Jan. 26th, 2007

slayer_fray: (distant)
Mel stared out over the rooftops for longer than she could keep track of, accurately. Long after her brother's ashes had blown away or settled wherever they weren't going to move from. On her blood soaked clothes, on in her hair, some even into her partially open mouth.

Silently, she turns her back on the skyline and turns to home, holding her scythe in the same hand, and never in the back of her shirt.

Legs the monkey demon greets her with his usual loud partly-angry screech, which gets angrier when she barely seems to hear him and louder when he sees she's heading right back to the window she's spent most of the day coming in and out of.

Mel needs a shower.
slayer_fray: (drowning)
She didn't stop in the bar. She didn't want to talk to anyone. She doesn't even know why she's here. She shouldn't be here.

Oh, right, because she wanted a shower and the window to her broken pipe now goes straight to the bar.

Mel walks straight upstairs at a steady pace, trailing her scythe behind her. Luckily the blood soaking her clothes dried on the journey back home, so she leaves no sticky footprints. Fully dressed in a dress shirt and combat pants, she steps into the shower and turns both taps on full. Then she just stands there, shower curtain still pulled back, and door to her bedroom wide open.

And she waits to start feeling something.

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slayer_fray

March 2013

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