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[RL 32: Is it really enough?; Edgeworth][Backdated]
Tuesday, June 30th, 2009 07:53 pm((OOC: Backdated to last night, 6-29-09 comm time, around 9pm on the last day of the Dream Virus. References this community post. Edgeworth discovers why you shouldn’t try to outsmart the community by staying awake for four days straight.))
‘It couldn’t have been more than a few moments,’ he thinks, as he sweeps his bleary gaze around the living room. His eyes come to rest on the television screen; it’s empty and black, and it’s emitting the faintest electronic hum. ‘A few moments, hardly long enough for REM sleep, not enough for anything significant...’
...But the credits have obviously rolled, and must have ended an indeterminable time past. While he doesn’t remember falling asleep, he knows the movie itself, and not the credits, was the last thing on his mind when he did.
With a tightness growing in his chest, Edgeworth shoves his toes gently but firmly at the warm, soft weight covering his feet. Sigi’s ears twitch, and as he wakes he looks up at his master, cocking his head curiously. A snappish word is all it takes to send him shooting gracefully to his feet, and the dog stands aside to clear Edgeworth’s path then follows quickly in his wake as Edgeworth all but runs down the hall.
The office is dark, the computer screen dead. Edgeworth doesn’t bother to flick the light switch, simply crosses the room and drops into the Chesterfield so hurriedly that the chair rolls, almost overshooting the desk. His knee cracks against the wood, jarring the mouse and bringing the monitor to life. Edgeworth curses under his breath as he rights his chair and pulls out the keyboard tray.
The community is already open. A click of the mouse refreshes it, revealing his own username near the top of the page. The video box is black, giving no hint to what indignity it may contain. Something embarrassing, without question...but the dread slowly pooling in the pit of his stomach casts a frightening hint of foreshadowing over it, and he hesitates a long while before clicking the arrow on the screen.
Edgeworth watches it in darkness, the light of the monitor making his lips a tight, white line across his pale face. The dream unfurls with a horrible familiarity, each moment filling in the memory that had been nagging at the back of his mind and increasing his dread. The longer it plays the more his heart sinks, fear and dejection weighing it down.
When the video ends, Edgeworth stays exquisitely still, staring blankly at the screen with glazed eyes. Eventually he drops his head into his hands, struggling with his uneven breathing as he rubs roughly at the bridge of his nose, his temples. As he does so, Sigi pads softly across the carpet. The dog slowly lays his long head across Edgeworth’s knee, and Edgeworth finally lifts his head, runs both hands through his hair, leaving it in disarray, and, with a heavy sigh, reaches for the mouse.
Obviously deleting won’t be an option. The most he can hope for now is...damage control.
‘It couldn’t have been more than a few moments,’ he thinks, as he sweeps his bleary gaze around the living room. His eyes come to rest on the television screen; it’s empty and black, and it’s emitting the faintest electronic hum. ‘A few moments, hardly long enough for REM sleep, not enough for anything significant...’
...But the credits have obviously rolled, and must have ended an indeterminable time past. While he doesn’t remember falling asleep, he knows the movie itself, and not the credits, was the last thing on his mind when he did.
With a tightness growing in his chest, Edgeworth shoves his toes gently but firmly at the warm, soft weight covering his feet. Sigi’s ears twitch, and as he wakes he looks up at his master, cocking his head curiously. A snappish word is all it takes to send him shooting gracefully to his feet, and the dog stands aside to clear Edgeworth’s path then follows quickly in his wake as Edgeworth all but runs down the hall.
The office is dark, the computer screen dead. Edgeworth doesn’t bother to flick the light switch, simply crosses the room and drops into the Chesterfield so hurriedly that the chair rolls, almost overshooting the desk. His knee cracks against the wood, jarring the mouse and bringing the monitor to life. Edgeworth curses under his breath as he rights his chair and pulls out the keyboard tray.
The community is already open. A click of the mouse refreshes it, revealing his own username near the top of the page. The video box is black, giving no hint to what indignity it may contain. Something embarrassing, without question...but the dread slowly pooling in the pit of his stomach casts a frightening hint of foreshadowing over it, and he hesitates a long while before clicking the arrow on the screen.
Edgeworth watches it in darkness, the light of the monitor making his lips a tight, white line across his pale face. The dream unfurls with a horrible familiarity, each moment filling in the memory that had been nagging at the back of his mind and increasing his dread. The longer it plays the more his heart sinks, fear and dejection weighing it down.
When the video ends, Edgeworth stays exquisitely still, staring blankly at the screen with glazed eyes. Eventually he drops his head into his hands, struggling with his uneven breathing as he rubs roughly at the bridge of his nose, his temples. As he does so, Sigi pads softly across the carpet. The dog slowly lays his long head across Edgeworth’s knee, and Edgeworth finally lifts his head, runs both hands through his hair, leaving it in disarray, and, with a heavy sigh, reaches for the mouse.
Obviously deleting won’t be an option. The most he can hope for now is...damage control.
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