Sign of the Times

Ascending Air, R.Y. 768

Opal awoke into a groggy haze, risen by the sunlight pouring into the Window. It was nearly Zenith. The Grass Spider had gauzy recollections of the previous evening; empty bottles and half-snorted lines scattered about her dining table provided clues as to the direction the evening had taken. Even more telling was the small form nestled under her right arm, slumbering heavily. After blinking her eyes into focus, she carefully slipped her arm out from under Naru's unconscious form and pushed herself into a sitting position. Leaning back on her elbows, she surveyed the mess the two had made of her living quarters with a detached amusement. Apparently Naru's advances were not futile; Opal's insides still ached as she pushed the sheets aside and climbed out of bed. She stood with a monumental stretch, accompanied by a muted groan. She let her limbs hang loosely, relaxing for a moment before snatching the blue, flowered kimono that had been tossed over her nightstand. Opal wrapped the kimono around herself and walked to the fireplace, holding the back of her hand a few inches away from the tea kettle hung over the fireplace. Judging it to be sufficiently warm, she filled a mug with the hot water and tossed a handful of tea leaves in.