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A few minutes past midnight, wed/thurs. - Camp Slash [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Camp Slash - rpg

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A few minutes past midnight, wed/thurs. [Sep. 11th, 2005|03:46 pm]
Camp Slash - rpg

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[sinister_one]
[mood |drunkthrashed]

I'm laying on the grass, staring at the stars. They're gorgeous tonight. I used to do this with Julian every once in awhile way back when. I try to get Rupert to join me once again, but he just ignores me, staring at me from his spot on the cabin stairs like a protective mother cat. He probably thinks I'm too drunk. Maybe I am, but it's okay, because I feel so much better right now. Who cares if the world is going to shit? Vodka will protect me, or make it hurt much less if it doesn't. Love to Vodka. My new friend, old friend. Where's Rupert. "Rupert!" I shout into the night. There's a soft sigh and a softer, "Over here, Cillian," from the stairs. Right, the stairs. Someone steps over me and I smile happily at them.
"Cillian, why don't you just go to bed?" Rupert pleads.
"Nope!" I respond loudly. My outside voice got into a shouting match with my inside voice and won, bringing along his friend, trying to shout through the buzz in your head voice, then they got into a match, and the new voice won. I no longer remember how to be quiet.
"You're going to wake someone up," he hisses at me, thinking that might calm me.
"LEGAL!" I apparently find this uproariously funny and start cackling.
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Comments:
[User Picture]From: sinister_one
2005-09-12 03:32 pm (UTC)
I burst out laughing. "I WISH. I've been trying for days, Bill. Feels like WEEKS. You come along and say 'Tomorrow's going to be different,' and I can't even stay the same." I find myself on the ground though I don't remember falling, Rupert's arms around me, whispering for me to quit while I'm ahead. Despite the fact that he's incredibly soothing and incredibly right, I can't, because I shouldn't be breaking down this much. I haven't since I was a child and here I have a child trying to calm me. "Don't TOUCH me." I scoot away and he just looks at me, hurt. He knows everything, just by look me in the eye, just from that one phone call. He knows, so how can he bare to want to help?
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[User Picture]From: arg_rint
2005-09-21 12:41 pm (UTC)
I bite my lip. He's definitely not himself tonight. I understand, but at the same time, I don't. He look as if he's been burned by my touch. "Cill, come on, man. Let's just get you into the cabin, hmm? If you still feel the same, you can take that ride tomorrow. Go wherever the hell you want, alright? Just... don't do it tonight?" He stares at me, his eyes becoming vacant. I hate when he looks like that. It creeps me out. I do my best not to show that I've noticed it.
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