Momoko / Amatsu-Mikaboshi [天津甕星] (obakemono) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2010-08-16 23:33:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | inari, mikaboshi |
karma police take two
Who: Mo and Lukas.
What: Light being thrown on the shadow of a long forgotten memory.
Where: The diner where Mo works.
When: Evening.
Warnings: Hmmm... tbd.
To the pink-wearing marionette who dangled along languidly around the diner and its few typically plaid and trucker hatted patrons--her movements confluent as smoke and yet somehow substantial--the world was coated in a dead volcanic dust. Everyone wore a crown of soot, a cemetery decoration, and to be respectably admired one would have to shower themselves free of ash. Display themselves as chiffon and feathery. Indolent as she was, the undertaking to seem livid and lightsome was never took. The world was shadowy to her and blurred, color had the richness of lead-based Victorian greeting cards, but it was underneath a layer of filth. She hated the world. It was dark where the promise of light still burned the back of her eyelids sometimes when she was alone. It was a scam.
Yet, to function in society, she had to feign an interest and enthusiasm in coming to work and in being a functioning member of society in the first place. She had to put on her black eyeliner to the perfect point, coralista her cheeks, and chapstick her lips. She had to make money to get by because the cold, hard alternative was unthinkable and unmentionable. She'd lived in so many different ways in one life, that pretending to be normal was beginning to appear like the truth. Acknowledging that however was pointedly avoided.
"So what kinda music you listen to, Mo?" The freckled one asked, full of happiness and curiosity. Mo, who was walking around differently than others in how she carried herself, more sure, more fluidly, seemed as if she didn't care where she ended up no matter where she strolled. Like life was one big game of chance and if she lost, oh well! Game over. This intrigued the redhead who had never in her life met such a predatory stalk. "Like, rap or rock or like, Lady Gaga?"
After putting a few plates into the sink, considering her answer, Mo replied: "All music."
"So like, you would like oldies and stuff, too?"
"Sure." Her smile seemed genuine.
"That's cool!"
It was then that she'd taken note of the new customer, and although she loathed the routine was thankful for the interruption of the very exciting conversation; she also knew it was her turn. Smoothing out her annoying uniform, the revenant haunted over to him emptily.
"Anything to drink?" Inquired the shade.