finalflight | psl; [the healing process]

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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:

And then stuff happened. Everyone died tragically but it was fine, because it was thematically appropriate to the narrative.

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.

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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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[Have a cat nod at you Elle.]

Yes. There was probably a time long before you existed when I lingered around those buildings during and after their construction.

[She sometimes forgets that Corvus is old. Old enough to have been around when historic churches were being built. She's in awe, for a moment, before she reels her imagination back in long enough to ask him a question.]

What was it like?

Solemn.

[He paws at his cake to break off a piece. And then he licks his paw before continuing.]

Despite the changing tides caused by the smallest ripples of conflict, humans kept creating. Walls are built. Walls destroyed. So on. So forth.

... You'll break through your own walls. That, I can say with certainty.

Edited 2016-12-15 01:59 (UTC)

[For a moment, she's speechless. She wonders if she heard him right, and plays it over in her head to be sure.]

That's the nicest thing you've said to me. [That ranks up on the nicest thing anyone has said to her throughout the entire year, even without meaning to.

She smiles. It makes her feel happy, if tinged with slight embarrassment.]

Thanks, Cor. That's kind of sweet.

[Again, she doesn't know how to follow that up, her words disappearing from her mind. And so, she just takes a long swig from her beer.]

I... um. I can find some music that's meant to imitate bells ringing, maybe a piano arrangement. I don't think you want me to sing to you, though. [It's the slightest twist on the truth; more like she just doesn't really feel comfortable doing that. (And right after his nice comment about breaking down walls, too.)] Usually an instrument is enough to soothe on its own, anyway.

[The funny thing about Corvus is he doesn't think about his words (well, obviously) as good or bad. He's selective about what he reveals, what he thinks is necessary to know or not know in order to move ahead more quickly. What he said to Elle, he didn't mind revealing because it was a truth to him.

Her gratefulness for what he said is odd, but he supposes he can accept it. It meant he was able to pay her back for the temporary shelter in some abstract way.]

If you want. I will not press for it since you are providing more than enough.

Hey, it's part of my resolution, remember? It'll help me in the long run, too.

[She brings the bottle to her lips to take another drink, but-- oh, it's already empty. She's going to have to get another, and she hasn't even started on her cake. She moves to set down the empty bottle on the table for now, when she catches the time on the microwave on the counter across from her.]

Oh, sh-.... crap! [She nearly knocks said bottle over, but manages to straighten it before it clatters to the ground.] It's almost midnight, hurry up or we're gonna miss the fireworks!

[And she rushes over to her balcony (but not before grabbing another beer on the way over), swinging open the doors and stepping out into the night air. The sky is clear and dotted with bright stars, and the moon hangs silently amidst them.]

[He lets Elle rush past him first before he makes his way over to the balcony to follow her. Corvus finds a part of the ledge that suits him and seats himself next to Elle.

While she waits excitedly for the fireworks show, he stares up at the night sky. So clear. Such a bright moon. What did his sky look like before? He can't remember anymore.

... But in a way, maybe it wouldn't have lived up to tonight. It was beautiful. And being next to Elle Grayson made him feel the atmosphere of the upcoming year unlike previous ones where time was fluid and simply flowed. Tonight, it seemed like there was a sharp turn for once in his existence.

He stays silent though, as usual, not being able to express such thoughts to someone who he has only known for a few days.]

[Elle situates herself to lean against the balcony. There are no birds tonight -- even they need their rest at such a late hour, and will not come unless she calls for them. Elle isn't so selfish as to wake them up for the sake of her own vanity, and therefore the two of them have the balcony all to themselves for the night.

She remains unaware of Corvus' musings, of course. His silence is not unusual, and though there is a lingering peacefulness in the air -- a quiet sort of anticipation before the night sky explodes with color -- she only assumes that he's keeping his thoughts to himself once more. It wouldn't be untrue.

Still, undeterred as she often is, she has to comment.] It's a nice night for a fireworks show. [She sets her newly opened beer on the wooden railing, taking care not to knock it over.] Should be any minute now.

[Elle's right. The wait isn't long at all. There's a faint whistling carried in the night air, then a silence. Then a crackling burst of color as the fireworks show begins, off in the distance, but near enough to cast light on them as they gaze up at the display.

She laughs, lost in the color.]

[He sits and watches with her, letting the color, the explosions, the lights, and her delight at the spectacle wash over him.

His heart beats.

He sits and watches and since it's not noticeable as a cat, he glances at Elle. For some reason, he does not how to interpret his own thoughts at that very moment as the New Year comes upon them in a burst of light. Corvus finds himself looking down at his feline paws as if he feels...

