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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[Truthfully, Elle is more embarrassed than actually annoyed. She knew what she had signed up for the moment she had more than one or two conversations with Corvus, a little more than a week and a half ago. (Was it nearly two weeks already? How did it feel like it was going by in a flash?)

Instead, that was not a conversation she wanted to have in public, in frantic whispering, with him of all people. For some reason, her spike of embarrassment was acute, almost debilitating. She wasn't sure why, but her mind was whirling, and all she could think to do was to tell him to hush.

The odd "yes" makes her think that, at least, he's going to behave for now. (She swears she can still feel his presence so close and directly behind her, even if they're not touching.)

It's only when she pays for two tickets up at the front, that Elle begins to walk towards the actual entrance of the planetarium, but not without turning to Corvus and handing him his. it seems that her embarrassment has died down a little, now that the subject of... being "propositioned" has been shut down.]

Here. This one's yours. They'll check it at the door, then we can go in and sit wherever there's room.

...And sorry for telling you to shut up, back there.

[He accepts the ticket unquestioningly, looking at the text instead of her until she gives an apology.]

... No. It's fine.

[He's surprised that he isn't as irate as he could have been.]

It was probably warranted.

But sometimes I forget that you really don't know any better. [So, why should she get irritated if no one's ever been around to teach him? She should know better than that.]

So just forget about it, okay? Let's just have some fun now. Stay close so you don't get "propositioned" again.

[She gives him a teasing grin.]

... Right.

[There's a heartened look to him. Relief? It's an odd feeling, but he recognizes it as such.

They go inside and tickets are given. Further in, he takes a seat near the middle back rows waiting for Elle to do the same. He's already looking up at the ceiling in anticipation.]

Edited 2016-12-17 22:01 (UTC)

[Once in, she takes a seat next to him, leaning back and gazing up at the ceiling. Glancing over at Corvus, she can tell he's a bit excited for the show -- as excited as the man can reveal, at least.

They don't have to wait long before the lights dim and the show begins. Starting up, they're greeted with an introduction: It's a feature on galaxies that are not their own. Andromeda. Messier 101. The Tadpole Galaxy. They even feature far-away nebulas, and beautifully mesmerizing photographs taken from advanced satellites. A swath of color and light, and Elle is enraptured by the images, even though she's seen similar before, during her planetarium trips back in America.]

[Without a doubt and without any hesitation, if asked, Corvus would have said the sight they're presented before them is beautiful. The room is swathed in darkness and suddenly lights from above shine down upon them.

Throughout the majority of the presentation, there is no comment from him, only immersion and deep thought. For the first time in what feels like forever, he's feels like he's surrounded by something akin to home...

Home...

He finally murmurs.]

It's probably not there anymore.

[Her attention is quietly pulled from the screen to him, when she hears him mutter something she doesn't quite catch. Elle looks at his expression, not sure if what she's seeing is contemplation or melancholy. Maybe both.

She leans over and whispers to him, brow furrowed:] Hey... you ok?

[He doesn't say anything, just letting the images run above them. That's right, it's all just an illusion, images taken secondhand. He's no closer than he was before.

He wants to say something. His friends, they birds, they knew he was not of this world. They took him in, he led them and their children, their children's children, and so forth throughout countless seasons. But during that time he could lose himself, not have to dwell in the utter loneliness he felt despite being surrounded.

Here he sits, with Elle. She always asked him, bothered him, prodded him with words and actions he wasn't used to. He talked to her about so many things in the way only humans could and sometimes he even felt...

There's not a lot he can say when surrounded by strangers. But he does give her this.]

... I traveled... A very, very, long distance. Like I said, I remember less and less of what it was like. Being out there.

[...oh. She bites at her lower lip, trying to decide what to say. What to do. Her thoughts run parallel with his: they can't talk candidly when they're in public like this, but she can at least be considerate of his feelings and ask:]

If this is... making you uncomfortable, we can leave.

No.

We'll stay until it's finished. And then we'll go...

[He's about say, 'home,' but he reminds himself. Temporary. It's temporary.

... We'll go back.

[She frowns, feeling his sadness practical radiate off of him. She wishes she could do more, she wishes that she could just take away whatever it is he's feeling and replace it with happiness-

But she nods. They'll finish the show, and maybe they can talk more freely then.

So for now, she decides to be bold enough to tentatively reach over and give his hand a little squeeze. It's an innocent gesture, just to be reassuring to him.]

Okay. But if you change your mind, just let me know.

[There's a startled jolt in his hand when she reaches over with her own to give his hand a squeeze. He doesn't make any other reaction, they're in public, although he does glance at Elle, brow furrowed and troubled in its expression.

But he doesn't reject her hand. Corvus looks away and then up at the ceiling.

He wasn't alone right now even if he's so far away.]

[And so they continue to watch the rest of the show, wordlessly. It ends with a question: Just how expansive is our universe, just what lies beyond our reach? She glances over at Corvus only briefly, wondering the same herself.]

~*~*~*~*~

[When the show is over and they're making their way out of the building, Elle will not complain if he decides to stick close to her again for the sake of keeping attention at bay. She looks down at her feet as she walks, deciding what to say.]

Um... So did doing this help you remember anything? [She's not sure how to broach the subject without being direct, and so she does.]

[And stick close to her he does, both hands in his pockets.]

... Not very much, if at all if I had to admit. I just remember being among the stars. Millions, countless ones.

[She looks at him, frowning with a little concern.]

You don't remember anything at all about where you came from? What it was like?

[He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets.]

It was... Gone. Destroyed.

[His voice sounds strained.]

I'm not sure if I even remember what took it or how I even escaped.

[She's at a loss for words. How does one even console someone who's lost their entire home planet? Nothing would feel substantial enough, everything would ring hollow.]

I'm... sorry. Is there anything I can do to help you? I know I'm just human and can't really comprehend what it must be like, but if I can help you remember in some way...

[She trails off.]

[He looks up and stares at her for a second. Then a strange thing happens.

He chuckles.]

[Elle blinks at him. The chuckle is not what she was expecting, and its shift in tone confusing.]

What?

[Corvus covers his mouth as if surprised by his own reaction.]

Nothing, just...

... Humans... Always wanting to do hopeless things.

[Elle isn't sure how to take that -- if she should be offended, or feel vaguely amused by how he's reacted to the chuckle, or sorry for him for calling it a hopeless endeavor.

She stops walking to look at him more directly.]

How do you know it's hopeless? You shouldn't be so quick to assume stuff like that. That's like preemptively... giving up.

In a way, there's no real point. I've been here for who knows how long? Earth is my home whether I like it or not, or whether I try to grasp for straws that are beyond my reach.

[He has a point there, but still...]

It might be your home now, but thinking in finalities like that is probably the reason why you're so sad all the time.

[... It's weird. Being told he's sad. There are other reasons too, but...]

Could think of worse reasons to be sorrowful, don't you think?

There's never a good reason to be sorrowful, Cor.

[She sighs. Then keeps walking, headed towards the car.]

Sometimes just talking about it is enough. You don't have to keep everything bottled up inside. That's what I'm here for, remember?

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