her alarm cut through the final words of her dream, setting her mind scrambling for consciousness even as her body reflexively reached for the button to turn the damn thing off. She slapped her hand against the nightstand before giving up, opening one watery eye to find the offending piece of technology and firmly telling it to kindly shut the fuck up with the palm of her hand. Grabbing her flip phone from it’s spot next to the alarm and rolling back over, Donovan allowed herself another moment to close her eyes, chasing after the memory of a too-kind dream of a too-kind smile and too-kind words. She scrubbed at her wet cheeks, annoyed that she had been crying in her sleep yet again.
 
Looking down at the ghost plushie still curled in her one arm, she gave it a lop-sided smile, “Well, nothing will change if I just lay here crying and feeling sorry for myself, will it, Sage?”
 
Saying she’ll get up and actually getting herself up from the coziness of her bed was another matter entirely, and it was a struggle of wills that Donovan eventually conquered, swinging her hoofs onto the rug beside her bed and rising. Pressing her fingers to her lips, then to the frame on her nightstand, Donovan whispered a quick morning prayer to Bahamut, a sense of calm running over her. The rugs at least managed to muffle the sounds of her hooves as she made her way to her tiny coffee pot, preparing the grounds and water as she always did and setting it up to start the day right with at least one cup of coffee. A quick trip to the bathroom as she checked through her emails on her tiny flip phone screen showed nothing of note, aside from an email from Aktho sent at the ungodly hour of 3AM, telling her about another stack of records he had managed to find locked in some abandoned part of the temple that no one has touched for decades, along with an offer of making her a “super veggie smoothie” to help her get all those nutrients he claims she’s lacking in her normal diet. Shooting off what was supposed to be a quick response that she would get to the records and that she did not need a smoothie would have taken her a couple of seconds on any other phone, but the painstaking way she had to cycle through the letters to spell each word made her feel like she was back in high school.
 
Response sent and bathroom matters taken care of, it was a short trip into her closet to pick out her workout gear, sliding the material on with a wrinkled nose and a note to herself to do laundry soon. Coffee ready by the time she reentered the living space of her apartment, she poured it into one of her two mugs and began chugging, the scalding liquid sliding down her throat more soothing than she cared to admit. Then she turned to the curtained windows and sighed. Even after all this time, her heart rate picked up without her consent as she opened the curtains, the weak light of dawn barely illuminating anything. Reflexively her eyes scanned the street before her, taking note of all the places where shadows lingered before Donovan allowed herself to breathe again and let go of her amulet.
 
“Nothing’s there. Never is,” Donovan murmurs to no one. But still, the mix of relief and disappointment she feels is all too real.
 
Donovan grabbed a cigarette and lighter before hauling the window open and leaning out, sticking the cigarette between her lips and holding the small flame to the end of it. The first inhale of nicotine in the morning was always the best, and she breathed in deep, feeling the smoke fill her lungs and keeping it there for a moment before releasing it into the air of Dead End. Watching the swirls of smoke drift into nothingness, she forced herself to think of nothing aside from the present. She was alive and here, and that was enough. It really wasn’t, but maybe if she told herself it was enough times she would start to believe it.
 
Too soon her cigarette was done, Donovan extinguishing it with a bit of water from the tap before throwing the butt in the trash. She chugged a glass of water and quickly brushed her teeth, hoping that would get rid of the taste of the cigarette from her mouth. No putting off her morning jog any longer, though she did pause by the door, carefully tucking her dagger into the waistband of her running shorts while grabbing her zune and ear buds. Dead End may be slightly safer than NYC, but that wasn’t saying much at all. Her eyes met her own in the mirror near the door, glancing at the amulet laying against her breasts before hiding it under her sports bra. Then with a quick peek outside the peephole to confirm the empty hallway, she walked out of her apartment and pushed the door closed behind her. Even if the space was liminal, Donovan could not stop the instinct to check to make sure it was locked.
 
With a deep breath and a straightening of her shoulders, she walked out of her apartment building, eyes once again glancing at all of the dark spots she memorized months ago. Thankfully, there was a shortcut to her favorite park nearby, and she enjoyed the relative peace and quiet of the early morning despite the number of people on the streets. Donovan knew there was an even shorter route to the park, but even after a couple of months are various people showing her how to use the lay lines to get around, she preferred to get a bit of a walk in before her run.
 
