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Gabrielle "Elle" Grayson ([personal profile] animalqueen) wrote in [community profile] finalflight2016-12-09 12:47 pm
Entry tags:

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.

----------


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
coalheart: (pic#10815417)

[personal profile] coalheart 2016-12-11 04:06 am (UTC)(link)
[Instead of a bruised and beaten man that was laying on the couch, there is, instead a striking black cat that has taken his place.

The cat, Leeroy. Its presence was more preferable compared to his form as a bird or as a man. Corvus hadn't changed into a different form for a long time, but felines, he isn't unfamiliar with. Humans tended to show some sympathy for cats in comparison to birds. So throughout the night he draws from his memory and experience on how to become a cat. And he's successful.

The black cat's tail waves back and forth as it lays on its stomach, eyes closed. His ears twitch every now and then and even more when he is alerted to Elle's voice. He opens his eyes and with some difficulty gets on his hind legs to let Elle see him.

He muses, of course that she won't figure it out right away because she's still having roadblocks to believing what she sees.
]
coalheart: (pic#10815427)

[personal profile] coalheart 2016-12-11 04:19 am (UTC)(link)
[... If he could sigh, he would. Corvus considers speaking with his inner voice, but decides against it. She'd keep asking more questions. So he'll speak with his mouth even though he's a cat. He can still use his human voice.]

Corvus.

[He moves away from her hand, scratching his head and lays down on his stomach again.]

I'm still here you know.
coalheart: (Default)

[personal profile] coalheart 2016-12-11 04:33 am (UTC)(link)
[His tail moves back and forth impatiently.]

... I thought you'd prefer a cat. Rather than a man.

[And for once, he actually thinks stuff through and adds:]

If a person happened to come into your apartment, a stray feline would be easier to explain rather than a stray man.
coalheart: (pic#10815445)

[personal profile] coalheart 2016-12-11 04:46 am (UTC)(link)
[He does and doesn't. But he supposes that there isn't any point in talking about what he does and doesn't understand (not yet anyways). The tail settles down and he closes his eyes briefly. He hates to admit it, but being a cat is rather comfortable. Probably all the body fat.]

If you want a warning, I will tell you that I can take any form that I wish as long as I can comprehend it. Inanimate objects, of course, are as you people would say, "out the window."

[... Not meant to be a pun really, in regards to her own broken window.]

I limit myself, however. It's just easier that way.
coalheart: (pic#10815403)

[personal profile] coalheart 2016-12-11 05:07 am (UTC)(link)
... I like them. Crows are quite intelligent on their own you know.

[There's a quietness when he gives his reply. He remembers what happened to the others on the Aubel grounds. He had lead them to their deaths. Of course, among his time with the flock, many have come and gone with each passing season. But they died natural deaths. What the others suffered, that was not of this earth.

It had been a long while since he felt something like regret.
]

They accept me even though they know what I am.
coalheart: (pic#10815421)

[personal profile] coalheart 2016-12-11 05:49 am (UTC)(link)
No.

[The black cat lowers its head.]

The cold killed them.

[No more, no less. He does not need to confuse the girl more with his attempted murder of a girl, his fight against another creature who assaulted him and his companions with those ugly and sickening emotions.]
coalheart: (pic#10815432)

[personal profile] coalheart 2016-12-11 06:20 am (UTC)(link)
[Pity is odd. He doesn't want to accept it, but he won't push it away either.]

You're letting me stay here for the time being even though I broke your window.

It's more than enough.
coalheart: (Default)

[personal profile] coalheart 2016-12-11 06:37 am (UTC)(link)
... You could just call me Corvus.

[Man, he needs to lighten up. But as for food...]

... Something sweet. I don't need to eat your cat's rations.
coalheart: (pic#10815406)

[personal profile] coalheart 2016-12-11 07:09 am (UTC)(link)
[He doesn't say anything for a few minutes. But when he does...]

... Elle.




Like the letter.
coalheart: (Default)

[personal profile] coalheart 2016-12-11 07:43 am (UTC)(link)
Why not? [Gabrielle sounds fine to him. But ah, a pink thing...]

...

[His cat paw reaches out to pat the pink macaron. And then he pulls it towards him and starts nibbling on it. Because he's a cat, it's probably more adorable than it's supposed to be even though he's technically an abomination.

And by his silent consuming, it seems like he's enjoying himself for the first time in a few days.
]
coalheart: (pic#10815427)

[personal profile] coalheart 2016-12-11 07:58 am (UTC)(link)







[The cat looks up and makes a face.]

I'm eating.

[That's as good as a "NOPE."]
coalheart: (pic#10815424)

[personal profile] coalheart 2016-12-11 08:00 am (UTC)(link)
I told you I wasn't going to touch you.

Why do you want to touch me?

[aaaaaand ruined]

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