Coming to the end of myself...

((OOC: Intended as a solo one-shot, introducing some of her power-development... but feel free to join her if you wanna. Timewise this is some time after the raid on Sanctuary. ))

He’s been asleep for what feels like a very long time, dreaming endless dreams of floating on a raft in still waters, with no mainland in sight. When he finally wakes up, he doesn’t recognize the room he’s in… a cheap hotel room, that much is obvious, but he has no recollection of where he is or how he got there.

Musta been some party.

The last thing he remembers clearly is being at the gym, shaking some little Hispanic girl’s hand. Then it gets hazy… vague dream-images of a golden door and an incredibly hot chick wearing practically nothing, nightmare images of a huge red-skinned monster and a woman with the face of a cat, nothing coherent.

His body feels strangely weak as he climbs out of bed and stumbles to the bathroom in the dark. Have I been sick? Maybe I –

He doesn’t quite scream when he flips the lightswitch on and looks in the bathroom mirror to see a face that isn’t his. But when he looks down at his body to realize it isn’t his, either – that he’s somehow stuck in a girl’s body – well, he screams then, for just a moment, before he disappears altogether.

Sonya wakes up with the echoes of her own scream bouncing off the tiles. It takes her a moment to realize she’s standing in the hotel’s bathroom, rather than asleep in its bed. Great, she thinks. Sleepwalking again. Just what I need.

The morning sun is already starting to shine through the curtains, so she decides she might as well start her day. A much-needed shower later, she puts her bodysuit back on and holsters her guns before getting dressed in street clothes.

She’s almost started taking the garment for granted, but it’s still creepy the way it clings to her skin. At first she’d thought it was just form-fitting elastic, but it isn’t, really… it doesn’t bind anywhere, it just alters itself to fit her body, no matter what body she’s wearing at the time. Convenient, but… creepy.

She hadn’t even given that feature much thought until after the raid on Sanctuary, when she’d discovered a pair of concealed holsters in the garment that she had never noticed before. Which seemed altogether too convenient, given that she’d just acquired two guns. One of these days I’ve got to find out where this thing came from. The thought slides into habitual oblivion almost as soon as she thinks it, altogether too closely attached to the question of where Sonya’s new body came from to be comfortably examined. She makes sure the suit isn’t visible through her clothes and leaves the room.

The maid in the hallway gives her a disapproving frown, and she remembers belatedly that she’d been in Teresa’s body when she’d come in last night. Oops. She blushes slightly when she realizes what the maid must think, then shakes her head and strides proudly down the hallway, nose in the air. What do I care what she thinks?

Breakfast isn’t much – cheap pastries and bad coffee and milk and cereal and bagels – but it’s included in the price of the room, and Sonya has learned to eat when she can. The money she stole from that cop was good for another couple of days, at most.

Well, maybe by then Sanctuary will re-open.