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Laura Moon (spitandviolets) wrote in mirage_rpg,
@ 2009-02-05 16:23:00

Entry tags:

andy gallagher, complete, day 31, laura moon

Who: Laura Moon and Andy Gallagher
What: Insomnia!
When: Day 31, very late night
Where: Laura's room, C112.
Rating: PG-13 for language and gory details
Status: Complete

If there was one thing that Mirage already knew about Laura, it was that she no longer had any concept of or any care for the concept of time. It had not supplied the undead woman with a clock. It didn't matter. When the sun was down, Laura was active and the rest of the world was not. When the sun was up, well, sometimes she didn't have a choice, and others she debated with herself as to whether or not she should be doing something. Thus, it was very dark, and possibly late or early.

Laura did not remember her own wake and funeral very well. She was not there, exactly. It was a distant memory, like watching herself from across the room. She remembered when her best friend spat on her face, and she remembered the violets. She also remembered the pose in which she'd been put to rest. At the moment, she was practicing it on her bed, bored, as usual, and cold, as usual. Her body was rigid, laying on her back on the plush, black coverlet, arms crossed over her chest, hands folded. Since she did not need to breathe, she was not breathing. Her eyes were closed but she did not sleep. Her hair was fanned out around her. Only the outfit, a pair of jeans and a black tanktop, which made her look even paler than usual, was out of place for a wake.

Having just retired from her computer, she was expecting Andy. When he would arrive, however, was uncertain. Drunk people ran on their own schedule. When she got drunk, when she was alive, she drank a lot. That, in fact, had been the death of her. Literally. Maybe she'd try to brighten Andy's mood with that story. The likelihood that he wanted to hear about her death, however, was probably not high. L was unique in that respect. Still, maybe she'd have another friend, someone else who wouldn't mind that she was dead and cold.

Focusing on the movements of the lights of humans, she managed to zero in on Andy's with only minor difficulty. Rising from the bed as a zombie from the grave, Laura sauntered to the door, opening it just as her guest arrived. She said nothing, holding the door open for him, dark eyes studying his face.

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spitandviolets
2009-02-08 07:12 pm UTC (link)

"Well, you shouldn't worry about it. You're not there, you're here. You're not me, you're you. You are alive, Andy. You are a living, breathing, human person, and you get all of the entitlements and repercussions that go along with that fact. Everybody dies. If there is one thing that I know as the absolute truth, the one thing that I can tell you with one hundred percent clarity and certainty, it's that every single human being dies. Nobody wants it to be them. Nobody wants it to be now. You were in a situation of pure and certain death. You were, apparently, a gladiator on the field of battle with no chance of survival. You have received what some people wait their whole lives for and never get, Andy. You got to cheat death." There was a slight pause. "Do you think that I got to cheat death? The way I look at it, existing like this, I'm not cheating anybody out of anything. The reaper has taken his toll on me. I'm dead. You're alive. You need to make the most of it. Every single second is a gift. It's possible that you'll never have to go back, possible that you could stay here forever. So stop thinking about the whatevers and the maybes and the possibles. Who cares what Sam saw? Who cares about the details? You could be dead, but you are alive. And you're warm. And you're making a dead woman jealous."

Laura was usually an incredibly sympathetic character. She found it hard at times, however, to properly place her pity behind certain people and situations. This was one of those moments. From where she was standing, Andy was absolutely privileged. Nobody had stepped in to save her while her head was in Robbie's lap. No random, lonely-ass planet had intervened on her behalf. He was damn lucky! She shook her head some.

"Give me a minute," she said, her voice icy. Making her way to a drawer in her dresser, Laura slid it open and pulled out a pack of clove cigarettes and a zippo lighter. She put one of the death sticks in her mouth and lit it up. "Can I offer you one?" It would be rude not to, and it didn't seem likely that she'd ever run out. There was a drawer full of them, and enough lighter fluid to keep her lit for years. At least that part was comfortable. She made her way back to him and set the lighter and cigarettes down on the coffee table.

Taking a seat on the arm of his chair, Laura smoked with one hand and absently stroked his forehead with the other. Her fingers brushed over his skin and through his hair. She allowed her nails to lightly rub at his forehead, tracing small lines across the flesh. A long drag of the cigarette was taken into her lungs, and she held it for a moment. Deep in thought, she exhaled it slowly, careful to turn away from him in case he was sensitive about that sort of thing. L didn't much like her smoking.

"All I have to do is touch you to feel your warmth. I'm never really warm myself, but touching a living person sure helps. It's like being wrapped in a really nice blanket, or snuggling with someone on a snowy day in front of a fireplace, or cuddling naked and sharing body heat after sex. Does that make sense?" She chuckled and exhaled the last bit of smoke in a ring. "No, I don't suppose that it does. Suffice to say that touching you makes me feel something. And whatever it makes me feel is better than empty and alone. It's nice, and the best way I can describe it is warm."

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