Drowning. That was the word that strikes against the woman's struggling mind. It was as though she was stuck in the middle of an angry ocean, in the middle of who the fuck knows where. Dark and furious waters rose and fell in gargantuan waves crowned with a froth of white foam and they would reach for the equally vengeful heavens above, their roars like booming thunder across a blackened sky. They came crashing over Lenore, threatening to pull her down and into the icy cold and seemingly endless belly of the sea, only the strangest and most haunting of marine life knowing whether or not the bottom was hundreds of miles below or perhaps even thousands. No one would ever find her, left to wonder where she might have gone or if she might never come back. She would cry out for help, and yet even her own voice at its highest pitch would be swallowed by the storm that ravaged the world around her, like a whisper torn away from one's lips and lost to in the wind, those desperate pleas for salvation never to be touch the ears of another. Kerim, Reiko... they would turn the streets upside down in hopes of finding her, the petite asian witch girl fretting frightfully as she would look to the vampire man for assurance that everything would be alright, that they would find their missing friend alive and well. Her parents and older sister, they would be blowing up her phone, frantic to get ahold of her when she failed to answer their first fifty phone calls and text messages. And yet, they would all be far too late. She would be lost forevermore, never again able to feel the warmth of the sun on her face or the wind in long, thick locks of rich dark cocoa... She would fade away, those final thoughts wondering how much she would be missed, how many tears would be shed from mournful eyes as they tossed those beautiful white roses into the arms of the ocean when finally they would find the remains the raft she's so foolishly braved the untamed mistress of the world upon. What words of goodbye would they have to say to rememeber her by? Maybe... just maybe, those words really would carry across the plains for the woman to hear and feel one last time before she was consumed by the unforgiving sea of... yes, boxes. Also, yes, she was clearly exaggerating the number of said carboard containers left to unpack.

Just.... one.... more.... Molten mocha eyes are locked upon that single nail held up to the drywall between her slender thumb and index finger. She was the epitome of concentration, lips taut as she holds that hammer in the other hand. Aiming it so very carefully, rebellious and long hair pulled back into a ponytail high upon her head, she doesn't so much as dare to think of blinking dark lashes over her gaze, viciously determined to not only avoid hitting her finger for then fifth time but also have it finally be perfectly even and aligned with the other one about a foot away. Standing there on the far-right cushion of her white couch against the wall to her one bedroom townhouse where the heart of downtown boomed just outside that bay window through which the overcast afternoon daylight filtered into the small living area still occupied by several unpacked boxes. She almost doesnt breathe for fear that doing so would move her hand holding the nail and just outright fucking everything up. She's already put several holes in the cream-colored paint from previous failed attempted, if this wasn't the winning moment, then she could not be held responsible for the swearing likely to follow. It had to be even with the other three, or else it would like messed up, and while she wasn't the exact definition of OCD or a perfectionist, it was minute things like this that she could notice which would drive her to the point of insanity. And then, she brings that tooo down to strike against the small piece of metal, driving it into the wall after a few well aimed strikes. Except for the last swing, which of course finds her thumb and sends a wave of pain through her nerves and right to her brain, registering every single second of pain. Jerking her hand away reflexively, a small hiss rips through gritted teeth."FUCK! God dammit!", she nearly snarls furiously at no one in particular as she shakes her hand like it would make her thumb stop hurting. EVERY. FUCKING. TIME. Stepping down from the couch, clenching and unflinching her hand while moving turning to set that forsaken hammer on the coffee table no longer bearing the weight of the several boxes Lenore was finally able to empty and break down. The pain is much quicker to ebb away than the frustration so tearing at the woman as she reaches for the final panel of wall art meant to hang alongside the others to complete the tranquil lake scene painted upon otherwise stark canvas. There is almost a sense of anticipation as she steps back up onto the cushion with panel in hand, placing it on the wall so that the nail catches the small brass hook in the back. When it's secured, she takes a single finger and presses ever so slightly against the frame to shift it ever so slightly to the right until at last it seems straight. The question now was if it was hanging level with the others, and gods help her should it be too high or too low.

