Caleigh Lightbreeze

A Reason to Nap...

Caleigh sat in the corner of her room, a collection of metal gears and screws littering the ground around her feet. Another clock to be made. A quiet, but frustrated expression remained on her face as she tried to shove two of the gears in place. It was rounding four in the morning, and she had forgone fishing to stop at the Troupe show earlier in the evening and attempt to be social. It was close enough, and she'd heard good things- it was worth a look. Finding Orli, Saeil, and Meli there was a bonus, regardless of whether or not she upset Meli.

She'd spent most of the show quietly gritting her teeth. There were certainly talented writers and amazingly wonderful actors- but the topic of choice hit a bit close to home for the woman. A play on the indiscriminate salacious nature of Silvermoon, it was elaborate- but there were certain lines that echoed in her mind late into the night. That poor Pandaren was more relatable than she likely intended to be.

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There were moments where she had considered not returning to Silvermoon, selling the Clinic- the office...leaving and staying gone. The North was alright... but she'd found herself in the same pattern there after a time. Walk the shore for shells, clean the crab boxes, walk to the village and check on the remaining oil victims, walk out to the camp- fill out paperwork, send squads out for patrol, return to her tent. Stare at the wall of her tent, close her eyes long enough to catch a fifteen minute nap, go to the oil yards- maintain the gears on the equipment. Eat lunch. Go to the shore, check for drifted animals caught in the trash, walk through the woods- check for new traps. Find a tree, lean on it. Nap standing. It would be dark by then, first watch. Dinner, something from the village. Return to the tent, work on her gears. Fish. Drink. Nap.

Her chest ached, looking around the room. Was her life that different now? Had she really changed anything beyond the location? She still worked, napped- drank. There was no reason to sleep longer than necessary. Saturdays were usually the day that she turned in any way, shut off her comm- closed her room, crashed in her bed. Her body couldn't sustain napping for that long without a crash day. It was also the only day of the week that she gave herself to really feel her sister's loss. And in her sleep, she couldn't hide from it. Kay was always there, a fever dream- anxiety manifest in a dream that kept her tied to the bed. It had been years since her twin sister passed, but on those days- you couldn't tell, it was still very much fresh in her sleep and she still very much suffered. 

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The woman stuck two gears together, stared at them for a long moment and exhaled. She set the gears to the ground beside her, pushing herself to a stand. Walking to the desk, she gathered her tackle box and the pole that was leaning on the wall. Despite the fact that she was still dressed in her gown from the performance earlier, she'd make her way to the docks. Find some fish, fill a bucket, fill her stomach- and fill the time between sleep.

Maybe she could skip the crash this time.