chilichoc: (little smile)
*Mel didn't cook at all when she was back in her world. For one thing, she didn't have time. For another, it would've reminded her too much of everything she'd lost. She got to the mansion the first time barely able to boil water, and learned to cook as much to impress Mail as to have something to do. It reminded her even more of him since the first time he disappeared, when she'd just mindlessly made food, unable to sleep or think, as a substitute for real action.

That's different now, but Mel's still nervous. Is it a little weird to celebrate an anniversary when half the couple doesn't remember most of the two years? Maybe, she's decided, but it'll be a nice date anyway.

She grilled some salmon and asparagus, made some rice, and arranged it all on two plates, with a sprinkling of some fresh dill she found in the fridge over it all. She takes her tray from the kitchen, and soon comes to the door with the MEL'S ROOM sign.*

Mail? I've got a surprise!
chilichoc: (sorry doesn't mean i didn't enjoy it)
*Mel's more nervous now than she was when she was getting ready to meet Mail for their date, and she takes longer than she needs to in the bathroom, brushing her teeth, finger-combing her hair. She made it sound teasing when she told him she'd wear pajamas for once, but the black silk tank and shorts (with a pink bow at the neckline and pink trim around the legs, because the mansion can't help but mock her a little) feel weird and unfamiliar. Finally, she can't reasonably put off leaving the bathroom any longer. With a last admonition to herself to be careful, she heads into the replica of her Wammy's room.*

There anything you need?

[private to [livejournal.com profile] downtothefilter]

Dear mun

Jan. 4th, 2010 09:08 pm
chilichoc: (and i never miss)
*It's this room again, and Mel is writing in the journal set out on the desk, scowling, ripping the paper when she scores the underlines.*

You. Bitch who types for me.

You're going to do what?

Do you really think it's an idle threat when I say someday we'll find out together just how long-range my Glock is?

[for [livejournal.com profile] curtainwizard]
chilichoc: (smiley mel)
Saturday morning, these freaks I'm related to are getting me up at the crack of dawn to go to Disney World. I won't be totally offline, but I'll be slow if I'm around. This affects Mel, Blanky, Surly, etc.. I get back on the 11th, at which point there will be pictures of me in my Kaylee Frye costume. :D
chilichoc: (taste of dried-up hopes in my mouth)
*The fact that she could smell the rain before she opened the door should've tipped her off that this wasn't really the room with the Wammy's House grounds, but she's already taken the first step in.*

No, no, fuck no.

*She's done this before, more times than she's admitted to anyone, mostly in that awful more-than-a-week when Mail was missing.

She's in the truck; she knows the Nagano street sign by heart. She can't keep herself from feeling desperately lost and alone, can't keep her eyes from flicking to the television screen in the cab, where the car is just a red blur, and she can't make sense of the broadcaster's voice. She could count it down, almost, from the time the wheels leave the pavement. Ten, nine, eight. It's not real, Mihaela, it's just a room. Seven, six, five. You still have your ring, nothing can really break the spell. Four, three, two. The vise about to clamp down on her heart, and the part of her that's in the moment wants it. One. One hand on her rosary, one curled tight around the ring; everything goes black, and she doesn't feel her head hit the steering wheel.*

[[private to [livejournal.com profile] curtainwizard]]
chilichoc: (Default)
Apologies to everyone who's seen just about exactly this elsegame. :/

I have an out-of-town guest coming in tomorrow, and we're going to Disney World next week, where I will have very limited time for teh internets, so here's advance warning that I'll be on official hiatus from the 7th through the 10th. I'll probably be kinda slow up until then, too.

Meme tiem!

Feb. 18th, 2009 12:11 am
chilichoc: (Default)
Swiped shamelessly from [livejournal.com profile] curtainwizard.

Tag this post with your character's (characters'?) journal names and I will write a one-line drabble about them from my character's perspective. "One line" means 15 words or less.

Then post this up so you can do the same.


