everything to help you sleep // { lex & denali }
Nov 30, 2018 23:29:28 GMT -5
Post by aya on Nov 30, 2018 23:29:28 GMT -5
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what is it like to be empty?
full of only echoes and my body caving in
full of only echoes and my body caving in
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Kicking rocks doesn't really get old until you either run out of rocks or you run out of frustration. The last good-sized fucker skitters into the tar pit with a quiet plorp! and Lex Lionel, now thoroughly out of distractions, is resigned to unrolling her yoga mat. Sitting down on restless legs is the hardest thing she's done today. Inhale. Exhale. There's no point in searching for inner peace — she won't find it. But she's got the time to kill anyhow, and breathing is better than not breathing. Obviously.
She pulls the champagne bottle into her lap, examining her find. Lex stumbled upon it — literally, she kicked it with the toe of Minx Ahlstrom's combat boots — on her third lap around the tar pools, sometime after she'd collected the two dead boys' useful supplies, and sometime before it dawned on her that with no knives at her disposal, she'd have a hell of a time getting much whittling done. She's already picked off half the yellow shield label, bits of the sticker rubbed into anxious confetti beneath her restless hands. The little that remains is the name (Dom Perig...ue? — wasn't that a Gamemaker once?) and a small gold star. She was saving the foil for last, but the sticker is giving her diminishing returns, so her thumbs turn their attention to the papery black metal that wraps the cork.
Quiet footsteps break the silence, and honestly? Lex hopes their owner is here to fight, because she could use a break from the agitated nothing that's consumed her afternoon. She glances without standing — surely blasting her would-be assailant in the face with a spray of champagne would buy her half a second to get her feet. Her eyes meet Denali's, and she opens her mouth to say —
Sorry? But she isn't. You're welcome? Denali would never thank her for what she did. Glad to see you? But the words don't come.
Shrugging and gesturing at the bottle in her hands, she settles on a brusque "Found this."
She pulls the champagne bottle into her lap, examining her find. Lex stumbled upon it — literally, she kicked it with the toe of Minx Ahlstrom's combat boots — on her third lap around the tar pools, sometime after she'd collected the two dead boys' useful supplies, and sometime before it dawned on her that with no knives at her disposal, she'd have a hell of a time getting much whittling done. She's already picked off half the yellow shield label, bits of the sticker rubbed into anxious confetti beneath her restless hands. The little that remains is the name (Dom Perig...ue? — wasn't that a Gamemaker once?) and a small gold star. She was saving the foil for last, but the sticker is giving her diminishing returns, so her thumbs turn their attention to the papery black metal that wraps the cork.
Quiet footsteps break the silence, and honestly? Lex hopes their owner is here to fight, because she could use a break from the agitated nothing that's consumed her afternoon. She glances without standing — surely blasting her would-be assailant in the face with a spray of champagne would buy her half a second to get her feet. Her eyes meet Denali's, and she opens her mouth to say —
Sorry? But she isn't. You're welcome? Denali would never thank her for what she did. Glad to see you? But the words don't come.
Shrugging and gesturing at the bottle in her hands, she settles on a brusque "Found this."
[ still rolling for words while sad gay shit happens ]
RbrpotUlD1-4
[ nope ]
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