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

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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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[info]brain_ninja
2009-02-08 09:08 pm UTC (link)
Laura said it was the most powerful emotions that she could remember in her death. Andy knew anger was powerful, so that made sense. He wondered if envy, jealousy, and elation were amongst the few in her memory. Andy didn't have the balls to ask her. At least she said he hadn't offended her. He'd have felt badly; really badly.

He smirked lazily around the cigarette when she put it between his lips. "Monkeyfuck," he said with appreciation, the clove bouncing lightly up and down as he spoke. "Nice." He took a drag and held it in his lungs for a minute, relishing the only slightly unfamiliar burn of it there. It felt different from the pot, but it was kind of a nice jolt. "Thanks," he said, exhaling the smoke with his words.

Pinching the cigarette between his lips as he moved his hands over her skin, he watched her face. He must be doing something right, because she'd closed her eyes. Or he could be doing something really wrong because she'd frozen in place and wasn't talking anymore. It wasn't a nice feeling, touching her. She was clammy and kind of sticky all the while being cold. It didn't feel like anything Andy knew, he just knew it was unpleasant. It was also the least he could do. "You okay...?" he asked softly, not really wanting to disturb her if she was trying to relax and soak in the heat, but also not wanting to be on the receiving end of a slap in the face for misinterpreting something. His hands slid back up and he had to make an effort to resist the urge to pull away again and wipe them clean on his ever-present hoodie. That'd just be fucking rude.

Gently, Andy moved his hands to her neck and cupped both sides of her face at her jaw. Her skin wasn't warming to his touch that he could tell, but his hands were starting to react to the cold. He wouldn't be a very good heat conductor in a few minutes, he didn't think.

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[info]spitandviolets
2009-02-08 09:36 pm UTC (link)
"You can stop," she said after a long and somewhat awkward silence. "It's okay. I can feel you flinching, even the slightest bit, and your pulse is irregular. It's okay, Andy. You don't have to."

Laura's eyes opened, and she gently took hold of his wrist. If she were able, she'd probably shed a single tear. That last motion had hit her hard, him holding her face like that. It was Shadow, pure and simple. Andy was too much like him. They were both rough around the edges, incredibly so. They both liked to open mouth and insert foot. They both had terrible luck with women; Shadow had only been with two or three girls once he'd gotten to Laura, in opposition with her...much larger experience pool. They were both scruffy looking; they were both oddballs in the world of men. They weren't the stereotypical guy. There was something both wonderfully and revoltingly sympathetic and sentimental about them. They both, also, seemed to have a heart of gold, and they liked to stay committed to whatever they were doing, even if they hated it.

The worst part for Laura, about this realization, was that she knew she would miss Andy when he was gone, away from her, in the same way that she missed Shadow when he was away from her. The revulsion that Andy was showing, the awkwardness, it was Shadow's. Shadow had only touched her because she had been his wife. He had felt obligated to touch her, to show her kindness. It had been the worst hug of her entire existence because there was love, pain, disgust, and sadness. So why was Andy feeling obligated?

Getting up, the dark haired woman made her way to the sofa. She stretched out on it, tucking her feet under the cushion, and smiled over at him as best she could. "I love cloves," she said, sighing and exhaling smoke at the same time. "They almost taste like something. And it does help me relieve stress a little bit."

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