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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
2009-02-09 10:47 pm UTC (link)
Somehow, whether she meant it or not, Andy felt a little condescended by her remark about the clique and the way she said he hoped that they stayed true. "Yana's new," he said, feeling the need to defend himself, "but Sam's for sure. I knew him back home. He saved my life...and Tracy's. And lots of people, but...he's for sure." Well, it had started out as a vehement defense and had ended with his sureness faltering only under her gaze, his voice softening with the awkwardness of his statement.

He shifted uncomfortably when she made the point that he was calling himself a freak in the presence of the living dead. She had a point. "I call myself a freak because normal people can't do shit like that. Normal people wouldn't." His mind shifted back to Webber.

I see you... Webber had said, looking into the woods with a smirk. Looking right at Dean. Bye bye...

Andy closed his eyes, flinching as he heard the sound of the trigger and the echo of the gunshot in the night richocheting through his memory; the only time he'd ever touched a gun and he'd killed someone. Someone he'd counted as a friend... God, if anyone should have trust issues, it should be Andy, he thought miserably.

He took a deep breath and pushed it away. That was the past and it was over. Webber was an even bigger freak than Andy was. He'd done the right thing, in the end. As much as he hated knowing that he'd, in the grand scheme, sunk to Webber's level by killing him, he'd saved Tracy's life. And Dean's. Maybe even Sam's, although he figured that could be considered paying back the favor.

When he opened his eyes again, Laura was saying that he should go back to his room. Frowning slightly, Andy nodded. This had been a stupid idea, anyway. Who had he been kidding? He should've gone to bed and slept it off, rather than taking up this woman's time, even if she said time didn't matter. She didn't know him and he didn't know her. All he'd managed to do was make himself out to be a bigger jerk than he actually was. Andrew Gallagher, Freak Extraordinare; King of Word Vomit. "Yeah, maybe. I'll wake up disoriented because I drank half Illyana's weight in Jack Daniels, Laura," he muttered, standing. "Doesn't matter where I sleep, I'll still have the hangover from hell. Thanks for helping me pass some time. Sorry I wasn't terribly good company," he added, looking back at her.

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[info]spitandviolets
2009-02-10 12:52 am UTC (link)
With breakneck speed Laura was across the room. Her icy hand wrapped firmly around his wrist. The woman had quite the grip. Dark eyes staring into his face, Laura tried her best to stare him down. Considering that she didn't need to blink, she was probably winning. "Hey," she said, her voice serious, "don't be like that, Andy. I didn't mean it in that way. You're taking all of it wrong, and I'd like to believe that it's the booze talking. I'm insensitive and incapable of realizing the impact my words will have, but I have never been and will never be that much of a bitch. You kept saying that maybe you should leave. I am quite literal. If you wanted me to disagree with you, I didn't get that. It sounded to me that you were trying to convince yourself to go. If you want to go, go ahead. I'm not going to stop you. I am going to try to stop you from walking out that door before you know my intentions. I am here for you, and I didn't mean to insult you. I wasn't telling you to get out. I'd be agreeable to your staying. I would prefer it."

That stare was intense. It may have been dead, but someone staring that long always meant something serious. She couldn't believe how difficult he was being. She wasn't angry at him, but he was being difficult. Pathetic could be cute and endearing, but his self pity had crossed a line. And he was jumping to outrageous conclusions about her. Laura really didn't have enough emotions to experience all of the things that he was imposing upon her. That was the trouble with being a blank slate that was open to interpretation. She had to wonder how some abstract painters felt.

Realizing that she was still holding his wrist, and that he probably didn't like it, Laura let go of Andy. She stood there, still staring for a moment, but her gaze eventually moved off of him, focusing on something off to the side. Just what she was looking at, however, she wasn't quite sure. Things weren't going well. Mirage was bound to be just as bad as Earth, if not worse. Here, everyone would know that she was dead and that she was around. They'd be able to find her, if they wanted, or avoid her completely, if they wanted. It was like being teased and taunted, the proverbial horse with a carrot suspended in front of its face. She'd keep running, trying to find human warmth and companionship, keep trying to find some reason for her to exist in this world that didn't need her. She'd come up short. People didn't need her protection, and they certainly didn't need her help. Reluctantly, she turned away from him. Unsure of where to go, Laura moved to stand in front of her desk, fingers lightly gripping at the wood. It splintered faintly under the pressure.

"You were good company. I'm a shitty host. Regardless, I hope you'll think to pass some insomniac hours here. Or other types of hours. My door is always open."

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