SCENE: Good Morning, Big Apple!
Siobhan went to bed after her gig and slipped into unconsciousness. What was very difficult to know was if she actually slept during that time or if she died since every evening was filled with strange visions. Some horrific some sublime, but all so terribly intense. And she awoke after a scant few hours every single night, or day, whenever she decided to try to rest herself, to slough off the dirt and grime of the day.
When the sun came up she was sitting in bed reading. Tonight it had been Augustine in the original Latin, anything to understand the nature of her, well she wasn't certain if soul was the right word if she had one to begin with. Maybe she wasn't a soul trapped in flesh and never had been, maybe she was flesh and soul merged together and she would never be able to fully pass over. Maybe tomorrow's Aquinas would give some answers, if not she would be moving to the Golden Age of Islam as she moved around the world and through time. Although, for those she would need translations, her schooling had included the classics and a few others but nothing like Arabic or Farsi. At least her being over-educated had come in handy. Or maybe it was hurting her since she knew what ancient scholars to read and how to properly interpret philosophy and it was slowly driving her mad. Although, it certainly wasn't helping to mitigate her desire for vengeance and the idea that she turn the other cheek was utterly ridiculous when it came to the man responsible for her death, her friends' death.
As the sun finally filtered through the sheers covering her window of the fifth story walk-up in Manhattan that she used to share with her friend it felt so empty. Memories haunted her nearly as much as her strange dreams. She stumbled across the room and ground her coffee. She had gotten this new French press recently, some invention from Europe that she found some small enjoyment in the mornings. It was also strong enough that she actually felt a little pep from it.
After the coffee was the rote showering and a bit more makeup to make herself seem alive. Her pallor generally like that of the dead she covered it enough to make herself look a bit more normal. Wearing a dress in pale blue, no need to wear anything dark she left the house only to return to grab a coat. It wasn't terribly thick but wouldn't look mad since she couldn't seem to feel the cold. Or, more specifically, extremes didn't bother her in any way anymore. Soon she was out and headed toward the park, several books in her bag.