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Laura Moon (spitandviolets) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,

"You're so simple," she remarked. Laura lacked a little in the tact department most times. She put things bluntly. It was the only way that she could remember. "You are who you are. It all seems to be right there, laid out for the whole world to see. I don't think I knew many human beings like you. I don't understand it. I was never like that. I think I lived most of my life hiding behind a mask. I was happy, yeah. I was content with what I had, but it wasn't my dream. That's where human beings get into trouble. You want what you can't have, you make a move for it, and that's when it all fucking goes to Hell."

She sipped at her beer, falling silent. Laura did talk a lot more now that she was dead. She had been a woman of few words in life. She was always smiles and kind deeds, but words usually failed her. Fear had kept them back. She was always worried that she was going to say or do something that would offend somebody or, worse, would betray her and show the world how insecure she really could be.

Though she did not often feel, she was capable of being distantly touched by powerful emotions. When he called her Baby, even though it wasn't the same, something shifted inside of Laura. She was too freshly dead for it to be maggots already, so she knew it had to be an echo. She turned to him, her deep blue eyes staring at him in the dancing light of the fire. She could see him as clearly as if it were noon. Her voice was quiet.

"I like when you call me that," she said, shrugging it off, looking away from him and down at the ground. "Baby. Somebody used to call me that. It was the closest to a nickname I ever had. I like it better than being called 20 Questions." A little smirk. That was a good nickname, though. She was a doer now. She got things done. "I guess you're not useless. It helps, finding something that I like. Some days," she looked up at the sky, "some days it's as if I don't like anything anymore. I have trouble even getting my own memories straight sometimes."

Her voice trailed off. It was hard not to get melancholy. Then he talked about rehab, and she turned, seeing his grin. Laura actually almost laughed. She offered him a smile, though it was probably one of the most depressing things in the universe. It was sad and hopeful all at the same time. It was a lopsided smile.

"So, where would you rather be, and what would you rather be doing?"