Gabrielle "Elle" Grayson (
animalqueen) wrote in
finalflight2016-12-09 12:47 pm
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Entry tags:
psl; [the healing process]

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF ELLE GRAYSON is generally a normal one, with enough variety sprinkled in throughout the week to prevent it from becoming a deadly dull routine. She lives in a flat in London, a charming little one bedroom and two bath, not particularly large, but cozy. It’s a strange fusion of modern and old fashioned, a dichotomy that reflects her own personality quite well.
Every morning, she wakes up and makes a cup of strong coffee. (Black, no sugar.) Her cat, a grey, long-haired, grumpy looking thing, lazes on her bed for longer than she does, only trotting out when he’s ready to be fed. His name is Paladin Leeroy. Sometimes she just calls him Lee.
When coffee and breakfast are a thing of the past, Elle usually hears chirping on her balcony, a structure small but laden with potted plants. She will open the doors, and sometimes, if she’s in a particularly energized mood, will announce, “Your Queen has arrived! Court will now be held,” and the little sparrows will chirp at her, and line up in a row. She’ll feed them birdseed, or bread, if she’s run out. Later, Leeroy will bound out, but she always tells him to leave the birds alone until they’re done eating. He listens. They always fly away before he gets a chance to do any real harm.
Lately, she’s been working part-time at an advertising agency, writing and tweaking copy that slides across her desk. It isn’t the most fulfilling job, but it pays the bills, and that’s what matters. Her real work is her own writing; freelancing for various websites, and poking and prodding at the idea for a book, slowly trying to force life into the narrative. Sometimes inspiration strikes her, and she sits and writes for hours at a time, until her eyes begin to strain, and she has to stop. Other times, she grows tired and can’t seem to string words together at all, and her word document looks a bit like this:
ugh ugh you suck
That always gets deleted at the end, of course.
Crammed in the corner of the living area is an upright piano, white and well-used. Sheet music sits scattered on its stand, and an acoustic guitar rests on the floor next to it. There’s a television, of course, a flat-screen that looks larger than it actually is in her apartment. Connected to it is a Playstation 2, a blu ray player, and little else. On the shelves above, there are books — so many books. Mostly horror and old classics; copies of Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice look particularly worn.
The shelf next to it is stocked with board games. Tabletop and family ones, alike. One in particular is even out of its spot, instead spread out on the little glass coffee table. It looks as if a campaign hasn’t been started yet, though someone’s been flipping through the manual quite recently. Maybe quite frequently.
Her bedroom is small, but the bed is large and roomy. There are pictures of friends and family on the bookshelves in here, and a few on her nightstand. Beyond that, she keeps this part of the flat a little messier than the rest.
GENERALLY, SHE LIVES A RELATIVELY NORMAL LIFE, quiet and cozy. Sometimes living by herself is a bit lonely, and the time difference means that she cannot call her mom and step-dad any time she likes just to hear their voices. But like all things, these emotions pass like any other. Perhaps the only real oddity in her life are the strange surprises she sometimes finds on her balcony. There were a family of raccoons once. A possum. A falcon, who looked lost and confused when she opened the door, turning its head at her, blinking. There were even rats, but they only sniffed the air in her direction, and did little else.
Elle Grayson is just a normal 26 year-old, with a magnetism or two that might be considered abnormal. Perhaps that’s the extent of the oddities in her life. Perhaps this is all she could ever really wish for.
Perhaps she’ll be proven wrong, sooner rather than later.
D I R E C T O R Y;
➤ a reunion
➤ a cat
➤ a novel
➤ an outing
➤ a resolution
➤ a sickness
➤ a home
➤ a boyfriend
➤ a horror
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She reminds herself that he's an alien, though. It's not like that's what he really looks like anyway, so what did it matter? It doesn't. It shouldn't. Really.
Finally, she comes out from her bedroom, dressed in jeans, a high-neck navy sweater, and a black jacket. In her hands, she has a pair of sandals. They're more suited for the summer rather than the winter, but it's not like James left his entire wardrobe at her flat.]
Here. [She walks up to him, looking a bit more confident this time than he last saw her.] Put these on. You can't go around barefoot.
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Thank you.
[Even if they belong to a certain distasteful man... But Corvus isn't picky. You aren't when you're more animal-like than human. He puts them on without much issue and then looks to Elle.]
And you're all prepared?
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[She grins down at him, any hesitation she had before completely gone (or at least very well hidden), for his sake. She offers him a hand, bidding him to stand and come along. He could stand by himself, obviously, but this was a gesture of friendship and a show that she was willing to cooperate to make sure he has a good time.]
