→ @prophetice “ did someone say yoga? ”
internal bruises from last night were beginning to catch up with her in the early hours of the morning, demanding her attention as she padded around the spacious floor of her new york city penthouse, lightfooted and bare-soled. a soft groan trembling past pressed lips as she stretches to reach a mug from the shelf. a mental note taken to leave at least one within arm's reach for the days where work was particularly challenging. limbering up had always been just as ritualistic as it had been essential, a necessary step of preparation before the curtains are drawn and her body exerts itself to enervation, pushing that burning exhaustion to the back and taking another hit of adrenaline drawn from the rush and exhiliration that came with severing a man's femoral artery. the job however was last minute, and was a painful reminder as to why she had blacklisted this particular employer in the first place. but when the hunger pangs, she has no choice but to satisfy that appetite of hers.
the chime of drivers being pushed up and setting the springs within her lock into place prick her ears, and automation drives her hand towards the knife block sat atop marble counter. but as the words travel inward, the familiar voice suffocates the fire licking at the nape of her neck. darya distinctly remembers the words borrow and emergency only being used in conversation regarding clarke having a key of her own, but weariness brushes the light annoyance off of her tongue.
“ rain check? ” expressions once practiced are now put into play, brows curling upwards to beg for sympathy as clarke comes into view through the doorframe. another mug is reached for, this time any noises of protest are forcefully muted. it joins her own besides the coffee machine, and it purrs to life as she thumbs the on button. “ i didn't sleep too well. ” didn't sleep much at all.