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 Posted: Sat Dec 26, 2009 8:43 pm
Waking up in a hospital was never a good place to be. Not in Elle Hammel's book. Her first, groggy, half-awake thought upon opening her eyes to narrow slits was to worry that perhaps she'd given herself alcohol poisoning at long last. And she'd always been so careful about her drinking! Well, not really. Elle wasn't really careful about anything at all.
But somehow alcohol poisoning didn't really seem to be it, she thought, sitting up slowly, propping herself against the pillows and giving herself and her surroundings a long, measuring stare, tallying it all up, making sure everything was in its proper place. She felt mildly stiff, but not sore or bruised anywhere, aside from a very faint ache in the left side of her chest. No headache, no massive hangover, but an odd sensation that was moving around to the back of her mind, pushed down by other matters. Such as the fact that there was an IV in her arm. That was a little worrying.
To her chagrin she realized that she was wearing one of those annoying, backless hospital gowns, and pulled the tightly-stretched sheets of the hospital bed higher over her legs. She spotted her mother's purse and coat draped over a chair near her bed, but she didn't seem to be nearby. Elle felt a slight pang of anxiety at that. Her mother was always so busy working, she'd probably be pissed that she had to come in and get her errant daughter. It was a relief that she wasn't there to see her wake up; Elle didn't think she could take being berated yet.
What the hell, she thought, feeling a little disoriented as she searched back in her memories for anything that might explain why the ******** she would wake up in a hospital, what could be bad enough that they'd call in her mother. Something weird was going on. The most recent memories were foggy, distant, as though they'd happened a long time ago, or to someone else entirely.
Soon enough her mother was back, but to Elle's surprise, there was no yelling. There wasn't even a disapproving look. Or there might have been, but it was hidden under the tears-- relieved tears, happy tears. Her mother actually hugged her. Elle was a little shellshocked. It didn't help that the story coming out of her mother's mouth sounded like something straight out of an urban legend. Organ trafficking? Really? She'd been missing for HOW long??!
It was a while before she finally left, and Elle sat, staring at a trayful of hospital food as she tried to absorb everything that she'd just been told. It was harder to swallow than the dubious looking meal in her lap.
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Posted: Sun Dec 27, 2009 2:51 pm
Over the past eighteen hours, Micky had memorized the hallways around the hospital, her IV pole clanking along the tiled floor, with it's gimpy wheel that squeaked and shook a little. Now that it was actually light out, she had taken to peeking into the multitude of large rooms, chatting animatedly with nurses and patients alike. It was coming to the point that she spent more time out of her bed than in -- despite the threats of strapping her to the bed (kinky, she'd reply to the cute candy-stripers) she always managed to escape. Because no matter how dull the rest of the hospital was, it was waaaaay more exciting than laying there, pretending to be comatose while the few remaining students in her ward chatted and cried and hugged with her parents.
Mackenzie was bored. It was getting to the point where she didn't care that she had nowhere to go -- anything was better than here!
3:12pm. Artificial light illuminated the hallway that the female half of Gemini occupied at that given moment, its walls and floor looking disappointingly like every other she had trudged through. Giving a loud, dramatic sigh, the redhead leaned her shoulder against the hallway wall, rolling a little to smoosh her face against the wall, tapping her forehead against it. Over and over she rolled, IV cord wrapping around the backless gown, until she half-stumbled into one of the rooms, nearly falling on the bed that her black-haired beauty occupied. "Oops, so sorry, terribly sorry, that was stupid of me," came a half-laughed response, and Micky straightened, smiling winsomely at the occupant of the bed. A smile that froze for a good few seconds as she stared,
"....Elle?"
Her face went white. Her first instinct was to grab her IV pole and start beating her over the head with it, double and triple and jesus christ quadrupedal tap the zombie. But the flush of her cheeks suggested she wasn't a zombie, the tray on her lap sporting greens and suspicious looking jello instead of human flesh and blood. And her neck wasn't broken. Micky swallowed, staring for a few minutes, mouth dry.
What did you SAY to someone who had EATEN you?
