Lucy Cramwell (fanged_lucy) wrote in v_nocturne_rpg, @ 2009-06-23 21:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | lucy cramwell |
Lucy And Her Moral Compass
Lucy Cramwell remembered the first time she had done this...
Just like then, the plate of food sitting in front of her served exactly the same purpose. Namely, a strange sort of nothingness. At first, the girl had put it down to frightful shock, knowing that, to eat something, anything, was preferable, lest she go mad with the sheer oddity of it all. She could chew, swallow and, by heaven, taste it in such detail as she had never imagined before, but for all that, it lacked the nutritional qualities her body craved. The contents left her empty, unfulfilled. Still hungry. Still thirsty - the downing of water having just as little effect on such desires, regardless of its cleansing nature.
The learning process had been steep and tricky, but given time, she learned.
The central enigma of her situation, though, that refused to change. Those blank little mouthfuls taken while still unsure of why the world seemed so very difference. Yes, she remembered those. Now that time had passed, Lucy was trying again. This time, adopting a more experimental approach. Mister Reynolds had been fond of his science... She could picture him looking down upon her newest attempt with pen and paper in hand, ready to record the results.
Lucy had gone back there, to the house. Once. It unsettled her. Too many scrambled thoughts and sensations. Had almost taken up enough courage to venture down into the basement, after retrieving a precious few of her belongings, but upon catching sight of that dreaded stain on the floor... It had stolen her resolve away. Had not even thought to encounter it, until then. Did not want to remember herself laying there, her very life ebbing away with each new beat of heart.
But such things were behind her now. At least, for the moment. Her room at this inn gave her a measure of privacy, although it was difficult to ignore the sounds from under her feet, now so clear to her ears that they might as well be sharing the same living space.
'Living'... A term she had come to realise there was sufficient reason to question, these days.
Sliding out chair, Lucy took her place at the small table. Perhaps, with this being soup, her new... Diet... Would find it more accommodating. In either case, there was no harm in trying and, remembering the previous intake had not caused her any apparent sickness, beyond that which she already suffered from, drew some into her spoon, leaned over and transferred the contents into mouth. Eyes flickered in the darkness, glancing over to the candle she had placed there. Lucy contemplating how enriched and yet... Unsatisfying... Yes, even unappealing, the substance now seemed. Not sickly, just...
It gave nowhere near what was experienced when she swallowed from...
A subtle growl of stomach in reaction to her meal, gave the girl cause to slide hand over tummy, adopting a somewhat defeated facial expression. Three or four further attempts did nothing to abate her hunger, confirming the negative results. It was not that the soup was badly mad, unseemly in looks or texture. It simply did nothing for her appetite.
And the realisation that this, of course, meant that she was given licence to have to supply it in other ways... Ways she knew would work... Perhaps that would not be so bad, after all. That it would be nice to have alternatives, went without saying. Lucy knew it was wrong. She had not lost her moral compass. It was merely... Being distracted. Its needle had simply found a more alluring pole to follow.
And one which seemed so very liberating, when young Lucy Cramwell allowed herself to follow in its wake.
Sliding the plate off to one side, its smell was no longer of interest. There were other scents in the world and plenty from downstairs, in amongst those of drifting smoke and alcohol. Smells she had never quite been able to detect in such unravelling detail, before that fateful night, yet never now eluded her.
Perhaps, thought Lucy, it was time to rejoin the living.
She could do with a drink.