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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[A few hours pass. There are no other crows in sight.

As night falls, everything is silent and static. Time flows, but remains still. The balcony doesn't change except...

Someone is sitting against the wall, knees pulled in and arms draped over it. He's dressed in dark clothing as always, as if nothing's changed. He looks ahead of in in the distance.

Waiting. Hoping.]

[It's getting late, and Elle is so tired. Maybe she really will go to bed earlier tonight, instead of staying up, restless. Maybe a sense of calmness will finally settle into her bones, and she can sleep. Maybe her dreams won't bother her, and when she wakes up, maybe she'll be a little closer to her old self in the morning.

Maybe.

She's cleaning out her mug and drying it off in the kitchen, preparing it for tomorrow morning's inevitable cup of coffee. Finishing her task, she moves over to where Leeroy is, seated on the couch. Seated in the same place he used to nap.]

C'mon, little Paladin. Let's call it a night.

[But when she reaches down to pick him up, Leeroy stands up and meows. As if he's heard something, but it doesn't make the feline wary or skittish... it makes him curious, like something familiar has returned. He jumps off the couch and trots over to the closed balcony doors, tail in the air. He sits. Meows at it. Paws at it, as if it were a scratching post.]

Leeroy... there aren't any birds out there this time of night.

[What a weird cat. At least that'll be a constant in her life for awhile now. She walks over to the balcony and opens it a crack, just so he can see. She doesn't step out just yet.

Leeroy slips through and saunters out, turning and disappearing out of sight. She can hear purring from where she stands, and now she's just... confused.]

Edited 2016-12-22 16:17 (UTC)

[The meowing is familiar. Without looking at Leeroy, Corvus reaches out to pet the cat with one finger, before putting his hand down. He wasn't sure how to return, really. He couldn't very well crash through her window again. He was enough trouble as it is.

She's so close and yet he still feels so far. How does he close the distance? How does he say the words he should say without sounding foolish?

Millions of possibilities run through his mind. He could leave again. He could sit there without making a sound waiting for Elle to come to him. But then he wouldn't say anything. He can't say anything. And maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to...?

There's a soft voice coming from the direction Leeroy just went to. A singing one, deep, throaty, a bit choppy as if it hadn't been used in a while. It's a message to her.]

I'll be the one who takes your coat off, one to take the blame...

[A pause. Does she hear him? He continues at the same volume.]

You'll be the one who keeps me sober, one to keep me sane and you say
Shut up, shut up, every time I say it

And I'd cut my fingers to the bone,
And I'd split my sides in for you

Tonight, we throw ourselves away
And we make it every time
When I thought I was ok
You said I was alright...

[She's about to open her mouth to tell Leeroy to come back inside, when she hears a voice. A soft singing, low and familiar. She knows it; she couldn't have forgotten it, that voice and the song it's weaving. Elle freezes, her hand still clasped around the balcony door knob. Her grip tightens with anxiety and something else (hope again? Why did she keep doing this to herself?), and her knuckles nearly turn white.

She's afraid, pure and simple. If she steps out and sees nothing, she's really going to cry this time. She just wants herself to let it go, it's been days already, she should slowly be returning to feeling normal again; if she steps out and sees Leeroy and no one else, she just knows she's going straight back to square one.

She could just tell Leeroy to come in and close the door. She could go to bed and pretend she didn't hear anything at all. But what if she was wrong. What if, such a terrible phrase for a human being to utter to themselves. What ifs were the reasons why hearts were broken, why illusions were shattered so easily, like panes of glass.

But the what ifs are always, in the end, what drives humanity to act. And Elle is nothing short of human, in every way imaginable. It compels her, as it should. As it ought to.

And so with a surge of bravery (or was it foolishness?) she swings open the door fully and steps out. There's nothing slow about her movement. If she's wrong, she wants to get it over with as soon as possible. She turns, and...

There he is, sitting, waiting.

She doesn't know how to feel. Is she imagining things? Has she become so tired that her mind is making her see what she wants to see? How does she know he's real?]

...Corvus? [This time, she does breathe out his name. It's the last drop of courage she feels she has.]

[He doesn't look at her.

His head moves slightly as if bowing down. He doesn't want to see the kind of pain he had inflicted on her because he'd hurt again, she'd hurt again, and...

He continues his song singing in more of a whisper, sounding like he'll fade away at any second.]

As the night comes crashing down
We catch ourselves a line
Yeah we're only makin' out
If we make it out alright...

I'm home.

[Home.

There's something about that word, the one he's never used to describe her flat before, that sparks something in her again. Suddenly she doesn't want to stand and hope that he's real. She wants to make certain of it herself -- she wants to grab him and shake him and cling to him and force him back into reality, if she has to.

Her feet move and she walks over to him, then practically collapses to her knees, pulling him into a hug. He's solid. He's warm. He's real.

She's feeling those tears finally threatening to fall, the dam starting to creak after these past few days of stress. She doesn't seem to care this time.]

Corvus, you... you...

[One hand around his back, the other had been gripping the front of shirt so tightly, just to make sure he didn't slip away. She feels such an odd mixture of happiness and relief, swirling inside an array of fond irritation and exasperation.]

You jerk! [She hits him with that hand on his chest, weakly, trying to make a point.] Why did you leave?! You left me here all by myself. [She felt so alone, but god, now he's back and there's no way in hell she's letting go. She buries her face in his shoulder, shaking her head.] Don't do that to me.

