Momoko / Amatsu-Mikaboshi [天津甕星] (obakemono) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2010-08-25 13:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | ares, mikaboshi |
Who: Mo & Samuel.
What: The moon corpse drank to oblivion without a care, and stumbling through the door, the God of War is there. Ooops. And he's a copish? Great.
Where: Lobby.
When: Way late.
Warnings: None yet?
The days trickled and bled into the same pile until they expanded into a swell of sweltering, hot wounds and festering damp disdain. If an event went her way or was inclined to momentarily, it would coldly pale in the humid face of adversity and hotly turn an ugly sour. The hardly whole or virginal milk of her addled mind still was somehow able to curdle and transmute into crumbles. A ruined city full of the skeletal remains of flowers, her imaginings were horrible nightmares and wretched dreamscapes. No color. Life was bleak. Life was long and alone and she was beginning to enjoy misery like an addict; because somehow sadness felt good as much as wrath did. Oh, and wrath. How enlivening it was. How it colored her cheeks lividly. How it made her think less and focus on nothing but a decaying inner world barely able to cling to what was left of good.
She didn't want to think.
Hours to avoid walking home were noted so as not to run into any familiar, ghostly faces in the halls which she was not sure yet how to handle. She'd thought about what to do all night, all morning, all day, and all night again until she decided to clean the bar out down the street of its hard liqueur. When Mo drank, she drank to oblivion. Making oblivion swirling and sweet, sinister and delicious. She drank to unabashed excess without a thought. She drank until she was no longer hinged, here, or there. Until she didn't know up from down. Until the stars gathered in a chorus for the void and the moon licked away an invisible cloak of dried up tears.
A man was guiding her to the door, some tall long-haired nobody, and when he let her go she fell into a corner by the door. She completely ignored any of his advances, as he seemed to have said something, as she pushed through the lobby door, teetering on her boots like a kitten learning the laciness of its paws. Mo managed to stumble into one of the mail boxes, before sliding, or rather falling onto the tile floor like a clipped marionette. The man outside left.
When she looked up at who towered over her, as she turned around onto her back, she slurred: "Konbanwa, o jama shimas'"
And giggled.