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Dec 27, 2009 5:16 pm
Elle didn't touch the food on the tray, halfheartedly picked up a fork and going to poke at the green beans, pulling back at the last moment and putting the fork down again. It was unappetizing, but in spite of her ordeal, she wasn't very hungry, either. She just felt... weird. Not bad, at least-- as well as one could feel after they woke up in the hospital and were informed that they'd been missing for over a year as part of an organ trafficking ring, with no accompanying memories. The dark-haired girl started, looking up as someone tumbled into her room, expecting a nurse or a doctor, certainly not her mother, and was startled that it was another patient.
"No, it's fine..." she shrugged in response to the apology, and quirked an eyebrow at the easygoing nature of the intruder, not particularly perturbed. She blinked as Micky lifted her head, recognizing her-- those jade eyes, that red hair, that mark close to her mouth... And apparently the redhead recognized her too, seemed to know her name. Elle remembered hers as well. Mack. Mackenzie O'Connell. God, yes. She hadn't known her very well and recalled her faintly, just as someone that had seemed pretty cool. Someone she liked. But the look Micky was giving her didn't really put her at ease, and she frowned, her heart beating a little faster. Of course she couldn't remember dying. There was no recollection of being a youma... of killing Mack.
"Yeah, that's me. What's that look for, O'Connell? Do I look dead or something?" she half-joked, but there was little humor in it. She was uncomfortable, the weird feeling nagging at her, but the way that Micky was staring at her started a bit of nausea in the pit of her stomach. The puzzle pieces should be fitting together, but that feeling, and now this look Micky was giving her, made her wonder if all the pieces were even part of the same puzzle. At last, she looked away, down at the tray again. Damn, did she wish she was chopped. Everything made a hell of a lot more sense when she was, at least.
"...it's been a weird couple of hours."
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Posted: Mon Dec 28, 2009 7:52 pm
'Do I look dead or something?'
Well... yeah, to be honest. In fact, you use to look like a flesh-eating zombie. In double fact, you use to look like a flesh-eating zombie who ripped out my jugular. Micky could have laughed at the question -- it was hilarious, the irony of a Barren Pines student saying something like that. But she didn't. In fact, the humor of it barely touched the usually-bright girl, her expression and body tone suddenly wary. It didn't look like Elle was being sarcastic. It didn't look like that statement at all was suppose to be a joke. To be honest, her eyes didn't seem to hold any recollection for her, looking puzzled and uncomfortable. Mack just stared back, her expression turning from fear and apprehension to an awkward, morbid curiosity.
Could it be... she didn't... remember her?
The thought was more painful than if she had been angry Micky had snapped her neck in half like a twig. At least if she were mad, she would remember the nights they had spent together, locked in one of the rooms, the smell of alcohol or smoke wafting from underneath the door. At least she would remember their playful bantering back and forth, teasing jabs at their vices, knowing that neither of them cared if they were drunk or high. At least she'd remember the gentle kisses along her jaw, nipping her ear, the sweet, fake promises they knew they couldn't keep, but whispered anyway. Micky's throat was a little dry.
"Yeah... I know what you mean..."
The redheaded ex-BP student took a small step forward, and in the short time it took to cross the short distance between where she had been and Elle's bed, you could see a definite change in her stance, wary and shocked to confident and carefree. The transition, to anyone watching, would look almost baffling, and to an extent there was quite a reason to be surprised. But as far as transitions went, it wasn't too far out of the ordinary for someone to go from surprised to happy so quickly, especially when seeing a friend.
The only problem was that Micky was faking. Only years of practice saved her as she flopped down at the edge of the bed, leaning back on her palms and giving Elle her best 'winsome smile.' "Don't worry about it, hun," she offered easily, shrugging and looking at her from the corner of her eyes, "... so... you don't... remember anything...? No... memories of the organ-ring?"
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Mon Dec 28, 2009 8:13 pm
Elle let the silence stretch on as Micky continued to stare at her, feeling those eyes on her and wishing that she would look away, say something, leave, do something besides stare at her as if she had six heads. As far as she was concerned, this was a girl that she barely knew, though the harder she struggled to remember, the clearer some things became. Other memories only became foggier. It was frustrating, killing her slowly. She wanted answers, and this silence was unproductive.
Yet somehow she knew that Micky wasn't the one to ask. Not yet. There was a gulf between them that she couldn't bridge, a relationship, a connection that was so shrouded that it blended in to the abyss. It would slowly come to light, but now, a few hours out of the nightmare, Elle's mind was blank.
