InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Don’t flatter yourself!"

inmyownworld (inmyownworld) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-04-26 23:39:00

Current music:	Switchblade Symphony- "Mine Eyes"
Entry tags:	!complete, day 05, l lawliet, laura moon, location: pharmacy/liquor store

Day 5- I Only Want to Hear the Angels Laugh, Are They Sleeping On The Edge of the Sky? [Finished]
Who: L Lawliet and Laura Moon
What: Fractious, sleepless detective. Sympathetic, watchful Laura. Aspirin.
When: Day 5 Early Afternoon
Where: The drug store
Rating: PG to start
Status: Complete

It had been a long and somewhat frustrating morning. The odd, precarious and often baffling thing that was L's sleeping patterns were catching up to him, and there couldn't be a worst time for their negative effects to stalk him. He slept for four hours every two days, and now that he was ready to collapse as that time was again approaching, he found, to his horror, that as soon as his eyes closed and he composed himself, a loud siren jolted him back to jittery wakefulness. It was a complete and terrible exhaustion, the kind that no amount of coffee or sugar could remedy. The kind that made nail guns look better than a glass of cool, clear water looks to a man dying of thirst.

Not to mention he had a whanging headache. Without Watari around to provide him with much-needed dietary supplements and a quiet place to fall asleep when determined limbs and stubborn willpower couldn't keep him awake any longer, L tended to start to fade and weaken. It was odd and a little ironic that he and Laura were living together as "partners". The two were looking more alike now that L was getting paler and thinner.

Sighing, L curled up where he was, against a row of shelves in the drug store. And was instantly covering his ears in frustrated madness when the alarm sounded, like clockwork. Composing himself, wanting to scream but not possessing the ability to healthily release pent-up aggression or emotions, L seized a bottle of cough syrup and hurled it at the wall opposite him, where it shattered. He eyed the sticky fragments with contempt, drawing his knees to his chest and hugging them.

(Read comments) - (Post a new comment)

spitandviolets
2009-05-05 04:25 pm UTC (link)

"I'm not sure that you could ever really understand it, Ryuzaki," she murmured, shaking her head. "I'm not the same person that I was. I wasn't myself for a very long time. You say that the ordinary, healthy person changes, yet I am neither ordinary, nor healthy, nor have I been for a long time. Drugs, you say, and mind-altering ones. I drank so much for so long that it rotted away any part of my personality that was mine, that was something I recognized. I'm something wicked, something rotten, something twisted. And I am glad that I am not the sort of undead who never ages, never gets worse. I rot. I decay. I decline. My insides seep out, overtaking my physical form, making me as disgusting and as hideous as I deserve to be."

"You should have known me!" she said, a little more forcefully than usual. Laura was shaking faintly. Her fingers were gripping the counter, and the strain was denting the wooden countertop. "I wasn't this." It was as if the echo of emotion was able to sneak through and come out into her pale, faint, sad, monotone voice. "I was brilliant. I was lively. I was vibrant, and I lived. I was alive until I went and removed my own soul by damning his." The emotion, over the course of her words, had faded out completely once more. "I loved strawberry flavored things, especially daiquiris. I made amazing chili. I always thought that I was too fat and had curves in all the wrong places. I wore sexy lingerie simply because I could; I was good at stripping, and I liked to do it because it was fun. I liked to dream about the places that I would go if I ever had the money, like Italy and France and London and Tokyo and Hawaii. I had doubts; I worried about if I was a good enough wife, if I really loved Shadow, if my life had meaning. I wondered what my father would have thought about me if he had lived."

Slowly, the dark haired woman's head bowed. Her hair fell forward, covering her face, and her hands moved to her eyes. She covered them, hard, and pressed in. Her eyes gave a faint squish beneath her palms, but she didn't worry about it very much. She couldn't damage herself that badly. What was she doing? In truth, the answer wasn't in her mind. It was an impulse reaction. And then the memory of something that she'd lost came through. A straining, heavy feeling was in her chest. It was like something was sitting on her sternum, pressing down, trying to squeeze her lungs out.

"I want to cry," she said very quietly. "I want to cry, I don't know why I want to cry, and I know that it is not possible for me to cry. I don't usually feel. I don't understand what's going on anymore. I feel like there's something wrong with me. I feel...empty."

"You really feel like you're different? You really feel like you know more about me?" Her brows furrowed, and she peeked through her fingers at him. She looked helpless somehow, innocent, vulnerable. It was one of those moments when the unbeatable corpse woman was practically made of glass.

(Reply to this) (Parent)

(Read comments) -