... You're still mad.

[A hand reaches up to touch Elle's head and then run its fingers through her hair, stroking her warmly, softly. God, she was warm.]

... Did you get sick again?

I... [How does she even respond? She has so many things she could say, so many things she would be justified in saying, but it all comes to her in a jumble. A tangled mess of emotions.

She can feel his touch, his fingers running through her hair. There's something oddly intoxicating about it, yet calming. She raises her head to look at him, tears in her eyes.]

I'm not... sick, I was upset because you left. You're not doing that again. [A desperate please hangs in the air.]

I missed you.

[The look in his eyes soften when he sees that there are tears. Corvus uses the back of his hand to wipe away the corner of one eye and then the other. He doesn't say anything about not leaving again. Deep down, despite his longings, despite finding the place he can return to, he knows that there is an end to everything. There will even be an end to this.

But for now, he wants an end to her sadness. And if that meant just being here, just letting her pull him into new experiences he was too stubborn to be part of before then...]

I'm here.

[His touch is gentle, wiping her tears away. Usually she would be embarrassed, but right now she's too glad to have him back to care what she looks like.

And so Elle finally puts her arms around him proper, pulling him into a tight hug, her head on his shoulder.]

...Good.

[He can probably feel her heart beating in her chest. The warmth of his body is so comforting, and she thinks that finally, yes, she'll be able to sleep peacefully tonight.]

What... what made you change your mind?

[She embraces him and lets her. After everything he's done (and will do... maybe), she still touches him. Corvus hesitantly brings one arm around her shoulder. A one handed hug. One of the few times he's shown affection and he finds it's always been towards.

Why did he come back? What DID change his mind...?]

... I...

[And suddenly there's a gurgling sound from his stomach that interrupts the moment.]

...

... Not that.

[She blinks at the gurgling noise, only realizing a second or two later that it's his stomach. She leans back, and she can't help herself. After all the stress and tiredness, she just... laughs.]

You... [She tries to stifle her laughter.] You haven't been eating very well, have you?

My stomach's bigger like this.

[Is what he mutters, but it's in a warmer tone than usual.]

As for why I came back...

... There wouldn't be anyone else to read with me.

[She grins at him, feeling a warmness blossoming within her chest. It was such a simplistic sort of answer. A very Corvus sort of answer. But she hears it for what it is, or at least what she believes he's saying.]

Yeah, no one makes a better audio book than me.

[Her look becomes fond and wistful.]

And we still have plenty of books to go through, at least until you get sick of my voice narrating.

I won't get sick of it.

[He puts his arm down to drape it over his knee again, sitting back just to look at her.]

Not for a long time.

Well, hopefully not for a very long time. [And hopefully it'll be a long time before the thought of leaving crosses his mind again.

She stands to her feet, and reaches out to offer him a hand to stand. Leeroy looks up at her, having settled next to Corvus while all of this had been happening.]

Why don't we go inside? It's cold out here. I can fix you something to eat.

... Sure.

[He accepts her hand and pushes himself up to stand up.]

I'll probably sleep for a long time. I flew around for quite a while.

[She can't help but give his hand the tiniest of squeezes when he stands, before she releases it. Elle's glad to have him back.

She leads him (and Leeroy) back inside the flat. It's warm and cozy (and feels less empty, now), and she closes the doors behind her.]

...Where did you go?

[Uh oh, we're in trouble... Unless he remains vague. Which he does. The interior of the flat is comforting and he collapses on the couch in his familiar spot.]

Somewhere far away. I just settled among some trees to... Think.

Oh... [Elle has no real reason to doubt him. After all, it sounds like something he would do. She moves to the kitchen, to fix him up something to eat.

...Elle realizes she doesn't have much. She's due to go grocery shopping again soon, so Corvus will just have to settle with her pouring him a bowl of cereal for now.. Eventually, she brings the bowl over to him, and a spoon.]

Um... hey, about what happened that night... [She's almost afraid to bring it up, after everything. But it can't be ignored, despite his reaction last time.] I wasn't trying to upset you.

[He stares at the spoon... Okay, he's seen Elle use this before so it's not like he can't, fingers are just easier... The spoon is picked up, used to scoop some cereal and put it in his mouth. He chews slowly as Elle talks before he swallows and answers, shaking his head.]

I scared you.

[~~That's right, Cor, use the spoon.~~ She frowns down at him, then decides to sit next to him on the couch.]

The situation scared me. Your... reaction to it scared me. [She casts her glance to the side, looking at nothing in particular.]

I know... humans are confusing, even hypocritical. It's one of our less flattering traits. But I don't want you to think that ever having to rely on violence like that is your default state. You can be better than that. That's why I reacted the way I did.

Edited 2016-12-22 23:09 (UTC)

[Another spoonful goes down. He balances the bowl of cereal on his lap, staring into it instead of Elle this time.]

If it scares you, I won't do it. I'll try.

[Whether or not it scares him isn't the point, she thinks. The point is knowing the difference between what's acceptable and what isn't; the difference between the compulsion to hurt someone, and to refrain from giving in to those animalistic urges.

But maybe, for now, this was as good of a starting point as any.]

All right. That's all I can ask for.

[She tries to make the subject a little more light-hearted, now that he's said that he'll at least try.]

And it's the very least a "fake" boyfriend of mine can do, is try.

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