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MY EYES, MY BEAUTIFUL EYES - Diary of a Necromancer
Excuse me, I'm making perfect sense, you're just not keeping up
Hm, well, Muse seems to be making good on her threats to make this the main project for 2011, so:

Jason walks in his sleep. His subconscious is looking for his pack, I know, but it makes for awkward moments. Or did, before we both stopped caring.

His parents started warming to me once they realised that Jason might in fact be safer out on his own if he weren't out on his own, even if his flattie wasn't another were. Even if his flattie was... me. You look after him, his Mum always says to me when we part. (The were in that mixed marriage, tiny and golden beside two metres of Caribbean-inflected Canadian accent.)

Of course a were needs his pack. And Jason's one of triplets, still missing the constant presence of Sandra and Button-Down, or Benjamin David to give him the name that none of them used even before he went off to study patent law at Northwestern. They still come here to sleep in a pile when one has romantic issues, ice-cream or take-away littered about as appropriate amongst the mounds of tissues. I think it's innocent. It's not considered polite to speculate, about how much is wolf.

Tonight he's got as far as to actually curl up beside me on my bed. He's clearly not been awake at any point of this, because it's cold enough in here that surely even the least shred of awareness would have sent him under the blankets. Too much olive skin is goosepimpling in ghost of the fur he could use tonight, far too much. Blue eyes blink open and give me a puzzled look as I shove at the mop of blond dreads slithering along my arm. "Put some clothes on," I say.

Jason blinks again and heaves himself up, looking round my bedroom as if I were somehow the one responsible for his not waking up where he'd have thought to find himself. He manages a string of indistinct syllables ending in dude and slopes out.

Just another evening waking up with a stark bollocks naked flatmate. I'd latch my door, but he'd sit outside howling.


4 responses | moved to respond?
ljgeoff From: ljgeoff Date: January 14th, 2011 03:45 am (UTC) (permalink this entry)
I've been working all week and missed this. It's so good! The only thing that would catch me up was "were" which I kept reading as were, like, "where were you?"

I love the last line.
robling_t From: robling_t Date: January 14th, 2011 03:49 am (UTC) (permalink this entry)
Yeah, I tried to argue with Muse on that one, but she insists "were" is the form this setting uses. {sigh} I try to save my strength for the battles about superfluous nipples...
huskyfriends From: huskyfriends Date: January 22nd, 2011 08:15 am (UTC) (permalink this entry)
Ohhhhh... nice look at his internal thoughts. You can actually see how much he cares.
robling_t From: robling_t Date: January 22nd, 2011 05:50 pm (UTC) (permalink this entry)
Okay, so that's coming across then? (I've been worrying that Trevor's narrative style is a bit... reserved, I guess; he seems to want to leave his emotional layers to a more contextual reading, which may actually be easier for a reader who's come up in the internet-generation to pick up on in the first place...)
4 responses | moved to respond?