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My love no dying ember
Apr. 13th, 2012 12:28 pm[Oh, hi City. Have one blank, expressionless and sort of pale looking Charlie on your screens. She's not looking at the device. It's likely she doesn't know it's on. It's been a few days since she's even made an appearance what with being fucking murdered and all. Reviving in the hospital wasn't too swell, either, so once she could get out of there, she was off.
And hiding. She's been alive-ish for a couple days now but...well, she's changed. For anyone that knew the girl when she first got here, picture that behavior and attitude but worse. Much worse.
But at least it's obvious she's in her room. Right? The familiar bedspread, bits and pieces of things belonging to Charlie scattered here and there. Her stack of recipe books on the bedside table and a cup of tea that was steaming away but otherwise untouched.
And Petrichor in Charlie's lap. A Petrichor trying hard to get attention from Charlie, butting her chin with his head, putting his paws on her shoulders and meowing at her. Charlie scratches and pets, sure, but it seems to be done quite vacantly. Not much feeling behind it, if any at all. The cat seems to know this because he hops off her lap and Charlie watches him as he heads to the device to meow into it. Charlie stands once she realizes the device is gone and it's grabbed, moved. A window slides open and for a moment it looks as though Charlie is about to drop it three floors down to the ground.
But then she hesitates. Looks into the thing, still that same blank and even a little...no, a lot guarded expression on her face.]
I'm back. Clearly.
[Flattest of tones, ever. Oh, dear. Oh, also? One more thing. This is important. Serious business if the look on her face is any indication.]
For anyone who thought for a second that my murderer is Ed. Don't. I'm going to say this once so listen. I'm not repeating myself. Not calmly, at any rate. It wasn't Ed. He wouldn't have done this. Fuck you if you think otherwise.
[And that's all she has to say before she hurries back into her room and stuffs the device in her dresser, slamming it shut. There's the sound of a door opening and closing and a shower switching on and then it idles out, switches off on it's own.]
And hiding. She's been alive-ish for a couple days now but...well, she's changed. For anyone that knew the girl when she first got here, picture that behavior and attitude but worse. Much worse.
But at least it's obvious she's in her room. Right? The familiar bedspread, bits and pieces of things belonging to Charlie scattered here and there. Her stack of recipe books on the bedside table and a cup of tea that was steaming away but otherwise untouched.
And Petrichor in Charlie's lap. A Petrichor trying hard to get attention from Charlie, butting her chin with his head, putting his paws on her shoulders and meowing at her. Charlie scratches and pets, sure, but it seems to be done quite vacantly. Not much feeling behind it, if any at all. The cat seems to know this because he hops off her lap and Charlie watches him as he heads to the device to meow into it. Charlie stands once she realizes the device is gone and it's grabbed, moved. A window slides open and for a moment it looks as though Charlie is about to drop it three floors down to the ground.
But then she hesitates. Looks into the thing, still that same blank and even a little...no, a lot guarded expression on her face.]
I'm back. Clearly.
[Flattest of tones, ever. Oh, dear. Oh, also? One more thing. This is important. Serious business if the look on her face is any indication.]
For anyone who thought for a second that my murderer is Ed. Don't. I'm going to say this once so listen. I'm not repeating myself. Not calmly, at any rate. It wasn't Ed. He wouldn't have done this. Fuck you if you think otherwise.
[And that's all she has to say before she hurries back into her room and stuffs the device in her dresser, slamming it shut. There's the sound of a door opening and closing and a shower switching on and then it idles out, switches off on it's own.]
