InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Ca ne se fait pas!"

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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brain_ninja
2009-02-08 11:11 pm UTC (link)

Andy could tell by the wave that she didn't believe him and he deflated a little. He genuinely wanted to want to touch her. He wanted to be able to make her feel better and oppositely reciprocate the pleasant cold she'd given him when he'd had the pounding headache upon reaching her room. He couldn't help it that the feel of her skin was unexpected and not at all pleasant, but he wanted to be able to push that away. She was a nice girl and she deserved to be treated like one. Andy just wasn't sure he could be the one to do it, no matter how badly he wanted to.

She went on talking about the cloves and for a moment, the awkwardness dissipated. It felt like any random conversation Andy had ever had with anyone else. Maybe she was still more human than she was giving herself credit for, he thought but didn't say.

"No," he replied honestly. What was the point of leaving? He was starting to get a little tired, yeah, but he'd just end up in an empty bed, mulling over the bullshit with Rose, anyway and that'd keep him up. Then there was also the journal...he could spend hours awake on that thing reading everyone's entries and commenting on them...well, he would've, anyway, if he was in the mood to be more social. Not tonight, though, maybe. Tonight, he'd just end up laying in an empty bed, staring at the disco ball on the ceiling, however sad and lifeless it looked with no lights to reflect off it. "Where would I go? Back to my room to mope? I'd rather stay with you. You're keeping my mind off things," he admitted. "But, like I said. I don't want to overstay my welcome."

He looked back at her when her eyes flickered to him and he gave her a small, sad smile. "That's gotta be rough," he said gently. "I've started to feel like days are bleeding together, myself, but...all the time? That sucks," he commiserated. He paused and shifted himself into a more comfortable position in the chair, lowering himself off the arm of it now that she was no longer perched on the opposite one. "I'm sorry, you know, if, like...I made you uncomfortable before," he finally said. "I was just trying to help."

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spitandviolets
2009-02-09 12:11 am UTC (link)

"My door's always open, and I made the invitation. You're always welcome to come here, whether I'm here or not. I'm usually not gone long, especially during the day. Or the night. I'm not a very social creature, I don't think. It's too hard to keep up appearances. I don't care to lie about what I am, and people generally don't take it too well. When I was back home, I pretty much lived in the woods and moved in the shadows. Sure, I would stop for days at a time and do absolutely nothing, just sit and stare, but it was better than having to deal with human beings. Very closed minded, from what I've seen. But I really don't prefer gods. Not at all. Bastards, all of them."

She would have laughed if he'd called her a nice girl. She was not a nice girl. She had died giving head to her best friend's husband. Nice girls didn't do things like that. Nice girls didn't cheat on their husbands. Nice girls, generally speaking, did nice things, not the kinds of things that Laura Moon had done. It was very possible, though, that she didn't realize how human she still was. It was hard to pin down what made a human, well, human. It wasn't in the physical, that she could certify, and it wasn't wholly emotional, or spiritual, or mental. It was an odd blending of all of the above, and you lost just enough to make you not a person when you died. That was how Laura felt.

It made her glad that he'd rather be there with her, even if she couldn't have his warmth, and even if he thought she was gross, like a science fair project. Helping in some small way was the best that she could do. "I'm good at that. My mind tends to wander now and then. I'm not usually a woman of many words, but I like that I can distract you. Conversations about absolutely nothing important are my specialty. They always have been. I used to converse with the people in the coffee shop back home for hours. It was always interesting. I like people. I always have. You're all so interesting, with all your different histories and opinions. And you remind me of someone, Andy, someone who was the most interesting person I ever met. That intrigues me. Even when you're talking about nothing, you're interesting."

"If you do feel tired, feel free to take the bed. Like I told you, I don't sleep. I don't really care if scandalous rumors start flying about me. You're welcome to sleep here whenever you want, and I'll do my best to have Mirage conjure you up a teddy bear or something." She couldn't deny that she wondered what it would be like, snuggling a sleeping person, feeling their warmth. It seemed odd, especially since she didn't sleep. Wow, she thought, I've really gone peculiar.

Looking up at him, shrugging, she tossed her hair a little. "I get a lot done. I've taken up sudoku, though I hated them in life, and I do crosswords. There's a few computer games I like to play. Solitaire never really gets old. I wish I liked to read more. Maybe I'll try picking that up. And try not to worry about it. I don't get uncomfortable. I react only to your discomfort. Nothing bothers me, so I have to go off of what bothers you." She thought about elaborating but then thought better of it.

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