<span style="color: #4000FF">She always felt so drained, after every show. Being what someone else craved, needed, took a lot out of her. Slumping into her chair, a tired face stared back at her in the mirror before her. Eyes seeming lackluster in comparison to what they once had been. Her vibrant red hair seemed to dull. Her luminescent skin had paled, seeming less vibrant than it had under the harsh lights on the stage, thrown off with the subtle hue of the candle light.<br/><br/>The lights on her vanity flickered, some going out, causing the room to go darker as she slipped from her heels, their stilettos crashing to the floor as they dropped from her feet. Black silk whispered off behind it as it too dropped to the floor. Stepping out of the now cooled fabric, she padded over to her screen, walking behind it to slide on her black shorts, snapping the clasp. A tank top soon followed, the crimson of it setting her hair aflame. Her feet found her sandals next, picking up the heap of clothing off the floor and hanging it in the closet next to her other dresses.<br/><br/>A coat was draped over her shoulders, as she headed from her dressing room, recalling the night's events. The air had seemed tenser somehow, like a blanket had settled over her, and each movement had taken all the more effort to produce. Nothing had changed. She'd done her routine, connected with every person in the place on some level. Each had been under her spell, entranced by her song, her movements, the light in her eyes.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Spell...</span> she thought to herself. <span style="font-style: italic">Funny wording...</span><br/><br/>As she didn't know she was half-siren, she'd never understood why people had flocked to her, fallen for her inexplicably. It was something she'd never fully grasped, but had learned to harness as the years went by. Earning a living was never really hard for her as all she had to do was bat her eyelashes and speak in a melodic fashion. Yet, she'd never been happy. Here, she could make a fortune a night simply by singing a couple songs. Suitors galore, she had her pick of men throwing themselves at her, single or otherwise.<br/><br/>She never went for it though. Never felt like it was right, having someone want you because they felt compelled to.<br/><br/>Yawning, she made her way up the back steps to the stage, pausing to look over the empty seats before her. It was calming at this time of night, to just stare at the empty club, take in the silence, the emotion caught up within its walls.<br/><br/>Nex was completely lost on her as she stepped off the stage, weaving through the tables absentmindedly. It was a path she took every night, could do in her sleep. <br/><br/>Again, something was amiss.<br/><br/>A misstep.<br/><br/>Something caught at her foot and sent her tumbling over.<br/><br/>Her purse flew across the room, scattering its contents across the floor...but not before it hit something in the back. Embarrassment sprang to her cheeks instantly, heating them with a color to match her hair. Hands hit the floor at the same time as one knee, the other leg far out behind her from where she'd originally tripped. <br/><br/>A sharp intake of breath, followed by a low-uttered expletive, she rolled over, assessing her knee as the purse and its contents lay forgotten on the cold tile floor. "....Definitely going to have a lovely bruise in the morning..."</span>