this wasn't her scene by a mite; too many bodies that bumped into her own and faces she catalogued unwillingly — her brain might've been broken, but in other ways it made her a savant. he'd convinced her to step between the boundaries of heaven and hell. to leave her sanctuary that was also a cage, only to step out into untrodden waters. that one little word ringing in her mind while jazz played in the background of it : compromise. she was compromising for a man that couldn't even admit he liked her. sienna was starting to not recognize herself. when she looked in the mirror, she would see her sister looking right back. too easily bending the knee to appease; crumbling because she craved warmth rather than cold dejection. shit— was he up next or had he already gone? she thought to herself, allowing noise of bar to fill her senses once again and murky hues searched for him after she'd been left by her lonesome at the bar. she was blonde now. one bleach and dye job in a motel room and she looked like she fit right in; even traded her humble attire for something more.. city-like. red leather mini skirt that was hanging on by the grace of god for if she bent over or squatted, her black thong beneath fishnets would show her shaven crotch to hundreds. pair it with an extremely cut white tank that accentuated her perky breasts and sienna looked like a grunge prostitute. that was what she wanted though, to look dirty and like she'd step on someone if they said anything stupid to her — yet f*ckable. taking hard drag from cigarette that a stranger had given her, the femme exhaled smoke when she finally saw him.