ETA: Any of my kids are fair game, of course!
chilichoc: (stripey!mel)
*Mel sits on the window seat with her arms wrapped around her knees, looking out at fake-Winchester. She moved all of Mail's things into the closet, because seeing them made her too unhappy. She's not sure if she's gone numb out of self-preservation or if she's simply too tired to feel anything.

Not here. If none of the spell worked, he's in his world. Mel hasn't seen his Mihael in a while; she's most likely there too. If the spell worked partway, he's in her world, with Kira still out there. Twelve days. Last time he was taken away, every day here was a month for him. God only knows what he's been going through, while Mel searched and waited, and tried to hide the cracks, and put off for pride's sake what she's increasingly certain she has to do.

He could still come back, she tells herself. But. Ryuuzaki's gone and returned. And B said the link was strained, days ago. If Mail's suffering, lost or hurt or worse; if their bond is close to breaking... What choice does she have, anymore?

She sits up straight and puts her feet on the floor.*

Sissy? I need to talk to you.
chilichoc: (Default)
*Mel told Mail only that she needed to head out early to help Ryuuzaki with something. She didn't want him to worry while he was sick, and she figured if he needed details, he could get them after she was back safely.

In the mistletoe room, she didn't even know she was anxious about what might happen until Mikami threw the sheets of paper into the fireplace and relief hit her, and she realized the situation had been the equivalent of an unstable person holding a loaded gun.

She doesn't quite hurry back to the room, but she is eager to get there. When she does, she undresses swiftly and slips back into bed, getting into her usual position with a hand on Mail's shoulder and her head tucked under his chin.*
chilichoc: (lurve2)
Reasons For Defying Reason
A Mel and Mail mix

I'm with you now in body and music and mind )
chilichoc: (vampy)
[No, it probably isn't the best time to talk to Near about going home, but Mel can't sleep, and she's been feeling the urgency of the need to return to their world, and finish Kira, and guarantee everyone's safety, ever since the futures room. She's just been... sidetracked. But she and Mail have been researching magical travel, and she knows she ought to at least see if Near will come home with them, sooner rather than later. So she tries to make herself look as normal as possible, and goes across the hall and knocks on his door.]

Near? Are you there?
chilichoc: (vampy)
[Fake-Winchester is blindingly sunny today, and Mel's eyes are strangely sensitive. She was sitting on the window seat trying to study the spell for going home, but she started to feel ill and dizzy, and it didn't stop until she pulled the curtains shut and moved well away from the window, to the bed. What the fuck is wrong with me? she thinks. She's been wondering that on and off for more than two weeks. She hasn't slept in so long that she's gone past tiredness into a kind of giddiness. She looks pale, and her skin's starting to feel chilled to the touch.

She doesn't even want to eat rare hamburger or beef jerky now, even though she's hungry.

She can't pretend any more that the futures room did it, and her symptoms started well before her disgreement with Mail, so it can't be that, though she still feels terrible about it... so terrible that chewing on her gloves isn't calming her anymore. She pulls them off and chews on a finger instead.

And that's when she realizes that her teeth have gotten sharper.

She stares at the blood trickling down her index finger, and unthinkingly licks it away. And that...
that helps. It helps a lot, and makes her feel a little warmer and less hungry, and this is fucked-up, but she sits there, sucking on the little wound.]
chilichoc: (Default)
[Mel goes to the kitchen to find some treats for puppy!Matt, glancing behind her every so often to make sure he can keep up. There's some beef jerky in one of the cabinets, and Mel pulls a piece out for herself before sticking the package in her pocket. Finally she finds some proper dog treats and takes them too.]

OK, little bit, let's make this easier on you.

[She picks him up for the trip to her and Mail's room, and sets him carefully on the floor when they get there, and gets the treats out of her pocket.]

