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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

... And unfortunately, this means you have a neighbor who knows you're keeping a man in your flat.

[WELP.]

[She gives him a look, brow raised.]

Is that really such an odd thing, to you?

[Somehow she remembers him making some kind of similar comment the first couple of days he was staying here...]

[A pause. He's trying to choose his words carefully this time, don't sound weird, don't sound weird, don't sound weird...!!!]

So are we going to pretend now?

[SO CLOSE...]

[STILL A LITTLE WEIRD, PLS DON'T MAKE HER BLUSH AGAIN...]

Pre...pretend what?

[Maybe she's misunderstanding!!!]

Pretend that you have a boyfriend.

[CORVUS DON'T TRY TO SOUND LIKE YOU'RE NOT PART OF THIS??]

[INTERNAL SCREAM TO THE HEAVENS.....

Okay, calm down. In a weird way, he has a point. Someone did see her with a man in her flat, and the easiest explanation would be that she's in... a... relationship... with him. And if they ever did go out again, pretending would make it easier for him to not be "propositioned" nearly as much. It's a good cover, if not a slightly flustering one. (More flustering than it should be, she thinks, but pushes the thought away from now.)

She has to check on one thing, first:]

...Are you messing with me, Cor? Sometimes I can't tell if you're joking or not.

If I turn back into a cat and anyone asks where your partner went, you could say you're watching his pet for him.

[STOP THIS, HE'S CHOOSING OPTION C AND SWERVING OFF TRACK]

My... my partner?

[Christ. It sounds like he's ALL ON BOARD for this idea. Her mind is going to explode, he's so unpredictable...

She casts her eyes to the floor. Wow, her rug is really interesting right now.]

If... you're okay with "pretending", then it might work out better for us, in the end. It's an easier cover story.

Okay.

[... that was easy...]

[He's so casual... Elle can't decide if she should be bothered or relieved.]

...

Okay, then.

[She steps forward, heading back to her laptop -- but she's already forgotten what she was going to do.] Back to... normal, then.

[She just kind of... stares blankly at the screen, finding that her mind is too distracted now to do any real writing. She closes it, and searches for a way to fill the awkward air that only she is feeling.]

So, uh... I haven't read you anything in awhile. You up for it? [Let's move on, please.]

[Corvus's line of reasoning besides the reasons Elle listed: it's just a label after all isn't it? It's not like anything's going to... Occur.

He nods at her suggestion for reading.]

I am. What's the next book?

[She glances up at her bookshelf, brows knitted.]

Well... I guess I'll start with the same question as before. What're you in the mood for?

... Something that you like. Something that you've read multiple times.

[The first time she read to him, he deferred to her as well. This time, it's the same, but different. As if he really wants to know what's close to her heart.]

[And then her eyes flicker to an old copy of Pride and Prejudice, tucked away on a lower shelf. It looks well-used, with dog-eared pages and a bent spine.]

...You want me to read you an old Victorian romance novel?

[Just because he'd make a good Mr. Darcy doesn't mean that Elle is sure it'll keep his attention.]

... I'll sleep if it isn't engaging for me.

But it's something you like isn't it?

...yeah. [That's an... unexpected question.] Is that the only reason you want me to read it to you?

...

[A nod. It's true.]

I don't have anything I like myself after all.

That's why I don't mind when you show me the things that are important to you.

[Corvus, why do you say stuff like that? It's both touching and a little sad.]

...All right. But we're going to find things that you like, too, you know. So you won't just have to rely on me.

[And so Elle stands, grabbing the book, and taking a seat on the couch. She gestures at the empty spots next to her.]

Sit. Unless you want to listen while standing the whole time.

[And so he sits according to her instruction, although he is gonna bring up his legs and sit in a cross legged position. As a human.

Well, it doesn't look like he'll be changing back into a cat. This might be awkward.]

[She half expected him to proclaim he was going to return to his cat form first, but is surprised to see when he simply sits down at looks at her expectantly. She stares for a moment, then glances back down into her book.]

Um, okay, let's see.

[Focus. You've read this so many times in the past, Elle, it should feel like second nature to you.]

..."It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters."

[As the story goes.]

~*~*~*~*~

[It's a bit more than a romance novel; it's equal parts social commentary, on status and what one should expect out of a marriage, out of prejudices wrought from each other, and an unwavering pride on both parties' sides that dictates them. It's about the brooding (and very rich) Mr. Darcy, slighting everyone he comes across, and how he falls for Elizabeth Bennet, whose opinion of him was already far too low to consider him anything more than a prideful, cold-hearted man.

It's about coming to reach understandings, on finding ways to show how you care, how to look past these unfortunate first impressions and reveal something about a stranger's character you didn't see before. And so much more.

Of course, like she did with The Great Gatsby, Elizabeth stops somewhere in-between all of this to see if he's been paying attention. It's a longer book than the last.]

[Corvus did put an effort into listening and in a way, he understands the beauty of the words, the wit that was weaved into them to give life to a past that he may have been present in, but never aware of. As a human, it's easier to tell that he's contemplating deeply and not just spacing off as he would as a feline.

He thinks about how accustomed he's gotten to Elle's voice. How he started to look forward to reading time. About how he may just read on his own so that Elle doesn't have to tire herself out and take up time to read to him.

(He thinks about how he can live with himself when he goes back to his original goal; was it worth it? His heart beats, half of it. It aches.)

When Elle pauses, Corvus looks up at her.]

Are you tired?

[He's been more considerate lately; in a way, he always has been, but out of caution, out of mistrust, out of a need to keep an equilibrium between them. Here, it's rather sincere.]

[The contemplation is easy to spot. She's glad for it, but not because she's vain; Elle wants him to think, to become lost in a world that isn't this one. To dip his proverbial toes into the sea of emotion and circumstance that does not belong to him, but to the characters on a page, life breathed into them through the writing, through her own voice. It's escapism at its best, she always said -- and yet she knows that the best sort of books gently deposit you back into reality, with more to think about than you had initially started with. That was the beauty of it, and she was more than eager to share, in her own way.

She shakes her head at the question, smiling slightly at his consideration.] No. Just checking to see if you were. I'm always worried that you get bored of me reading to you, but I guess you were more immersed in the trials of Darcy and Elizabeth more than I thought.

But like you said, if you get tired, you'll just sleep, right?

[Corvus purses his lips and nods.]

I did.

I am feeling tired actually.

["Oh," she breathes out, gently closing her book.]

Then this is a good stopping place for now. Why don't you get some rest? There shouldn't be any more interruptions today thanks to you, after all; we can both laze around and just take today to relax.

[She's referencing his intervention with her neighbor previously. Something she's still quite grateful for.]

[The thing about Louis was that Corvus is finally glancing at Elle. Carefully. Not just focusing on her voice. The question of attraction had come up before and he had shied away from it. As a being that could adjust its biology to copy those around it, it meant that his reactions would be about similar too. When he was an avian he acted an avian way, the only difference being he was long lived and could be something different.

As a human? He never wanted to try. It was too...

He leans his face into the palm of one hand.]

Are you resting in your room?

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