psl; [the healing process]

[animalqueen]

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

Comments

[coalheart]

[And with one swift motion so that there's no hesitation and no protesting, he lays his body down sideways and finds a headrest in the form of Elle's lap, using his arm as a buffer between his face and her legs and...

It's warm.

His eyes are already closed. Everything that's been going on in his head really did exhaust him. He just wants to rest. He just wants...]

So stay.

[animalqueen]

[For a moment, predictably so, Elle freezes. But it isn't from trepidation, it isn't from shock, it isn't even from confusion; it's just that suddenly, he's there, his head in her lap, and she's feeling that swell of warmth again, that feeling of fondness that's sharpened at the edges with something that threatens to be more intense than mere friendly affection. It's acute, and yet it's a dull sort of ache. She doesn't know why this keeps happening, she wishes she knew why he kept doing this to her, was he trying to confuse her, but no, Corvus wouldn't do that, it's as simple as he said, he just wants her to...

To stay with him.]

Corvus...

[She looks down at his face, at his profile, too handsome for its own good. She can feel her heart pulsing in her chest, and it seems so thunderous that she can swear to god that he might be feeling it too. But she doesn't move, she can't move. No, she doesn't want to move.

And so the only thing to do is to let him rest, to take in his offered warmth and his scent, so close to her. She doesn't know what to do with her arm that isn't already resting on the couch, almost too afraid to shatter the moment, but--

Her fingers brush lightly at his cheek, a ghost of a touch, barely there, probably barely registered. Then her hand settles onto his shoulder, resting there, and she simply continues to look down at him.

Doesn't he know what this does to me?]

[coalheart]

[He's tired.

Tired from his traveling among the stars. Tired of the incurable sorrow from the loss of something that he barely remembers and will eventually forget. Tired from obsessively following a part of himself he can't get back (but he wants it back desperately, he still clings to being whole), tired of being part of a world which was full of temporary beings, temporary things.

But most of all, he's tired of trying to reject the warmth.

Elle is warm.

Elle took care of him.

Even if he couldn't do anything in return, even though he didn't deserve the kindness, monster that he is, even if she wouldn't be there forever, the time spent with her had been replacing the memories of countless seasons that he spent with his flock, the pain of arrival, the pain of loss.

Basking in her presence, in her bothersome words, in her voice, in her, right now, resting on her felt like it could have been some kind of forever.

For once, maybe he'd be alright. Being together was alright.]

[animalqueen]

[Elle watches him — waits for him to say something, anything, waiting for him to move, to lift his head up and end what must be an illusion. This odd little anomaly in her life that he was causing. Because surely a moment like this could not last, and was bound to dissipate sooner rather than later, and then things could continue on normally like they have been, like she’s been pretending they have been, all this time.

He doesn’t move.

Her hand, the one on his shoulder, feels warm. It moves slightly, slowly, with the cadence of his breathing. Minutes pass, and Elle’s heartbeat begins to slow. The initial feeling of uncertainty (or was it an anxiousness, a wayward sort of excitement?) was fading into something calmer, something more observant on her part. Corvus, he looked vulnerable again, just like the time he fell asleep in her car, but now… Now, he appeared so tired. As if he was allowing her to see this side of him for the first time, and Elle wishes against all hope that he could find his rest, somehow, some way, tonight.

So she doesn’t say anything else, and won’t for a long while. On the far side of the room, Leeroy sleeps, curled up in a ball, tail tucked close to him. She smiles a little at the notion of her entire flat tempting her into rest; her apartment keeps a warm glow, and someone important to her, she’s realizing, is laying his head in her lap, his breathing hypnotic.

She cranes her own head back, closing her eyes. Lets her head sink into the plush of the sofa, relaxing, letting the swell of whatever this was (for once, stop overthinking it, she tells herself) wash over her.

Eventually, she’s pulled under by sleep. She dreams of a cat who isn’t a cat, resting quietly in her lap, as she reads. It isn’t terribly far from reality.]

[coalheart]

[They both don't move for a while. He flickers in and out of sleep, not wanting to move as if afraid to ruin the moment as he's so wont to do. He's giving himself so much allowance and it's such a peaceful thing, it feels unreal.

An hour later, he wakes up. He's still on her lap, still resting, still halfway through a dream he can't remember.

Corvus can feel Leeroy tucked close to him. It's another first. That cat didn't trust him at all before and with good reason.

He considers moving for a minute before giving up. He doesn't want to.]

