Sixty Ninth Sip

[mal_addict]

[Maladict is sitting in the Death Match, a cup of blood on the table before her, fresh from the clinic. She's been leaning forward, staring at it intently, before she pulls out her journal to speak into it]

Yesterday was the League of Temperance day...not that that means much to any of you. Hell, I missed it myself, what with being in that Toe-key-oh place and being human and all.

[She runs a finger over the rim of the glass, and she's reminded how easy it would be to just down it. To just give in. She's not been in the best of places recently, but she's somewhat happy to learn that she still doesn't want to give up just yet. That she still wants to be this person she made for herself out of the ashes of her former life. That she's still okay with being her...whoever 'her' is]

Anyway. It's been five years and a day of being on the wagon. Yay me.

[Another pause]

Everyone get out of that mess with the creepy mask guy okay?

Comments

emote only because I intend to spam you

[hard_talker]

[he's not going to pipe up just yet - he's busy prepping for the night's broadcast - but she will have opened her door to find a radio shaped like a casket with a mix tape in it, a bag of high-quality Japanese coffee, and a mug with a bat-shaped handle. the tape is labeled simply "rock on", and full of badass songs about self identity and fighting the good fight, especially one called Not A Pretty Girl by some Earth woman named Ani DiFranco. he never forgets, Sarge.]

aww yeah all the spam

[mal_addict]

[Awww, that's such a nice gift. It's taken her a while to return to the castle, to that big, empty room with echoes of a much happier life. But she's glad she has, she needed to. The gift just makes it all that better. She knows who it's from too, pretty hard not to know, she reminds herself to thank him later]