The sound of Micky's voice startled her from her reverie and she looked up at the redhead, watching her approach. Elle's lips, normally smudged with dark lipstick, were bare, and she licked them self-consciously as she watched Mack adopt a suddenly more familiar demeanor. But the dark-haired girl still did not fully relax, anxiety clenching at her heart uncomfortably. It still felt weird. Off somehow. She didn't know Micky was faking, but it didn't set as well as it could have-- too much had happened beyond those awkward minutes of silence, and there were far too many words that Elle couldn't find.
It was only when Micky flopped back like that, so familiar, that Elle managed a smile. It didn't quite reach her eyes, but the Irish girl's cheer was infectious even if it was fake.
"I won't worry," Elle lied with a wink, lowering her eyes from Micky's to that mark by her mouth. It had been a place she'd enjoyed to kiss. "Not really," she admitted. "I remember some of what happened before that. I remember that I knew you. I think we were friends," she said a little more slowly, ponderously, as she beat against the fog walling off the memories she so desperately wanted to uncover. "I can't get over the feeling that something terrible happened. But I guess that's the whole organ-trafficking thing," Elle shrugged noncommittally, as though she didn't believe it herself.
"I guess you were part of it too? Do you... remember anything?"
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Posted: Tue Dec 29, 2009 4:36 pm
"Aye, we were friends..." Micky replied with a complacent head-nod, making sure to keep her tone light and mildly disinterested. Her green eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling, as if admiring the stucco as Elle talked, occasionally shifting to look at her out of the corner of her eye. For the most part, however, she kept her gaze away from the black-haired girl in the bed beside her, trying not to think of how many times they had sat like this before. She didn't want to look at her, and be reminded of the Elle-that-was. She didn't want to remember the way it had been before 'The Fire,' and definitely didn't want to remember the way it had been after the fire.
It was torture, just sitting there, pretending as if she barely knew her.
Mack's eyes flickered once more, forbiddenly, to the smoker in the bed, her head turning a little further towards her to watch her lick her lips like that, and she smirked when she winked. Even though they had gone through hell, and Elle had ultimately been her downfall in becoming a zombie, she couldn't help but feel a little thrill slide down her spine as she looked at her like that, a dull little ache in her chest reminding not to read too much into it. She ignored it, brushing the feeling away as she leaned in a little, as if she were telling her a secret, staring at her from beneath her lashes. "Well good, you shouldn't worry -- wouldn't want anything to sour that pretty little face 'o yours," she replied in a low, honeyed voice.
In her eyes, there was a certain level of desperation, as if she were willing her to remember, but it faded slowly, replaced by the carelessness she had sported before, leaning back again and shrugging nonchalantly.
"Yeah. Terrible. Organs everywhere. Dead bodies all over." Much to her surprise, what had started out being a joking sentence had quickly turned into the truth, the joking bounce to her voice evening out over the course of the sentence. "And zombies." Now she was just playing with fire. Still, Micky let her eyes linger on Elle's face, just in case. Just in case.
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Tue Dec 29, 2009 5:00 pm
Mack's apparent disinterest only seemed to solidify the dark-haired girl's impression of their past relationship as a friendship. Something nagged at her slightly, but she was tired of fighting with forgotten or nonexistent memories, and she didn't press the matter with herself. Instead she focused on the redhead relaxing on her bed like that was where she belonged, wearing the same style of backless gown as she herself had woken to find herself in. Unlike Elle, Micky didn't seem bothered by the fact that she was effectively half-naked in front of the whole world, but then, she wasn't bare-assed like Elle was. Her mother had left some clothes for her, but she hadn't moved from the bed to put them on.
Elle didn't miss the way that Micky looked at her, first tentatively, then leaning in closer. For all that she was sixteen years old, she was a worldly sixteen-year-old. Then again, even a naive person would have to be completely retarded or blind to miss the look Micky was giving her. She drew in a breath, feeling her heart thump at the tone of voice Micky used, and was seized with a very real desire to lean in and kiss those lips with all of their teasing, flirtacious little words. Elle tensed, restraining herself from the urge, yellow eyes meeting Micky's jade ones, not sure how to answer the desperation in them, but forced herself to grin.