Again, the woman steps down from the couch, socked feet touching down on the marbles area rug draped over the dark cherry hardwood flooring. Careful not to trip herself with the coffee table placed in the center of the living area, she maneuvers back a few paces, eyes narrowed and hands resting on each side of her hips, she examines her work only to feel the faintest sensations of satisfaction. It was as close to perfect as it was going to get. Heaving a sigh, she looks over to the bar where her golden conure companion sits contentedly on the back of a chair pushed against the granite countertop. Dark eyes are squinted closed, brilliant golden feathers fluffed and ruffled as Meeko grinds his pale beak softly in sheer contentment."What do you think? It looks good, right?", she asks the medium-sized parrot, as though he would have some sort of opinion on something so... human. At the presence of her voice, he perks up then, dark eyes opening and attentive for a moment as he tilts his head curiously to Lenore before offering a small squawk that sound perhaps almost like a cross between a growl and a grunt. Flicking emerald painted wings, the bird returns to his previous state of relaxation, clearly offering no sort of criticism. And yet, it was somehow enough to coax a ghost of a smile almost devilish in nature to her lips."Yeah. I think it's perfect, too", she replies then to her own question that was really more or less rhetorical in the first place. However, that moment of fickle pleasure is gone as molten chocolate eyes look around to see the scattered boxes still untouched. God, this just didn't seem to end! Sure, it had been only a handful of days since she'd moved to this new city, but the packing had been infinitely faster than the unpacking process seemed to be. A fresh wave of frustration overwhelms any previous traces of contentment that had existed only moments ago, the dark-haired woman reaches up and ripping out the hair tie that had been keeping her hair out of her eyes, running slender fingers through thick curls as rich dark cocoa cascaded down and over her shoulders, before settling around her waist. She needed a break, some fresh air. All this unpacking shit was going to be the end of her if she didn't. With her mind made up, she doesn't bother thinking to change out of her dark blue jeans and plain powder blue v-neck. It wasn't like she planned on trying to meet people or running into any cute guys. Turning to grab her phone, keys, and small wallet from the coffee table and out of Meeko's occasionally destructive beak, she shoves these items into her front pockets. She walks over to the bar, Meeko awakening from his light doze and regarding Lenore, eyes closing blissfully as she strokes his head gently."I'm gonna go for a bit. Be good, okay? Don't give me a reason to start needing to put you in your cage whenever I leave", she croons, one of the very rare times when there was a softness that could be seen in the dark-haired woman.

With that, and a quiet chirp from Meeko, Lenore climbs down the steps and departs from her townhouse. Swiftly locking the door behind her and returning the clinking metal back to her pocket, she turns to face the city. Lingering there for a moment, the woman simply takes it all in. Her gaze travels over the people walking in each side of the traffic-ridden streets, each seeming entirely absorbed in the own little world. Cars honked when drivers were either too slow to go when the lights turned green or if they simply weren't paying attention. Breathing a sigh, her senses adjust to everything she's had little time to truly explore. Until now. Maybe looking around would help alleviate the restlessness, which would in turn help her not to become so easily agitated. The last thing she wants is to start making enemies with complete strangers. So, wordlessly and with her hands tucked into her pockets, she steps onto the sidewalk and lets the flow of strangers guide her through the various streets and crosswalks, mocha hues touching on all they could. And then, as she's crossed the intersection of 1st and 20th Avenue, she catches the tantalizing scent of baked goods. She has yet to taste any of the locally made foods Sacrosanct was surely hiding from Lenore for the time being, and so when the sweet and rich aromas wrap around her, she can hardly keep herself from quickening her pace to the shop named "The Bakery". How... original and oddly unique. Opening the door and stepping inside, the small bells on the handle jingling to announce her arrival, Lenore is greeted by a sight which very nearly has her drooling. Even when it was clear that the glas display was nowhere near as full as it likely had been this morning, still the treats within look amazing. But, it was the New York style cheesecake that snags her attention away from anything and everything else. For a moment, anyway. It is when another woman with hair dyed an exotic variety of colors steps unknowingly between Lenore and her New York style cheesecake that the dark-haired woman notices her. Yes, she had been that honed in on the baked goods that she hadn't even realized she wasn't the only one inside, though there is no sheepishness or embarrassment that flickers across the woman's expressions as she studies the stranger who was obviously contemplating what to order."Tough choice, huh?", she says then, flashing a faint and half-hearted smile. Sure, she would have easily asked the other woman if she was either ready or if she could go before her should she truly need to inspect everything within that case, but she doesn't. Then again, Lenore always had a knack for knowing exactly what it was she wanted. She could have just as easily cut in line and gone ahead, too, but instead she chooses to try her hand at being somewhat friendly... or something close to it. Usually she seems to come off as neutral or just generally disinterested, neither rude nor warm and fuzzy. Lenore had never been the greatest at "warm and fuzzy". But, in the end, it was the woman with rainbow hair who would draw her own assumptions, and part of Lenore was mildly curious to see just what those might be.