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Nov. 8th, 2004 05:21 pmShe is laying on her back on the roof watching the stars explode. She only finds the cycle of death and rebirth trapped in a puerperal loop a little ironic.
"...zut alors..."
She sits up, takes another drag of her cigarette, and rests her forehead in her palm. When she exhales, it is a chaos of curves and hard angles that linger just in front of her face. She fans the smoke away.
"...I should have stayed in England." She looks up at the stars again. "I should have stayed, married that Weasley, et had a multitude of affairz for the side of light in the name of information gathering." She folds her legs up against her chest and rests her cheek against knee. When she remembers to finally flick her cigarette, she watches the ash fall and loses herself in thought as she stares off into space. "...I could have had a redwood..."
She looks down again, taking another drag. This time the images have more of a curve and move gracefully away from her face. "I am not made for sadness, you know," she addresses the stars again and where ever the Landlord hides Himself. "I am me. Et here I am, sad et alone. Ma cherie understandz, but ma roux needed me. He loved me et needed me." Laying her cheek back on her knee, she stares out across the lake. "You made me beautiful. You made me what I am. Why do you make me sad again? Why? I am confused."
She snorts and rubs at her eyes. "Fucking Bar. It makez me religious."
"It doez not matter, you know. What he feelz. I love him. I try my best to be loyal. I tried very hard. A month! I have been very good--it doez not matter one bit. But he iz...he iz what he iz. He believez in the end all and be all. I tried. I tried to show him that he waz my man. I tried. I let him drool on me. That iz love.
"He iz so...normal. Well, in comparison. He...he likez to sharpen his pencils himself. Et he likes his coffee brewed in the kitchen, not by magic. Et when he looks at me, his eye crinkle et I know he seez a woman not--not a half breed mutt. Et he grinz in his sleep when I say I love him. Et sometimez, when he thinkz I am asleep, he liez next to me, et strokez my hair, et...et tellz me all the thingz he waz afraid to tell me. That I will die et leave him. That I will find someone better. That I--that I do not know what love iz..."
She stares up at the stars, lost and confused. The cigarette burns down to her finger tips, and she tosses it away with a start.
"...zut alors..."
She sits up, takes another drag of her cigarette, and rests her forehead in her palm. When she exhales, it is a chaos of curves and hard angles that linger just in front of her face. She fans the smoke away.
"...I should have stayed in England." She looks up at the stars again. "I should have stayed, married that Weasley, et had a multitude of affairz for the side of light in the name of information gathering." She folds her legs up against her chest and rests her cheek against knee. When she remembers to finally flick her cigarette, she watches the ash fall and loses herself in thought as she stares off into space. "...I could have had a redwood..."
She looks down again, taking another drag. This time the images have more of a curve and move gracefully away from her face. "I am not made for sadness, you know," she addresses the stars again and where ever the Landlord hides Himself. "I am me. Et here I am, sad et alone. Ma cherie understandz, but ma roux needed me. He loved me et needed me." Laying her cheek back on her knee, she stares out across the lake. "You made me beautiful. You made me what I am. Why do you make me sad again? Why? I am confused."
She snorts and rubs at her eyes. "Fucking Bar. It makez me religious."
"It doez not matter, you know. What he feelz. I love him. I try my best to be loyal. I tried very hard. A month! I have been very good--it doez not matter one bit. But he iz...he iz what he iz. He believez in the end all and be all. I tried. I tried to show him that he waz my man. I tried. I let him drool on me. That iz love.
"He iz so...normal. Well, in comparison. He...he likez to sharpen his pencils himself. Et he likes his coffee brewed in the kitchen, not by magic. Et when he looks at me, his eye crinkle et I know he seez a woman not--not a half breed mutt. Et he grinz in his sleep when I say I love him. Et sometimez, when he thinkz I am asleep, he liez next to me, et strokez my hair, et...et tellz me all the thingz he waz afraid to tell me. That I will die et leave him. That I will find someone better. That I--that I do not know what love iz..."
She stares up at the stars, lost and confused. The cigarette burns down to her finger tips, and she tosses it away with a start.