"That's the Micky I know," she managed to say as the Irish teen leaned back, shaking her head slowly, an amused smirk on her face. She couldn't decide if she was supposed to laugh at Micky's next remark or not, so she gave her a nonplussed look, quirking an eyebrow when she said 'zombies' like that. As if it were actually significant. For just a moment, her blood ran cold. But then logic returned and she rolled her eyes.
"Very helpful, O'Connell," she snorted, but was vaguely unsettled again, still not sure if Micky was joking or not, leaning towards joking. The look on her face, the way she was watching her, didn't put her at ease by any means, however. "You expect me to believe that? I'd more likely believe I was actually kidnapped by an organ trafficking ring than that I survived a real zombiepocalypse unscathed," Elle folded her arms across her chest, poking at her with one foot, and smirked again.
"Okay, I'll admit, that serious face almost had me. But you ruined it with the zombie part. Jackass."
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Posted: Tue Dec 29, 2009 9:13 pm
That's because you didn't, she wanted to say. You died. I watched them take away your things. I have your diary... your key is around my neck. You turned into a zombie. I snapped your neck in half with a baseball bat. You caught me and ate me. You didn't survive a zombiepocalypse... you were the zombiepocalypse. My personal apocalypse. Instead, she grinned as though she had been teasing, laughing as if she had been joking the whole time, and had managed to win some sort of battle by having Elle admit she almost got her.
"Naw, no way, who could believe something like that, huh? Crazy."
Mack made a grab at the foot that was poking her, tugging on the ankle and resisting the urge to pull it up and see if the hippygoth was wearing underwear, knowing very well that Elle was wearing the same backless gown. Instead, she just tugged on it impishly, smirking back. All she was managing to get out of Elle was confusion, suggesting Elle really didn't remember her. It was a little startling... although at the same time, not. It wasn't only foolish, it was presumptuous to think that Elle would remember her, no matter what. And she really did want to be happy for her. Like this, Elle could be a new person, without the scarring of ZP. She liked this smiling, teasing, smirking Elle. Perhaps... it was better this way.
"So who is the Micky you know, anyhow?" She prompted curiously, making suggestive faces at her, hard to tell if she were being seriously seductive or if she were just playing. Probably a little of both.
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Wed Dec 30, 2009 8:04 am
"Only if my life is, as I've long suspected, a secret horror movie waiting to happen," Elle grinned, shaking her head at the incorrigible redhead. It was all okay if it was just a joke. Of course she'd felt fearful, she reassured herself; the idea of waking up surrounded by dead bodies wasn't really her idea of a good time. She shrugged it off. She shrugged it all off, right down to the inexplicable weirdness that nagged at her faintly. It felt so familiar, to sit and laugh with Mack. It felt good. But if she remembered anything more, those long nights of mindless fleshly indulgences and sweet nothings, she wasn't letting on.
Instead she seemed more wont to encourage Micky's teasing, wondering how far she should push her old friend, how far she could push her old friend, when that slightly chill hand settled around her ankle and tugged, wiggling her foot in Micky's grip and putting it down in the other teen's lap-- yanking it away WOULD give her an eyeful.
Elle laughed at her question, a low giggle, knowing she was being flirted with and shamelessly enjoying it, quirking an eyebrow at her, debating on whether or not to give her a straight answer. Mack seemed to be testing her memory, for reasons that she couldn't divine just by looking at her. But since the girl hadn't cooperated when she'd asked her if she remembred anything (at least, from Elle's perspective she hadn't), she chose to play some tit-for-tat.
"A drunken Irish bint. A sexy b***h. I'm tryna find the words to describe this girl without bein disrespectfuuuul~♫," she teased with David Guetta's immortal words, moving her foot to drag the gown a little higher up on Mack's legs, smirking.
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Posted: Thu Dec 31, 2009 5:05 pm
"Well, if you wanna get philosophical," Micky replied, winking at the black-haired girl, letting her drop her foot and reaching over to grab her other one, placing it in her lap with a grin, as if to say 'so glad you're so comfortable.' The low giggle was only an encouragement, and Mackenzie lowered her eyes, her smirk devious.