Shame?

His heart beats. It's another year. He's alive and survived as he has done so for so long, but then he knows he would have died not so long ago if it wasn't for her.

And so he speaks, quietly, but enough for Elle to hear.]

... Happy New Year.

[In a bright flash of dazzling light, Elle hears Corvus wish her a happy New Year, and she glances over at him, quietly surprised. In the delight of color, his feline profile is illuminated with each firework that goes off. It's difficult for her to read him, perhaps more so as a cat; but despite her own innate magnetism (or perhaps because of it), she feels a stream of contemplation behind those glistening feline eyes.

Maybe she's just seeing things. Maybe the warmth of the alcohol is already making her imagination run wild.

But it didn't matter. Regardless of where the sentiment came from, it's returned sincerely. Softly.] Happy New Year, Corvus. It'll be a great one.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

[Elle was right when she told Corvus they were lucky to have such a view; the display is a professional one, the kind that people pay good money to see. The kind that's worth paying good money to see, to lose oneself in the night sky and bright lights and festive company. As such, there are varying types of fireworks that go off, in different patterns and rhythms. It lasts for a good 45 minutes.

Maybe it's because, finally after several years, she has company this New Years, that it feels different this time. It wasn't at all the normal sort of company, but Elle found that just because Corvus was currently a cat didn't mean that she wasn't feeling a budding friendship and camaraderie with him, in just their few short days together. She feels excited. More eager to celebrate. More eager to drink.

She disappears occasionally when she's drained her bottle, to come back with a couple more. By the end of the show, there are four or five bottles, sitting empty on the railing. By the time the finale explodes in the air -- every color imaginable, like bright planets bursting in the sky -- she lifts her arms up and laughs. Her cheeks are red and she may be swaying just a little, but she's having fun.

And true, a little drunk. She didn't eat anything for dinner (she was saving room for cake!!) and not being much of a drinker in general, her tolerance isn't as high as some.]

[Corvus stays in his place, laying down on his stomach for the rest of the show as Elle goes in and out to get herself new bottles of alcohol. Only after he glances away from the lights does he notice the number of bottles has increased to a disturbing amount compared to the beginning of the show.

He isn't so stupid that he isn't aware that this wasn't going to be pretty for Elle in the morning. So he speaks up once the fireworks begin to wind down.]

You are consuming over the recommended limit.

[She turns to look at him, grinning, and points a finger in his direction.]

No, you are consuming over the recommended limit.

[Elle......

But then she laughs again and (tries) to straighten.]

Cor, don't worry, I think I'm done with beer. The fireworks are over and we still got... we still got cake. Don't you want more cake?

You are inebriated.

[Corvus has a feeling that being blunt as usual is going to fall on deaf ears. He gently jumps off his spot on the ledge and looks up at Elle.]

I don't think I need more cake.

[He would be right about that. Though when he says that he doesn't need more cake, she pouts a little.]

Whaaaat? We've barely had two pieces... And no, I'm not inebri... drunk. I'm fine, I'm just a little... buzzed is all.

[She walks back into her flat, almost closing the doors behind her before she realizes that Corvus is still out there; so, she leaves them swung open. As if to prove her point that she's totally fine, Corvus, geez, she whirls around on her heel and opens her arms in a "ta-da" motion.]

See? I'm fine.

[...Oh. She shouldn't have done that. She feels like all the blood is draining from her head, the edges of her vision going dark. Like asking her to stay balanced is the same as asking her to split the atom.

She faints, falling on her side, not-so-gracefully to the rug below.]

...I think I had too much to drink. [REALLY ELLE?] Zero HP.

[Well, she's not unconscious yet, but she certainly isn't standing on her own.]

...

...

[Corvus walks inside watching Elle make a spectacle of herself until she falls to her side. He jumps slightly, in that cat-like way when one is startled by a sudden action. There's not much to dwell on at this point. Elle is piss drunk and laying on the floor which will be incredibly discomforting when the sun rises. Not the best start to a New Year.]

...

[He slips into the shadows and begins to stand on his hind legs. And steadily his fur sinks into his human skin, his bones grow larger and sturdier, his paws turn to hands, hair concentrates to his skull and face, his brain center readjusts itself to be in sync with the spine.

The process stings. He's only used to it after many, many, many years.

When he's finished, Corvus, clothed in jeans and one of the newly bought shirts he and Elle got, walks over to her and squats by her side.]

Elle.

I am going to bring you to bed.

