InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Oh, you poor doomed child."

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.

(Read comments) - (Post a new comment)

brain_ninja
2009-02-09 01:30 am UTC (link)

With a smile, Andy nodded. "I dunno how comfortable I'd be just barging in here when you're not around, but...thank you," he replied. She was saying that humans tended to be closed-minded. Andy had to agree completely. "It's kind of gross how closed-minded we are, sometimes," he said with a roll of his eyes. "It really is. I like to think of myself as pretty open-minded, myself. I'll give anything a try once and anyone a chance once, you know? Because what's the point, otherwise? If I surround myself with people like me, I might as well just be alone. Variety is the spice of life and all that shit," he added.

When Andy thought about it, he thought maybe he'd proved himself open-minded. He'd been scared shitless of her once she'd explained what she really was and still, he'd had it in himself to stick around and give her a chance. She was something entirely unrecognizable to him, and he'd still tried to give her a chance. He'd done a shitty job of it, obviously, but he'd tried. If he thought she'd let him, he'd try again, because she wasn't bad...just different.

"I'm big on conversations about nothing when I'm high. Like, really really into them when I'm high. But, any other time, I think they're good for getting to know someone. Because, really, small talk is a joke. No one listens to anyone else when there's small talk. 'So what do you do?' 'Well, I...' and then we tune out. It's human nature, I think, to be a little bit self-absorbed, but when you're talking about nothing...there's no pressure to remember what's being said, so I think it's easier to listen. Fuck, does that even make sense? You'd think I'd be able to string together a coherent sentence now that I'm sobering up, but apparently not..." he laughed, wrinkling his nose in self-annoyance while scratching the back of his head.

She offered him her bed and Andy thought maybe he saw a chance at fixing his mistake. "I don't really need a teddy bear, but thanks," he said with a smirk. The smirk fell away and he looked back at her, giving a small shrug so as not to look specifically overzealous. "It's your bed. We can share or I can go back to my room...it's no big deal, either way," he said as casually as he could manage. Maybe she didn't necessarily need to touch him to feel the warmth; he hadn't thought to ask. If she didn't, then she could share the bed with him and still feel the body heat without having to feel him involuntarily recoil. Win-win situation, that, too...he wouldn't have to sleep alone and turn over the events of the day in his mind all night and she'd be able to keep warm. If she was cool with it, he was. But, he certainly wasn't going to push if she said no, because, well...he'd learned his lesson about pushing his luck already here on Mirage.

At the end of her response to his apology, Andy frowned. "You don't bother me, Laura," he said softly and he meant it. She didn't. The feel of her skin didn't bother him...it just wasn't something he was used to and although he had no idea whether or not he ever would be, he felt "bothered" was the wrong word to describe how he felt. Uncomfortable was probably better. Awkward, uncertain, curious; those all fit, but Andy didn't think "bothered" did at all.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

spitandviolets
2009-02-09 09:27 am UTC (link)

"I'm not sure I entirely mind how closed minded human beings are. I think it's nice. If you're set in your ways, then so many more things come as a shock. When you don't expect anything, when you don't have any preferences or standards, things become a bit difficult." The cigarette was burning dangerously low; it was almost down to her fingers. It was as if Laura didn't even notice. "If you think about it, even your preference for being open-minded is a little bit closed-minded, don't you think? If you found the perfect group of friends, would you go about shunning them for people that you may or may not like? You humans, it's hard for you to ever find a comfortable place to exist. I think that's why I like watching you so much. You're unique in that. Every other creature seems to have a niche. It's just you. You don't accept your place in the order of things, and none of you seem to want to try. I mean, how many of you even know what that place is? I've heard arguments from many different perspectives on what it should be. Some say you should fight the gods. Some say you should prostrate yourself in front of them and worship, hoping that they might show some mercy. Others go so far as to say that there are no gods. If there aren't gods, what is there? Are you all alone and existing without a purpose in the universe? Human theory is positively absurd once you come down to it. It's like you all try to isolate yourselves, try to make live in this universe, in any universe, as difficult as possible. As humanly possible. I mean, have you ever stopped to think how sad that lot is?"

"Small talk isn't necessarily a joke. If it is, then it isn't very funny. I think that's what proves I'm not human anymore. I don't tune people out. Then again, when you've experienced the eternal silence, I think that you're willing to listen to just about anyone in earnest. People say more interesting things when they think that no one's listening. They think that what's being said will not be remembered. In turn, they are more free with their speaking. I think it's when you're alone that you say the most interesting things. It's hard to be interesting on the spot. For example, if I turned to you and said 'Andy, be interesting,' what would you say to me? What would you try to do? But when we start off a conversation with something like 'how was your day?' or 'what are you up to?' it's entirely up to the other person to decide where that conversation is going. That's when you can learn an awful lot about people."

The cigarette was all the way down, and there was the faint smell of burning flesh. She kept her vision on him, completely ignorant of the fact that she was being seared. Crossing her legs, Laura studied him carefully, shrugging with a faint smile. It was a ghostly hint of a smile. She paused. What would it be like to be a ghost? That was what dead women thought of. Would it be better than this, or would it be worse? She imagined that they wouldn't have the bodily problems or the illusion that they were still human. They were just ether. She was a meat sack.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

spitandviolets
2009-02-09 09:27 am UTC (link)

Smirking at his comment, Laura shrugged. "Suit yourself. I know that some people like teddy bears. I was wondering if you were one of them. But I'm not sure why we would need to share. I just told you that I don't sleep. What are we going to do? Get into bed together, you drift off, and I stare all night? Because that's not creepy or anything." Shaking her head, she shrugged, mildly amused by that thought. "But, if you really want me to cuddle with, that's fine. I'll be sure to wear as much clothing as possible. Maybe the planet is hiding a pair of pajamas around here or something. Who knows? Just let me know when you're ready to go to bed and I will get you all tucked in, snug as a bug."

She still wasn't convinced that he wasn't bothered by her. Still, he looked so young, so earnest. The fact that he had added her name, had addressed her directly, lent some credibility to his remark. She didn't bother him. That was nice to know. She was still a source of discomfort, and if that wasn't bothersome, Laura didn't know what was. Still, she'd let it drop. There was no point rehashing the same thing over and over. Why did Andy seem like such an honest, genuine person? It was strange, and a little alarming. Not many people were good, or honest, or trustworthy, or true. Fake people were fine, but it was the real ones that you had to watch out for. Real people had the capacity to hurt and be hurt. Shadow had been a real person, and look what she'd done to him. "Be careful," she said absently, her eyes studying their shadows dancing on the wall. She meant it, but she hadn't meant to say it out loud. Care was all the precaution one could take against pain, against sorrow, against losing touch with reality.

(Reply to this) (Parent)

(Read comments) -