Her stretches to warm up once she got to the park caught the eye of an antlered fae passing by, and Donovan couldn’t help but wink at the attractive fae as they dragged their eyes over her, interest piqued, but not enough to stop their own jog. Not for the first time, she silently cursed that she had missed out on the Beltane festivities. Then stopped, trying to think of the last time she got laid in a wonder of why the hell one fae ogling her made her think of such things. Ah, yup, that time at the bar and then the hotel afterward… Damn good times. She might have to go out again and see if she could get lucky a second time. Another face passed through her mind, and not the one with those piercing eyes from that hookup, and it was like an ice bath to her hormones. Nope. She was good. But damn, what a night.
 
Jogging along the dirt path to avoid the shock of cobblestones to her joints, Donovan frowned in disappointment when she passed by the usual spots where Amor would sit on their bench or practice with their staff. It had been a while since they hadn’t come to the park, but maybe they had stayed up late to work on an experiment again. They did mention something about being close to a breakthrough the other day… She might try to stop by and check on them later if she had a chance to make sure they weren’t face first in some herbs or potion. Then again, Ray might get to them first.
 
Gods - Bahamut - those two. Had she ever been that oblivious once?
 
Maybe. But she didn’t want to think about that right now, not when there was fire and air in her lungs and dirt under her hooves. ‘Keep moving forward, Donny love’. Perhaps if she repeated that enough times, she’d be able to do that too. Again, easier said than done.
 
Soon there was more fire than air in her, though, and she forced herself into a walk, hands on her hips as she panted to try and get more oxygen into her starving body and stop her legs from shaking. A couple concerned joggers passed by her, glancing back, but Donovan waved them on as she fought to catch her breath and continue on. Almost as devastating as anything else the past two years had done to her was the condition of her body. Once a finely honed weapon, now reduced to a weak mess that could barely run for longer than a couple of minutes even after months of endurance training. It was shameful, and she could only imagine the expressions on their faces if they saw how weak she was now.
 
Keep moving forward. That was enough. And she had promised to Dr. Weber to not push herself.
 
Well, too hard, at least.
 
Donovan finished her jog, wishing she could turn the Jimi Hendrix playing on her zune all the way up without worry to drown out her thoughts. But sadly, we was an attractive woman jogging on her own, and her own instincts being raised in a big city would always win over the desire to destroy her hearing. Soaked in sweat, she took the liminal path to her apartment, carefully glancing at those dark spots before even approaching the building and once more before entering.
 
The hot water of her shower helped to wash away any unpleasant thoughts, forcing herself to think only positive things, try to be kind to herself, all those things Aruniel and Aktho had tried to tell her when she was first recovering. And despite everything, the scent of her orchid body wash always managed to calm her down. Even better was the fluffy towel she wrapped herself in as she carefully stepped out of the shower and her beauty routine of drying and straightening her curls, shaping her bangs just so around her horns. The various oils she used on her hair, horns, and skin a small pampering she allowed herself. The red lipstick was almost second nature by now, the mascara even easier to apply.
 
With her beauty routine done, she went to her closet, throwing the towel in with the dirty laundry that she really should do soon and went to grab her standard clothing. Donovan paused, hand on the black suit jacket, before glancing at one of the suits Dame had gifted her. She’d only worn the perfectly tailored pinstripe jacket and corseted skirt once, trying it on for Rend’s sister to make sure it fit and if any adjustments would have to be made for the clothing line. There weren’t nearly as many pockets, but… Fuck it. Might as well go over the top, she always got looks on the street as it was.
 
She definitely did make a cutting figure in the mirror, quickly opting from her usual braids for a single slicked-back ponytail, before teasing her fringe back out to make her look a little less like she was about to take part in a sexist perfume ad. Sighing at herself as she turned to check out the way the cut of the jacket and skirt showed off the curve of her ass and tail, she had to admit that Dame definitely knew what she was doing. If only she had someone to take naughty pictures for…
 
“Ah yes, nothing like ass pictures taken on a shitty flip phone to oil those gears,” she mumbled to no one but herself. “Holy fuck, Flynrie, skipping a couple of steps before we can get to sending nudes to anyone. Calm your horny self down.” Oh, how she missed her old phone and its camera. So many possibilities.
 
A final longing sigh at the mirror, and she grabbed all of her essentials, stuffing them into her pockets and then her bra when her pockets filled up. Her salami sandwich in hand, she once more checked the hallway before leaving her apartment. Another tense moment as she exited the building, scanning before letting out a semi-constricted breath.
 
It was just another, perfectly normal morning, for a perfectly normal cleric receptionist.
 
At least, that’s what she told herself.