Mari verch Llewelyn/Abel Paré (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
constantasthenorthernstar) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capesize2012-06-21 08:00 am
constantasthenorthernstar) wrote in capesize2012-06-21 08:00 am
Entry tags:
[Open, the wonderful thing about tiggers is tiggers will fuck up your day]
[Okay, so you're in the future.
Okay, so everyone you've ever known is dead.
Okay, so this godammed French motherfuck keeps calling you a coward. Mari glowers at the text in front of her and turns another page of 'Ambiguity and Freedom.' Right now, the world has her in a weird limbo between rage and utter sadness. It seems to have equaled out to numbed pain. She is sitting on the edge of the indoor lake (why do they have a large, square indoor lake with a slide going into it?) and is kicking her feet in it. The water tastes awful, but the alcohol area has supplied her with three bottles of wine to quench her thirst instead.
One and a half are already empty.
Okay, so soon you need to go find more wine.
Okay, so maybe it's only being drunk that's stopping you from a breakdown.
This happened before. When Rhys died and everyone left her. It was easiest, being drunk or healing until she couldn't stand. Exhaustion and alcohol are the two best cures for grief. Unless she cuts off her own hand, she can't get exhausted from healing here.
Well now, there's a plan.
Okay, so you're very drunk.
Mari takes another swig from the bottle and lies down with the book on her chest. Her bare feet remain in the water, she's left staring up at the blinding lights of the ceiling. Okay, so you're alone. You were before, she tells herself. It's just that now, it's obvious.]
I'm the only one of me, [she says quietly to herself.
It's okay. Here is better than her world. With or without anyone else.]
Okay, so everyone you've ever known is dead.
Okay, so this godammed French motherfuck keeps calling you a coward. Mari glowers at the text in front of her and turns another page of 'Ambiguity and Freedom.' Right now, the world has her in a weird limbo between rage and utter sadness. It seems to have equaled out to numbed pain. She is sitting on the edge of the indoor lake (why do they have a large, square indoor lake with a slide going into it?) and is kicking her feet in it. The water tastes awful, but the alcohol area has supplied her with three bottles of wine to quench her thirst instead.
One and a half are already empty.
Okay, so soon you need to go find more wine.
Okay, so maybe it's only being drunk that's stopping you from a breakdown.
This happened before. When Rhys died and everyone left her. It was easiest, being drunk or healing until she couldn't stand. Exhaustion and alcohol are the two best cures for grief. Unless she cuts off her own hand, she can't get exhausted from healing here.
Well now, there's a plan.
Okay, so you're very drunk.
Mari takes another swig from the bottle and lies down with the book on her chest. Her bare feet remain in the water, she's left staring up at the blinding lights of the ceiling. Okay, so you're alone. You were before, she tells herself. It's just that now, it's obvious.]
I'm the only one of me, [she says quietly to herself.
It's okay. Here is better than her world. With or without anyone else.]