Joss Salvage || Badr al-Budur (sultana) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2011-01-12 20:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | joss salvage, michelle kingston |
Who: Joss Salvage and Michelle Kingston
When: This morning
Where: Joss' flat in NYC
What: A very easy 'you're-a-reincarnate' breakage. Not.
Rating: PG-13 for Joss being a delightfully immature brat. Or you know, perverse.
Waking up with a headache that ripped her head apart wasn't unusual. Joss didn't even bother to open her eyes. She remained curled up on the floor - beside the couch she should have fallen asleep on but probably didn't with how her back was feeling. The blanket she'd pulled over herself didn't cover her toes and they wiggled - ripped, her tights hadn't held up. No real warmth. Ugh. Why'd she run away to New York City again? She should have gone to Jamaica.
The where's that? that came next didn't faze Joss. She'd had a few, random occasions with other voices prior. 'Somewhere warm' she thought sleepily, before snuggling closer into the floor. Her head kept pounding, until the voice spoke up again. It started to go on, about the palace, and father, and what she was doing until Joss wondered if this was a crapsack dream.
She grimaced, pushed herself off the floor and wobbled her way over to the bathroom. She caught sight of a piece of paper on a table along the way. She didn't bother to read it, guessing it was the exact same one from the day before and the one before that. "Hey Joss, you were crashed again. Didn't want to wake you. See you later," she muttered. Something along those lines. She made it to the sink, hunching over the porcelain. "No, we don't care about you. At all."
Done whining?
She grimaced and wiped at her face with her arm. Maybe that was why she was cold - not bothered to put on anything more then a wifebeater over a cami last night. Mascara streaks went on her arm and she stared at it for a long moment, before hearing a sound near the main room. Huh. Her roommates shouldn't have been back this early. She gave one last look at her reflection - make-up smeared, clothing rumpled, skirt riding up in the back, hair half-up in a pony tail - before she nodded. Quite good for the part she wanted to make. She slipped out, managing a croaked, "Hello?" That better not have been someone in the hallway only.