elektra natchios (skyblack) wrote in crownplazaic, @ 2021-09-06 12:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, elektra natchios, ravi chakrabarti |
Who: Elektra and Ravi
Where: The greenhouse
When: Tuesday 7, close to but before midnight
What: Lost and found
Status: Complete
Warnings: Gore, character death, zombies
Pale moonlight winked between colorful buds, furled tight at this hour, drooping vines hanging sadly from the rafters, and the fronds of palm trees that would never see the outside of this greenhouse. One watery ray reflected off a shallow pool and bounced this way and that, shivering with every sluggish drip from the forgotten hose. Someone must’ve been in here earlier gardening. Then again, earlier might have been a long time ago, for all that Elektra could spot the signs of human intervention. She wasn’t sure who tended the plants now that Geralt was gone and she didn’t particularly care. She hadn’t come to encroach on anyone’s territory. At this hour, she should’ve been in bed, sleeping like her roommate. Well, maybe not like Tom. The guy was on his way to being buried alive by all the pillows he’d borrowed or stolen from fuck only knew where. Elektra had too much dignity to suffer the same fate. So when sleep proved elusive - too much like lying in a cold sarcophagus, wrapped in silk and tasting blood in the back of her mouth - she wandered. Sometimes she had a purpose, most of the time she didn’t. Tonight, she had decided she would find her stolen lighter if it killed her. Word had it that when people left the hotel they took their possessions with them. But the lighter wasn’t Geralt’s. It wasn’t hers, either. For all she knew, it belonged to the hotel. And maybe, just maybe, Geralt had left it in here somewhere. Elektra had already searched the racks of gardening tools, the shelves containing soil and fertilizer, the packets of seeds that would probably never sprout. Nothing so far. Under the tables and inside the chunky stone planters she found only dirt and weeds, a few worms who seemed none too pleased to be disturbed. She ran her fingers beneath the lip of every table, along grooves in the floor and dents in the windows, all of which seemed to be rusted shut. At this rate, she’d still be looking for it come morning. Annoyance ate at her, but for once she didn’t feel like tearing up her surroundings in retribution. Why bother? They’d just be magically put to rights come morning. New plan: she’d try tailing the pretty apothecary chick again. Or maybe she’d find a way to convince one of the magicians to track down her lighter. They could do that, couldn’t they? Or she could try to steal another. Yeah, that worked. With one foot on the threshold, Elektra turned and shot one baleful look at the moonlit greenhouse. That was when she saw it. The plastic lighter - her plastic lighter - sitting out in the open, all cheap and red, and how had she missed it before? Did it even matter? Elektra rushed forward without a second thought. She didn’t notice the hose snaking along the ground, not until it rolled beneath the sole of her boot. Her foot slipped from under her. The greenhouse tilted. The ground rushed up to meet her. Normally agile and in perfect control of her body, Elektra turned in midair and braced her fall with her left arm. She did it successfully; she just did it a split second too late. Just as her muscles tensed to gentle her landing, the back of her head met the lip of a moss-dappled planter. Bone splintered. A smear of red on green. Sharp pain exploded behind Elektra’s eyes and then, as abruptly as the sensation had come, there was nothing at all. |