She rolls over in white sheets and fluffed pillows. It had been years since she had slept in a bed not made of straw filled sheets and crafted from the man two houses down. Fingers slip against the soft fur of her companion, but his snore informs her she hasn't yet woken from his slumber. Cautiously, Aleksandra withdraws her hand, daintily, avoiding his paws now sticking too close to her.

Sneaking to the bathroom of a hotel room in pitch black isn't easy, especially for a woman unfamiliar with the typical layout. A bed in the far side of the room, a tv stand directly across, two night stands (one placed on either side of the mattress), and tile floor where the bathroom and main entrance begins, always side by side.

Her toes tickle as she stands on tile floor. Hands gliding against the cream wall and grazing the door frame. Quietly, her hands push the door to a silent close, almost positive she hears Oleg snoring on the other side.

Her reflection isn't ideal currently, but the fiery witch knows that she has always been a natural beauty. Living in a small town with "Olga's" surrounding the campsite was enough to make her stand out. Her name was lofty, her hair a vibrant shade of red, her eyes an enhanced emerald pigment, and her skin a cliché snow white. She has a little bit of bags, but nothing overwhelming. Nothing compared to the bags she sported back at camp. She came from a very poor area. And unfortunately, was forced to live with straw bedding and a stove for a heater.

Unlike this hotel that supported hot air all night, and a warm bed with millions of layers of covers.

Her hands run under the cool tap, watching the water pool in her palms before splashing her face. It occurs to her that her mother always tsked at the thought of abusing the availability of water. But here, it is different. Here she can run the tap for years and still live to see another day of water. It is different in this country. In this city.

Sometimes there was the suspicion her mother, Helinda, became so irritable with her daughter because of what she had done to her sister. Certainly father held a grudge. It wasn't her fault though. The child was a curse. A nightmare. Easily considered a mistake. Guess you could say they had it coming.

"Zey hahd eet coming, zey only hahd heem-zelf to blame," she sings at a whisper, her accent thick but her voice still angelic none the less. The old musical song just suiting for her day dreaming.

Stop singing.

His voice is thick, and masculine. His frustration evident in his tone. Aleksandra only smirks at his protest. Oh, zee poor kitt-eh, though she doesn't speak after, only lets her jungle cat fall back into his snooze.

Her makeup is a process, one she hates to endure. It starts with foundation, and then moves onto bronzers and blush. And then the fun part, enhancement. Her eyebrows had always been her strongest feature, with a thick but shaped brow, magazine worthy none the less. Then moved on to her second most recognized asset, her emerald green eyes with a suffocating unique colour to their name. And finally, her thicker lips. She always lined her top lip so her bottom didn't seem so much larger, a pet peeve of her own, and then she would dab on some mascara and consider herself done. After all, makeup had at first started out only on occasion.

Oleg, pull zee covars over your heed, she smirks before flicking on the light in the hotel room to search for clothing. A grumble shows his disproval, but she just waves her fingers in his face.

You picked that? The jaguar sighs as he yawns. By that, he refers to her black leather jacket fitted to her lack of curves, and her ripped jeans. Not the neatest or most unique, but definitely most trendy. Since leaving the poor country, Aleksandra had gotten a taste for price tags.

Up you geet you bag goof, iz time for valk," and she swings open her hotel door.

The enter the streets and Aleksandra adjusts her knee black high boots. Oleg is already off out of reach. He cannot leave her bound, not without both of them experiencing an out of this world pain, but he can go far enough that he can stalk his own prey and still be within sight of his partner. Aleksandra decides it best to just linger on the sidewalk, and let him do his thing.

As he stalks left, she parallels him by the sidewalk. She occasionally glances back at him when her eyes aren't distracted by neon lights and beautiful carved welcome signs. Her frame stops outside a weaponry, debating her long for something a little more inspiring, but she cannot leave Olegs sight, and he clearly has caught himself something. So she stands outside the weaponry, its open sign glowing in her peripheral, watching as her companion enjoys his morning breakfast.