[animalqueen]

[Elle remains asleep, a woman so easily dragged under by slumber, and swift to fall into its dreams. What she's dreaming about, it's hard to say, but she mutters lightly under her breath, something about horses pulling a carriage — undoubtedly inspired by Jane Austen’s narrative, read to Corvus barely an hour ago.

Leeroy is purring, simply because he’s warm and content. A cat needs little other reason to, after all, and it’s only when he senses Corvus stirring does he lift his head and give a little chirp of a meow. It’s a funny noise, not matching up with his usual unimpressed expression.

Don’t move, I’m comfy, seems to be the implication.]

[coalheart]

[For a while, Corvus does nothing. He continues to rest, eyes half-lidded.]

...

...

...

[But. He supposes, it must end at some point. And Elle's legs might get tired of his weight.

So he reaches up with one hand and pats her on the head. Once. Twice. Three times.]

[animalqueen]

[It seems to be just enough to rouse her from her sleep. Her brows knit together, and she mutters, "But he fell off his horse..." before her eyes begin to slowly open.

It's hard to tell if she's still caught in the wake of a dream or not. Eyes half-lidded, she's looking down at him, and it's as if what's happening hasn't quite registered yet.]

Oh, hey... I think you fell asleep.

[You fell asleep, too, you know.]

[coalheart]

You did too.

[Don't think he won't point it out. But he remains laying there.]

... Are you tired?

[Of me? it sounds like almost.]

[animalqueen]

[There’s the smallest flicker of a questioning look, but then it’s gone. Even if she does or does not hear the implied words lingering above their heads, her answer would have been the same regardless.

She shakes her head a little.] No.

Just comfortable.

[coalheart]

... Yes.

[He murmurs in agreement. Shifts his position slightly, but not by much.]

You're warm.

[animalqueen]

...So are you.

[Out of her peripheral, she can see the flicking of a cat's tail. Leeroy...?

It pulls her out of her state just enough to ask:]

Am I... seeing things, or is that Leeroy cuddled up next to you?

[coalheart]

Probably.

[Corvus, it's not "probably," it's no joke, a Leeroy is next to him.]

Probably wanted my spot.

[animalqueen]

That, or he thinks you're the next best thing.

[She laughs a little, then stretches her arms up. The awkardness at the start seems to have completely dissipated; what was the point, if he literally has been in her lap for...

She looks at the clock. Longer than an hour? Wow.

Elle looks down at him, stifling a yawn.]

Are you all right? You looked so tired. And I can't imagine my lap is much more comfortable than the couch cushions.

[coalheart]

... I'm fine. I think.

[He just. Likes this. He actually likes this.]

Sorry.

[And he actually apologizes...? It's the upside down world.]

[animalqueen]

[Not only is he apologizing, but Elle isn't even sure for what. Vague lingerings of confusion seems to be the theme for today.]

...For what? I wasn't complaining.

[coalheart]

For not asking to rest on you.

[Still he lays there.]

It seemed right. For me, but for you...

[animalqueen]

[...Oh. His consideration is kind of sweet, and Elle feels that tinge of embarrassment coming on again. It's not as strong as the last time, however, and she ignores it with more ease than she initially thought possible.]

That's okay. I think we all needed the rest, anyway. [It's been an... interesting past few days, hasn't it?] All three of us [Leeroy, included!], useless lumps on the couch. There's nothing wrong with that.

[She opens her mouth to make an addendum, but something makes her hesitate. The pause is deafening, but more so because Elle pierces cleanly through it only a few seconds later, surprising herself.]

Besides... I kind of liked you laying on my lap.

[coalheart]

[What dangerous words.

They stir up a number of feelings in him, ones he's tried to avoid for so long. A little too late now.]

... Good.

That's good.

[animalqueen]

[The fact that he says that, simple and straightforward as the words are, make her feel happy. She pokes him a little playfully on the shoulder.]

You like laying like this more than being a fluffy cat?

[coalheart]

Why not both?

[He gives a shrug with his shoulders.]

I'd still be me either way.

[animalqueen]

Yeah, but you've got to remember that I can't change shape like you; I wouldn't know if it makes sense to prefer one over the other.

[She pauses, glancing over at Leeroy who's quietly sleeping next to him.]

Sometimes I wonder if you're really comfortable all by yourself, out here at night. I left you a blanket, but all you do is sleep on it.

[Cats......]

[coalheart]

Well, if one has fur, having another piece of cloth on top makes one feel stuffy.

And I'm comfortable, really. I'd have no trouble raising an objection if that wasn't the case.

[animalqueen]

Well, good. Be sure to raise an objection if you are uncomfortable, because I'm not going to be responsible for you catching a cold in the middle of winter.

[coalheart]

... You already do too much.