Larxene (
savage_nymphxii) wrote in
genessia2017-12-14 09:43 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Arelen and Shinjiro (and possibly Lea and/or anyone else who might want to check on her)
Where: Her apartment
What: She has the flu. :|
When: Evening, December 14th
Warnings: language, alcohol consumption.It's Arelen and Shinji, that's kind of inevitable.
The first night after Demyx moved out was quiet.
Arelen had slept in, and went to work the next day as the landlord came to fix her window and the door she had kicked down when she wasn't herself.
When she came home, she skipped dinner, and chose instead to drink the bottle of wine she had in the refrigerator. All of it.
The next day, she had gone to work, but left early, saying she wasn't feeling like herself.
She had spent most of her paycheck on more wine and some cheap bottles of whiskey that day, and neglected to eat. This was the night she turned off her phone, and didn't turn it back on.
She didn't show up for work again.
This time, it was because she was dying.
At least, Arelen thought she was dying.
In reality, her reckless behavior lowered her immune system, and she contracted the flu.
Her reasoning for thinking she was dying wasn't as crazy as it sounds- as a Nobody, she didn't get sick. Simple enough idea. However, she knew she was sick. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that her only other knowledge of an illness such as this was from 1480s France... when illness meant a death sentence.
Sure, she could have gone out to get medicine, or see a doctor or healer, but she was stubborn.
Medicine had alcohol in it right?
At this point, there were empty water bottles and empty bottles of miscellaneous liquors strewn about the apartment, and currently, there was an overflowing trash can full of tissues next to her bed.
Yes, Arelen was completely convinced that she was dying.
It was just as well.
She didn't care at this point- every time she thought she had made progress in the right direction, she did something stupid to push her back.
She felt like a failure.
Where: Her apartment
What: She has the flu. :|
When: Evening, December 14th
Warnings: language, alcohol consumption.
The first night after Demyx moved out was quiet.
Arelen had slept in, and went to work the next day as the landlord came to fix her window and the door she had kicked down when she wasn't herself.
When she came home, she skipped dinner, and chose instead to drink the bottle of wine she had in the refrigerator. All of it.
The next day, she had gone to work, but left early, saying she wasn't feeling like herself.
She had spent most of her paycheck on more wine and some cheap bottles of whiskey that day, and neglected to eat. This was the night she turned off her phone, and didn't turn it back on.
She didn't show up for work again.
This time, it was because she was dying.
At least, Arelen thought she was dying.
In reality, her reckless behavior lowered her immune system, and she contracted the flu.
Her reasoning for thinking she was dying wasn't as crazy as it sounds- as a Nobody, she didn't get sick. Simple enough idea. However, she knew she was sick. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that her only other knowledge of an illness such as this was from 1480s France... when illness meant a death sentence.
Sure, she could have gone out to get medicine, or see a doctor or healer, but she was stubborn.
Medicine had alcohol in it right?
At this point, there were empty water bottles and empty bottles of miscellaneous liquors strewn about the apartment, and currently, there was an overflowing trash can full of tissues next to her bed.
Yes, Arelen was completely convinced that she was dying.
It was just as well.
She didn't care at this point- every time she thought she had made progress in the right direction, she did something stupid to push her back.
She felt like a failure.

no subject
"It's Shinjiro. Call me," should really be implied if you're seeing one missed call from him.
He called her again over lunch - just figuring she slept in during the morning, not feeling well - but when she didn't pick up then, either? That's when he started to worry.
Finally, in the afternoon, he headed over to her place.
Banged on the door.
"Arelen!" BANG BANG BANG "What I said 'bout breakin down your door still stands!" BANG BANG BANG "Don't try me!"
no subject
"Stop-" cough cough "pounding on my-" cough hack "door, dammit!" cough hack sneeze.
She tiredly stepped to the side to let her friend in.
She only felt slightly embarrassed to let him into the disaster area of an apartment, but didn't care.
After her coughing fit, she found a bottle on the floor that had about a shot and a half left of whiskey, and downed it.
"Did you come to say goodbye? I'm on death's door."
no subject
He snatched the bottle away, even though it was empty, just to make a point.
"You ain't dyin," Shinjiro said, and tried to grab her shoulder, to drag her back toward bed. "I know what that looks like, you're just. God, Arelen. How much of this shit didja drink?"
no subject
She rolled her eyes when he tried to drag her to her bedroom.
"How do you know I'm not dying? I'm burning up, and the alcohol is helping the pain and- ah..." she thought about his question. "I don't know, I spent my last paycheck on the booze instead of food. So whatever that bought me."
She sneezed and groaned.
"Ugh... why can't you let me die in peace?"
no subject
"You've got a cold, and now you've got a hangover, congratulations, you win at being an adult," Shinjiro answered her, sarcastically.
When they were in her bedroom, he kicked a path through the empty bottles and crumpled tissues, so he could shove her toward the bed. "You realize that cold medicine exists, right? And, you know, that soup will probably help you recover faster than - the hell is that, smells like paint stripper."