[At this point, trying to see anything is like viewing out of pinhole. Laying here just seems like the only option. And so when Corvus walks up to her, she focuses only on his voice.

She giggles a little.]

You can't, silly. You're a cat. You're a cat... but... you always sleep out here. You can sleep in my bed if you want instead, I'll just lie... here. But only if you're a cat, Cor. Just...

[She mutters something, unintelligible.]

[And without any hesitation, shame, or anything that resembles basic human reluctance, Corvus scoops Elle up from under her armpits and then hoists her over his shoulder. It's as if he's carrying a bag of flour effortlessly, except the bag of flour is in fact, just Elle.]

Good thing you're light.

Edited 2016-12-15 05:25 (UTC)

[What a sight of poise and grace she is, right now.

She's lifted up, but it's disorienting, because it feels as if her... head is lower than it should be? But at the same time, it's like she's floating effortlessly across what she can only assume is her flat. Is this what it feels like to fly? Is she dreaming? It's hard to tell. She just knows that whatever is carrying her is warm, and far too big to be Kitty Corvus.

God, she's piss drunk. She's going to so hate herself in the morning. She's going to be so embarrassed.

But right now, her inhibitions are at an all time low. She can't help herself. It's New Years. Don't people sing something on New Years? Can she sing when she's upside down? And flying? Flying upside down? She breathes out the words.

She breathes out the wrong words. The old poem. She memorized it, a few years ago; she liked the words better. It still fits the tune, though her own singing is barely above a whisper in the state she's in, as Corvus carries her to her room.]

Should Old Acquaintance be forgot,
and never thought upon;
The flames of Love extinguished,
and fully past and gone:
Is thy sweet Heart now grown so cold,
that loving Breast of thine;
That thou canst never once reflect
On old long syne.

[He listens as he walks to her bedroom door. There's a pause as he puts his hand on the doorknob and he hears the words she sings to, actually pays attention to what she's saying.

There's a brief thought about how he may ask her where it's from once she wakes up and recovers.

In any case, the door is opened and Corvus, carefully, if ungracefully deposits Elle onto her mattress.]

There. Sing yourself to sleep.

[Sorry, but she's done singing for now. She feels herself sink into the mattress, albeit a little clumsily. Was this her bed? Was that Corvus?

Why is he in here? ...Oh, that's right. She did say he could sleep here if he was a cat. Maybe that's what he was doing.

What a good cat. What a nice kitty. A nice friend. She feels compelled to utter a thanks, despite it taking an unusual amount of effort.]

Thanks for watching the... fireworks with me. Did you like them?

[She feels like she's about to fall asleep.]

[And he was just about to leave too. He's stopped in front of the door, back turned towards her.]

... Yes.

They were very bright.

[She smiles, drifting off. She agrees. They were very bright.]

Yeah... they're like exploding... stars...

[And then silence. She's asleep.]

[He listens to see if she'll say anything else. Instead, he takes in her breathing, the airiness and the softness of it. Proof of her existence.]

... That was the first time. That I sat down and watched with someone else.

[He knows she won't hear him. He's not sure why he said that aloud to begin with. And so, he exits closing the door behind him, pondering on the memory that was made tonight, all the brightness, sweetness, and foolishness.

He didn't have very many memories worth recalling.]

[Morning comes too quickly.

She feels it in her head, first. An acute ache, a terrible sharp pain, and she hasn't even opened her eyes yet. Elle turns on her side, moaning, feeling like death itself.]

What the fuck...

[Why. Why does she feel so awful? She blinks her eyes open, cringing. She's... in her room? How come she doesn't remember how she got here? How come she's not in her PJs?

Groaning again, Elle sits up. She looks around her room, trying to remember, but there's a great blank spot somewhere in-between the end of the fireworks show and her waking up right now. However, she's not stupid. She knows this feeling -- she's not had it too many times in her life, but she recognizes a terrible hangover when she has one.

She drank too much.]

Ugh. Fuck.

[Pulling herself out of bed, she makes her way slowly into the living area. The sun filtering in through the windows make her scowl and squint. Her hair is a mess, her clothes are a little wrinkled from sleeping in them. She feels gross. So gross.]

Someone please kill me. [-she announces. Leeroy looks up at her from the other side of the room, unimpressed.]

[Outside, Corvus has been laying and sleeping on the couch throughout the night quietly as a cat. Of course, said sleep is interrupted when Elle finally makes her reappearance. He looks up, watching her squint at the morning sun.

He speaks up, a little flatly.]

It's the first day of the New Year. Too late to make that resolution.

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the next morning...

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