Well, what do you think?
chilichoc: (stripey!mel)
[Mel's in Mail's clothes, because her fingers were still bandaged when she got dressed, but they aren't now. It was impossible to cook with the damn band-aids on. She continues to crave rare, rare, almost bloody hamburger, but she's an inexperienced cook at best, so she hasn't gotten one the way she wants it yet. She's been at it for a little while, and there's a plate with several burgers (or pieces of burgers; hers don't seem to hold together like they should) ranging from medium-well-done to barely still rare on the counter beside the stove where she's working. She starts to lift the currently-cooking patty with the spatula, and it falls apart in the pan too.]

Oh, for the love of fuck.
chilichoc: (WHUT)
Still wrestling with the book from hell. D: D: D: Today is the day all those chapters I sent out for review are coming home to me, like a flock of little ducklings. (Hee, ducklings.) Only these ducklings have teeth and are bitey and need every little feather inspected for mistakes.

OK, that comparison kind of fell apart.

I can tell that when I'm done working for the day (which won't be for a while yet), for the sake of my sanity, I'm going to need to go somewhere not in front my computer and just... stare into space for a while. Or stare at a series of Miyazaki movies with plenty of booze to hand. :-/ So, sorry to the folks who are talking to Mel, Godlet, or 'rama! I'll tag back when I can formulate sentences in English instead of in C#.
chilichoc: (Default)
[To Mel's dismay, her insomnia seems to be returning, though she's been trying to hide it so Mail won't worry. She keeps catching herself nibbling on her fingernails when she's not paying attention, too. It must have something to do with that damn futures room, she thinks. So she found the library with the books about magic, and pulled out all of the ones that looked like they might have anything about transportation spells in them. Now she's curled up on the window seat while a wind storm lashes at fake-Winchester, biting her index finger and reading furiously.]
chilichoc: (Default)
*Mel's really glad she can get mad again, because if she'd had to cry when she nicked herself slicing tomatoes, instead of cursing and kicking the stove, she would've been mortified. She finishes making the two sandwiches, wraps them up, and puts them in the picnic basket with the bottle of lemonade, plates, napkins, and glasses, and a smallish black-wrapped present with a teal ribbon, the exact color of Mail's eyes, around it.

She already changed into a black halter-top sundress with a full skirt, and she's barefoot (with dark blue toenail polish). She told Mail she needed a little while to get everything together, and she kind of hopes no one who'll stare or laugh at her wanders into the kitchen before he gets here.*
chilichoc: (sad!mel)
*Mel's sitting on the window seat, deeply annoyed with fake-Winchester, but staring out at it anyway. As it sometimes does, it seems to reflect her mood, grey clouds piled high in the sky, trees lashing in the wind that drives the rain against the windows. She's sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, one arm wrapped around them, the other hand holding the chocolate she's attacking more viciously than usual, scattering crumbs and shards every time she snaps off another bite.*
chilichoc: (Default)
[Being little wasn't horrible, but it was annoying, and Mel is quite happy when she turns back Wednesday afternoon. The room, sadly, does not grow up with her, stubbornly remaining a duplicate of her Wammy's House room. She remembers Pinkie wanting to talk about things that her kid-self wouldn't quite get, and goes out and looks around for him, but with no luck. So she grabs a few bars of her favorite chocolate from the kitchen, leaves the door half-open with the MEL'S ROOM sign still clearly visible, and sits on the bed with her magic books and notes, hoping he'll stop by.]

[[ooc: private to [livejournal.com profile] chilichoc and [livejournal.com profile] justiceishot, though obviously [livejournal.com profile] downtothefilter can come into his own room. XD]]
chilichoc: (Default)
[Mel cajoled her way into getting out of bed long enough to at least take a shower, so she could stop feeling so fucking grubby. As she washes her hair, she thinks that what she needs is information. She stayed in the room all last night; she's stubborn, but she really doesn't want Mail to worry. Surely by now Ryuzaki or someone has figured it out, right? Surely she'll make it to the kitchen, and there N will be, making tea, terse and snarky as ever. She's drying her hair, slowly and shakily, and trying to think of the joke she can make when she sees him again, when her vision goes narrow and fuzzy and her hands go tingly, and she stumbles against the door and slides down against it to slump on the tiles only partly voluntarily.]
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