An Unexploded Shell Inside a Cell [Open]

[vissernone.livejournal.com]

She thought her life would be different by now, but she's a prisoner again. Voluntary, she guesses, which makes it a little bit different than the first time. At least she can blink on her own this time. Not that she's using her body to do much good.

Ironically, she almost always looked better when she was a more total prisoner. Without her makeup and hair clips and changes of clothes to arrange herself into some approximation of health, without even a mirror to confirm her suspicions, she looks a wreck. Dark circles line her reddened eyes; her hair is unbrushed and falls in tangled clumps over her face; chapped, bloodied lips and fingernails bitten down to the flesh speak to her uneasy transition back into captivity.

Eva's given up all attempts to look 'okay'. She ripped a man's face open with her bare fingers. She's been a long road away from 'okay' for a while now, but she spent too long mistaking her anger and stubbornness for strength and resilience to recognize it. She's wised up now.

She really wants a drink right now. Instead she has some books - selected poems by Pablo Neruda and an anthology of poetry by women poets in the Andes - and a pillow and blanket. She's curled up on the cot with the former book in her hand, but drifting in and out of sleep. Her breath comes lazy and heavy as she alternately reads, dreams, and watches the door to the brig with heavy-lidded eyes, looking for nothing.

Comments

[vissernone.livejournal.com]

"What, you think fame is all champagne and ball gowns? It's work. It's difficult, backbreaking work and everyone has an opinion about how you should do it differently."

[thisclinchesit]

The detective scratches his head for a moment. "I thought you were implying that fame was due to things that would get you jailed."

[vissernone.livejournal.com]

"Oh, no, nothing of the sort." She has a lopsided grin. "Back home, it's what other people did to me that makes me famous. But I suppose you arrived a little after I posted my sob story to the comm system."

[thisclinchesit]

"Ah..." Awkward pause. "My apologies for assuming, then. And yeah, I believe I did."

[vissernone.livejournal.com]

"Well, you'll hear about it eventually anyway. No point hiding it." She gives a sarcastic little bend at the waist. "I'm the most famous human host of a Yeerk back home. Seven years as the face of the invasion. You've heard what a Yeerk is, right?"

[thisclinchesit]

There's a light shake of his head. "I'm afraid not, but given the context, I'm going to wager that it's nothing good."

[vissernone.livejournal.com]

"They're a parasitic race of aliens that invaded my Earth. They take your body and control you entirely." She raises her eyebrow. "And we have a few on the ship."

[thisclinchesit]

Okay, THAT gets a wide-eyed look from the detective. "...good ones, I hope - or at least civil ones?"

[vissernone.livejournal.com]

"Oh, very civil. Now that they have their own bodies." The bitterness is practically falling from her like great clumps of hair during a stressful week. "Before that, not so much."

[thisclinchesit]

He nods. "I see." He shakes his head a bit. "Sound like a real wonderful bunch of folks." Bitterness, meet sarcasm.

[vissernone.livejournal.com]

"They're just charming. Nothing like a slug that can talk to really round out the universe's gaping void for bad ideas."

[thisclinchesit]

"Sounds like a few people I've dealt with in my time," he answered with a chuckle.