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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[mentally screeches]

What? No, that's not what I meant.

[Don't you dare... joke(???) about such a thing! That face! Why would you change that face!?]

Well, Elle.

Good to know you accept me with fur, feathers, and facial hair, but not with wrinkles.

[He does seem to be talking and jesting more easily, as if Elle makes it possible. The ghost of a smile seems to be upon him again.]

Worry not. I stay as I am. Making specific changes can be difficult on its own, never mind switching from one form to another.

[She groans.] Don't say it like that; you're making me out to be some vain creature. [That little smile, though, she can tell he's joking. She's not even close to actually annoyed, instead feeling glad that he seems to have relaxed a little more as time has passed by for them.]

I was just curious. I don't expect you to change just because I tell you to, and I wouldn't reject you no matter how you looked. I'm stubborn like that.

[So there!]

[And with a straight face...]

I could probably look like you if I wanted.

[this is terrible]

[Corvus that is like the plot to an alien bodysnatcher movie or something.

She squints at him.]

You wouldn't.

No. No I wouldn't.

[He glances straight ahead as they walk forward.]

I wouldn't look half as good.

[CORVUS, WHY.... Elle's cheeks flush more readily this time (and she was doing so well, too), and she copies him by directing her gaze straight forward.]

Um, you- [She's trying to think of something witty to say to careen the conversation into something less embarrassing! But! She can't think of anything! Why is writing words down so much easier than trying to wrangle them off of her tongue?]

You... You're totally trying to embarrass me on purpose, aren't you? [A stab in the dark, she can never tell with him; though she has noticed that Corvus has a very unique, deadpan sense of humor sometimes.]

... I think so.

[He says, as if his own actions are occurring to him right at that moment.]

Been trying a lot more lately.

Edited 2016-12-21 16:53 (UTC)

[How on Earth is she supposed to respond to that? Should she be flattered or annoyed or amused? All of the above? Corvus, why.]

Is... it because you're sprouting a sense of humor now?

[Still not looking directly at him, nope.]

It's a good way to communicate more naturally.

[Clinical as ever, but he has a point!]

Wouldn't know if it just began to show up or if it had been there before.

It isn't... natural if you're having to force yourself to pay people compliments. [She says it in a way that reveals she doesn't really think of it like that, but rather is taking apart his words because it's less embarrassing that way.] Or tease them for the sake of making things more "natural".

But I think it's just beginning to show up. You didn't exactly joke very much the first week you lived with me.

[He glances at her from the corner of his eye and shrugs.]

Not much to joke about in that situation.

But I got better.

[Better as in physically or in other aspects, that's left up in the air.]

A lot of men joke about painful things as a way of dealing with it. A lot of characters in books, too, but the authors usually play-up that aspect of them...

[She catches herself before she starts rambling. She finally does look over at him, though.]

You did. I'm glad.

[The heavy question of when Corvus will leave or not still hangs in the air, balancing on a string. He lets the silence settle between them, more comfortable than in the past days. The night is dark and cold and there are other people around them, but to Corvus, it feels like there's just him and Elle walking down the street.

Is this how humans felt with their companions? Being able to create a world within the one they lived in?]

... It's a dark night.

[And so he starts again with that.]

You wouldn't be able to go out by yourself this way would you?

[It is dark, and cold. But Elle feels comfortable walking down the street with Corvus. Her thoughts parallel his own; they may as well have been in their own little world, as she pays little to no mind to anyone else around them.

At the question, she looks at him.]

Well, I could. I probably wouldn't feel as comfortable if you weren't here with me, though.

You could probably get animals to guard you if you felt the need wouldn't you?

[It's an interesting question to bring up because aside from maybe him and Leeroy, Corvus doesn't see Elle draw upon her pull of earthly creatures. It wouldn't be all that practical in London, but he wonders if it's just something Elle lives with involuntarily.]

...If it really came down to it, yeah. [It's not something she dwells on very often, but she has thought about it before.] But it's not like I live in the middle of the jungle -- just a concrete one. There aren't a lot of ferocious animals in London to readily call on, but I mean... no one likes a flock of birds pecking at their eyes, you know? Or a hoard of cockroaches climbing up their legs.

