005 [Four and Twenty Blackbirds]

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye...

[Drusilla is lying on her back, and, although she is gazing up at the 'ceiling', she doesn't seem to be looking at it.]

I don't have any rye in my pockets. I gave it to little Anne, so she could sow it in the garden. Stitching the soil until we had a full crop. I can't eat it. It sticks in my throat, stealing all my words.

They're all I have left now. Words and words. They chase me around, and I try to catch them. I can't remember which ones belong to me.

You can't bake blackbirds into pies. It's wicked. You'd have to clip their wings first, and isn't fair to stop people from flying.

[She spreads out her arms.]

I used to fly. I've lost all my pinfeathers, and my tummy is rumbling. There's nothing left to fill it.

OOC: Drusilla is hungry. Unfortunately, her experiment is still underway, so she is finding it rather hard to feed.

Comments

[usagipino]

Is Drusilla sick?

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

Yes. Rotting away inside. I need to cut it out. I will, I will.

[usagipino]

Do you need medicine? Hnnn, Pino doesn't have any medicine...

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

I don't need medicine. Poppies for sleep. Sweet red dreams.

[usagipino]

Can Pino give you dreams?

[madamemoiselle]

{Smiles}

Ne, you're hungry, aren't you?

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

[Dru nods mournfully.]

I tried to hunt for little boys and girls at the playground, but I was trapped by nasty bars of conscience. They squeezed my chest. Wouldn't let me snap.

[madamemoiselle]

Ah~ That's what tends to happen! That conscience will always win, even if you're dying.

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

No. It isn't supposed to. I can remember what they taste like. All sweet and rich and bouncy. Wicked things are supposed to be wicked.

[madamemoiselle]

But the wicked things can change, too!

[onedrous.livejournal.com]

[Drusilla is hypnotizing. She's like Mero with breasts on crack.]

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

[She'd probably be honoured by the comparison, if she started to pay attention. I'm afraid she's just going to remain sprawled out on the floor, though, singing nursery rhymes to herself.]

[onedrous.livejournal.com]

[After a beat, One skulks closer, looming a little as he observes.]

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

[Finally, Drusilla notices him. She turns her head and stares.]

Do you like to sing?

[onedrous.livejournal.com]

No.

[swanseer.livejournal.com]

[Juni has obviously started to pick up Dru's fondness for stalking checking up on people and so would be edging over] ...Then you should eat.

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

Everything is sticking on my claws before it can get to my throat.

[swanseer.livejournal.com]

...You mean that you can't?

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

Not yet. I will, I will.

[quickcleanpure.livejournal.com]

Sounds like you flew a little too high.

[ooc: ffff not the word I wanted. :x]

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

Like Icarus? I didn't feel my wings melt.

[mercwamouth]

You could try some burritos. Those can get pretty filling.

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

Burritos?

[She lifts her head off the ground to give him a quizzical glance.]

[mercwamouth]

Burritos.

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

Where can I find them?