poly_chromatic | 034 x 430 // text // plan your own...

[She trashed the apartment this morning. The anxiety mounted above and beyond what could she could handle, that knot of glass and tar inside of her chest unbearable, the crying inside of her head pulsating too heavily. It's been building there, behind her eyes and deep in her stomach and lungs, for weeks now. She's been counting down to this day, or maybe it's been creeping up to her. Climbing over her, choking her.

The wreckage is inevitable, furniture overturned and porcelain shards scattered across the floor. Her dog is clawing at the bathroom door now, and for some reason that she doesn't understand, she has this to share with the network,]

CAROLENA MARÍANNA MORIR
09/08/1986 — 03/26/2011
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR .

[[ooc; This post is a catchall for Carla's suicide. This is a blanket trigger warning for the entirety of this post and any comments that may follow. She will answer any network comments, but it will be timelined to before her final episode. Action from folks involved in this fiasco are welcome, as well as any initial visitors on Sunday (it takes 24 hours for the dead to wake up.)

By the way, it's her birthday. She's 30 today.]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She's strayed just fine all on her own.]

It's how the Reanimate system reacts to anything that isn't raw meat.

[What a waste of perfectly good cake.]

So you're neither fish nor fowl these days. How is that working for you?

[It must have been a while, considering what he saw when they had lunch together.]

[Her head falls back with a cackle.]

I barely sleep, I never dream. I'm always hungry, I'm always cold.

It's like you're getting an all access tour of the old homestead without finishing your death yet. Well done, you.

[Have another bite of cake.]

You prick.

[But she's still laughing and she takes her cake without a fuss.]

Did you want me to cry and lament the waste of a beautiful life?

[He has a last bite of cake and sets the fork down.]

Perhaps I should gaze at you soulfully and tell you how I'm here for you when you need me and you don't have to hurt yourself when you have such good friends.

I bet you couldn't. Not with a straight face.

[And in that she would just be wrong. He composes his expression into a facade of sorrow and worry.]

Carla, it hurts me to see you here, I can't understand how you could do this to yourself. Haven't you thought of all the people who care about you?

[Then the facade breaks and he snorts.] Ask for something hard next time.

Maybe a proposal next time.

[Although maybe it's Carla who can't keep a straight face through these things.]

[He gives a little hissing laugh.] I'm too good for you.

Now, now, don't insult yourself like that.

[Now he really laughs.] Too bad you started out human.

I hear that a lot.

[Her vampire ex-husband, her other demon friends. She was a popular girl for being such a dysfunctional bitch.]

[Because she's a dysfunctional bitch.]

Now that we've had our warm and fuzzy moment, before I get quite ill, I'm going to finish my lunch, and I assume you're going to want some. Then I'm going to walk out of here and you can look me up when they see fit to untie you.

I could eat all of it, if you're feeling too delicate.

[Translation: your assumption is correct.]

Tch, do I look like I'm on a diet? [Yet strangely, there seems to be almost an entire filet when he cuts into it again. He won't manifest loaves and fishes proportions for the lunch, but there's definitely going to be more there than there should be.]

Maybe like you need one.

[But that's just flirtation at this point.]

Then again, you are on vacation.

Sloth and gluttony are just hobbies. [Everyone loves a smartass demon, he knows it.] And I have brilliant dreams.

[Scuse you, gluttony is a way of life. Or unlife. Or whatever.]

You're just rubbing it in now.

[She's not bothered though.]

You know it. Now what did I put under this last lid...? Any thoughts?

[Thoughts? She bites her lower lip thoughtfully before sniffing at the air--(She has a better sense of smell than most people realize. Reanimates hunt by smell, not by sight.)]

I could spend all day guessing, you'd change it just so I'd be wrong.

Or I'd change it so you were right. I suppose you'll never know.

[Voila, steak tartare, and even he's not sure if it's a kind gesture or the cruelest yet.]

[It's cruel for a reason he won't understand, and she gazes at the plate quietly for a moment, expression wistful.]

That looks good.

[Good enough. What kind of world would it be if he started doing good?]

I'll let you have a bite. [But one for himself first as a matter of principle, then a bite held out to her on his fork.]

[A terrible one, really.

She takes the piece from him, something about her mood suddenly dragged very deep down. Her eyes don't lift again when she stops chewing.]

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