[She shudders a little at the thought, grossing herself out. Because bugs, gross.]

... So in a way you'd be dangerous in the right environment.

[He muses aloud although it's kind of to himself. But Corvus realizes that he kind of likes Elle as she is. Potential or not, that wasn't what drew him to her. He knows that now.]

I... guess? [She wrinkles her brow a bit.] Not that I ever want to be described as dangerous. I'm more Disney Princess than Angry Amazon Animal Whisperer.

[You know she's trying to make a point when she actually describes herself as a Disney Princess.]

You'll have to let me watch that. Disney I mean.

[He might have seen bits and pieces over the years of watching the Winters family, but never the whole picture.

That could change now.

They're walking in a more desolate and quiet street, very few people, save for some night walkers who are out and about on their own business. Nearby there's seems to be a group of young men, smoking, laughing crudely...

Corvus stays close to Elle.]

[She laughs lightly.] Be careful what you wish for. I still have my old VHS tapes and a player from when I was little. You'll be stuck watching all of the animated classics with me.

[The thought is amusing, and she thinks she would like that, just to see what Corvus might think of them. She's so lost in this idea that she doesn't notice when a few of the young men they're passing seem to take interest in the duo, eying them critically for a moment, as if deciding on something.

She does notice when a couple of them saunter up to them, one of them calling out, Looks like you two are lost. Elle looks over at them, and they don't exactly look like Concerned Citizens, so she's fine with ignoring them and continuing to walk on. Hey, where do you think you're going, huh? the other calls after, closing the distance easily enough.]

[Trash.

It's the first word that runs through Corvus' mind as the delinquents try to invade their personal space. Elle's not saying anything or looking at them and so he tries to follow suit. There's one way he can deter them, he believes or at least hopes to. He hasn't used his whispers in the past few weeks, there was no need to. But if it keeps them away...]

(GO AWAY. GET LOST.)

[An attempt is made. Corvus is caught off guard by how strongly his suggestion comes off, but weak in its execution. One of them young men stops looking dumbfounded and then his brows furrow in anger.]

"What the bloody hell you just say to me you son of a bitch?"

[Another joins in, having heard the whisper, thinking it's a provocation.]

"Wanna get messed up along with your girl too, eh? We ain't get lost boys, we're gonna make you wish you was only lost!"

[Corvus stops in his tracks.

That was a threat.

He doesn't take kindly to those.]

[All of this was escalating a lot faster than Elle would like. One moment they're having a nice chat, walking along the street, and the next, they're being accosted by a couple of shady delinquents. And she'd be more confused about the fact that one of them is accusing Corvus of insulting them, when it was more than clear that he didn't say anything at all.

She finds herself gripping at Corvus' arm, out of anxiety and tension alone. This is not how she wanted tonight to end.]

Calm down, he didn't say anything. We don't want any trouble, all right?

[It's the best she can do to attempt to defuse the situation.]

... I did.

[Corvus turns around to look at the men. His eyes have turned dark.]

I told them to leave.

[One of the young men closes the distance between himself and Corvus, getting up real close and personal.]

"Yeah? What if we don't wanna leave you tosser? S'alright, we don't need you, the girlie there'll do just fine!"

[And with that, Corvus shakes Elle off and stands in front of her. His protective move causes a mocking, "Ooooohh!" from the delinquents.]

[And this was definitely getting out of hand. Why would Corvus say that he told them to leave? Why just provoke them further?]

Corvus... let's just go. This isn't worth-

[One of the bolder men (or, shall we say, one of the dumber ones) is impulsive enough to shift to the side and reach right round Corvus, grabbing at Elle's arm.]

"Ain't worth it, you were gonna say? How do you know, love? You haven't had the chance to get to know us better yet."

[Elle is Not Amused, feeling something more akin to an alarming anger than fear.] Let go of me- [She starts, trying to shake her arm free.]

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