"Oh good, so only the good stuff," she grinned, grabbing Elle's ankle again, stopping her from pulling her gown up her leg. On the outside, she was grinning, but it was only skin deep. She desperately wanted to let herself enjoy it -- Elle was laughing, smirking at her again. Not a care in the world. No ZombiePines, no smashed necks, no blood-stained teeth. No Zodiacs. Was it a second chance? Was there a god, looking down on her, pitying her, giving her this consolation prize to losing everything, having nothing but a group of kids she barely knew, but at the same time knew so completely?
Or was this punishment? As wonderful as it felt, it was a little more painful than she was letting on. Like it was taunting her, how she couldn't have the second chance. She had an obligation now, and she couldn't be normal and play games with her and have what she had had before all this.
Micky's smile faded a little, and she let go of Elle's feet, brushing her bangs out of her eyes, forcing a look of disinterest on her expression. Perhaps it was time to end this. She had had her fun. And Elle was alive. That should be enough for her. Giving Elle a bored look, she yawned showily, making a real effort to brush her off.
Sorry Elle. Sorry.
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Thu Dec 31, 2009 5:30 pm
Elle relaxed, smirking at Micky, settling back against her pillow and chilling like that. The older girl made the stress and confusion melt away. It was all right. Even though something awful had happened, O'Connell was the same, and everything could go back to normal. Elle winked at her. She was having far too much fun with her, encouraged by Micky's responses.
"'Good stuff' all right. I don't know how you managed to stay on Student Council so long, some role model," she teased, unaware of the things plaguing her companion. She wouldn't understand. Not yet. All of it was too new, the shock sinking in. Even if Mack could tell her what was wrong, it was beyond Elle. So she kept playing, kept teasing, desperate for this feeling of normal human contact.
The teen noticed as Micky's look turned distant and she stopped touching her feet, moving her feet out of the Irish girl's lap as she yawned and smoothing the gown over her own legs, blinking at her. The change surprised her a little, wondering if she had done or said something wrong, and she felt an ache between her ribs, her smirk fading as well.
She couldn't know. She couldn't possibly know that Mack was a Zodiac, that she herself had eaten her, killed her brutally and in cold blood. There were no marks on her neck to show where it had been broken. She was new and whole again, both of them, and with no evidence, she couldn't draw that conclusion.
So it was disappointing, even as she tried to keep her attention.
"Yeah... Are you tired?" Elle asked, in a gentler voice, hoping that was the excuse. "You probably shouldn't be up walking around..."
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Posted: Sun Jan 03, 2010 4:41 pm
"Yeah, tired..." She mumbled in return, pressing down the ache. It didn't help that she had said it so sweetly, like she was really worried about her. Oh, this was tough. Tougher than fighting zombies had been. Even tougher than smashing Elle's neck had been, which to her credit had been pretty damn hard. Had Andeon not pulled her away, in the end, she probably would have sat there for who knew how long. But this wasn't ZombieElle, and that was kind of the problem.
"Guess I should be getting back to that bed, then," Mackenzie's voice sounded bored and disinterested as she got up off the mattress, barely glancing at the other girl as she brushed off her backless robe, "Sure your mum'll be here soon to discharge you." She used that as the excuse, an already-sore topic to make the distance easier, wrapping an arm around the metal pole as she dragged it to the door.
"See ya 'round, Elle-ah, ella, ella."
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Jan 03, 2010 5:24 pm
Elle looked down at her hands, going over their conversation in her mind again, trying to figure out Micky's sudden distance. She couldn't divine what it was, so she was left wondering, sitting in awkward silence with her. The dark-haired girl searched for something to say, coming up with something rather lame and opening her mouth to try and start another conversation, but Micky spoke first.
"Oh... yeah," she blinked as the Irish girl got to her feet, watching her get up and smiling a little at the sight of Mack's underwear. The smile flew away as soon as she mentioned her mother, feeling a pang of resentment, and looked away again. What had she done? Elle wondered if she had just been rejected. Maybe that was it. But Micky's last little farewell had her raising her eyes again, not daring to grin, and she nodded, managing to at least smile. Mack was just playing. She flirted with everyone.
"Stay out of trouble, O'Connell," Elle returned, pretending to fiddle with the remote control for the room's television so she didn't have to look at her, wondering if she was pushing too hard. Barren Pines was over. Maybe... it was okay to move on.
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