Let's go. It's a short drive, and I have a shop or two in mind.
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If I take your hand will you act strange?
[HE'S THE ONLY ONE MAKING THIS WEIRD]
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Elle, bless her, stands her ground, unmoving. Hand still held out.]
No.
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Still, it was a nice little gesture, as stiff and awkward as he had tried to make it. Elle shoves aside that awkwardness, stuffing it away in a little box in her head to dwell on later.]
You're not gonna catch cooties from me, you know.
[She can't help but tease just a little.]
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You're making it difficult.
[why does he make everything terrible
On the other hand, it does seem like Corvus takes his promises seriously.]
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Listen, when you said that... I figured you meant more like, you weren't going to hurt me. You can touch me if you want. [ER.] I mean, you know, don't take it so literally.
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... I see.
[He'll leave you to deliberate that Elle, time to head towards the door!]
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Geez...
[But she follows him out, grabbing her keys and sunglasses for the ride over.]
[The ride in her car is a short one, which Elle is grateful for. She can't seem to find anything to fill in the silence, and despite her easy-going nature, the innate anti-social part of her is rearing its ugly head, and she struggles to find something to talk about. She's not very good with idle chatter, not if she's uncertain if the other party is interested or not. She wants to say that Corvus is decidedly not. She doesn't even know what station to put her music on.]
Here we are. [-she says, finally, as they pull into the parking lot. The storefront is large and fairly nice -- sure, not as expensive as what James' is used to wearing (she can't afford that, sigh), but it's nothing to scoff at. She has a few extra pounds to spend, courtesy of her family sending over a bit of extra income as a holiday present.
(She's not going to tell them that she's decided to spend it on buying clothes for an alien living in her flat with her, however. She can.... leave that part out.)]
Everyone out of the car. [She offers, an attempt at sounding light-hearted, even though it's only the two of them.]
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When they pull into the parking lot, he examines the store in front of them and nods. He wouldn't know the difference really except for obvious markers, between stores for human clothing. He steps out, hands in his pockets, keeping close to Elle.]
... Before you ask, I know how to conduct myself in these kinds of places.
[You know, just in case she thinks he's gonna be weird. As usual.]
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I'm sure you believe that's true. [She comments, highlighting her uncertainty about that. But she doesn't elaborate.
But they'll see, won't they? She's decided that she's just going to follow him around and let him pick out/try on a few things, until he's done. She won't interfere unless she needs to, though she might offer a comment or two here and there.
She's gotten it into her head that's how it's going to be, at least.]
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Corvus does everything in the most efficient manner which doesn't get him noticed or bothered by anyone else. As if he's done this before, more than once.]
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Still, she notes how he floats around wordlessly, not interacting with anyone if at all possible. There'a hardly any personality in how he moves, it's almost mechanical. It's as if this has turned into a chore, a required visit and nothing more, rather than something meant to be at least MILDLY entertaining.
She frowns. For some reason, his isn't how she wanted it to go.
Elle looks around, for something to subtly liven up his attire. Nothing to crazy, of course, but she's desperate to inject... something in him. Just... smile a little, Cor.
Her eyes settle on a scarf hanging on a display nearby. It's a deep scarlet hue, soft and cozy looking, and yet relatively refined. It would suit him, he thinks. It would stand out in a good way against all the dark colors. She grabs it and walks over to him when he comes out of the dressing rooms, grinning.]
Cor, what about this?
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... It'll be very warm to sleep on.
[As a cat. Corvus...]
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[Oh. She frowns, shaking her head, when he gets his meaning.]
No, not to sleep on. To wear when you're... [Human.] You know. Like you are now.
[She wants him to like it, and is compelled to take it from him, and reach up to loop it around his neck as if to illustrate her point. She even ties it in a neat pretzel knot for him.] See?
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He unties it.
And then wraps it around so that his mouth and nose are covered.
He looks at Elle.
Nods. He speaks with a muffled voice.]
Good.
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And then he wraps it around his mouth, and his nose. She blinks up at him, and feels a laugh bubbling up. Elle covers her mouth with her hand, trying to hold it back.]
You... you can't...
[Okay, she does laugh at him, she can't help herself. She brings up a hand to pull down the part of the scarf that covers up his nose.]
You don't get to wear it like that unless there's a blizzard outside.
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It's warm.
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Okay, well. [She won't be the one to burst his bubble, if he wants to walk around with a scarf covering his face.] At least wait until we pay for it before you wear it.
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... You're going through a lot of trouble.
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What do you mean?
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