vingt cinq [ rl with kamina ]

[piercethecharts]

[ When Sheryl is trying to get her feelings out, it usually happens in the form of songwriting. Right now she's curled up on the couch with a notebook. This is normal.

What isn't quite as normal is the fact that anyone trying to walk through the living room would find themselves ankle-deep in crumpled up balls of paper, blacked out with ink, torn to shreds, and in one case, half-burnt. There are some serious feelings happening here. Approach if you dare. ]

Comments

[aburningspirit.livejournal.com]

[on the flip side, kamina channeled emotions physically. he couldn't stand sitting around while his mind wandered. he'd stepped out a while ago for a run to--well, anywhere. all over the city and past that and back. opening the door to the apartment...

hold on. was that burned paper?

he surveys the chaos while wading through the mass of unfinished songs.]

...whoa.

[piercethecharts]

[ she doesn't respond, just keeps writing. She stops only to chew ferociously on the end of her pen, which chooses that moment to jump ship from a horrible afternoon of dental abuse, and explodes in her face ]

Gaahhh!

[aburningspirit.livejournal.com]

[each wad of paper is fattened with a crush as kamina rushes through to grab a wet washcloth and offer it without comment upon return. he had a thick head, but he learned fast: stay the hell out of the way and keep your mouth shut when sheryl nome was in a high temper.]

[piercethecharts]

[ she takes it with a look of surprise ] Kamina? When did you get home?

[aburningspirit.livejournal.com]

Just a second ago. Ya didn't see me?

[piercethecharts]

No! I hate to say this, but sometimes you really could stand to make more noise!

[aburningspirit.livejournal.com]

But--I just--ah, whatever. [plops self on armchair] What's all of this?

[piercethecharts]

Nothing! A bunch of nothing that I can't get right!

[aburningspirit.livejournal.com]

[points to a spectacular example of blacked-out lyrics on the floor] Sure looks like it was somethin'.

[piercethecharts]

That's because you don't know anything about art! [ she tosses the notebook to the floor, and crosses her arms in a huff ]

[aburningspirit.livejournal.com]

I could know plenty about art, but I don't feel like it, that's all!

[piercethecharts]

That's the same thing!

I SWEAR I TAGGED THIS

[aburningspirit.livejournal.com]

[he doesn't even understand what he's arguing against anymore]

No, it isn't!

[piercethecharts]

It's exactly the same thing, and that's final!

[aburningspirit.livejournal.com]

And 'm saying it's not so that's final!

[piercethecharts]

[ THROWS THE NOTEBOOK AT HIS HEAD ]

[aburningspirit.livejournal.com]

[DIRECT HIT; TARGET DESTROYED (aka fell on the floor)]

[piercethecharts]

And the worst part is, my stomach's going to be flabby for years!

[ a lesser woman might burst into tears from the stress. Sheryl shoves her face in a pillow and shouts to let off steam ]

[aburningspirit.livejournal.com]

Huh? [picks self off the floor, completely missing the bits of paper in his hair] What's your stomach got to do with anything?

[piercethecharts]

Nothing! It's the least important part of any of this!

[aburningspirit.livejournal.com]

But what is any of this?

[piercethecharts]

You mean you don't even know?

[aburningspirit.livejournal.com]

No.

[piercethecharts]

It doesn't bother you? Not even a little bit?

[aburningspirit.livejournal.com]

...Sheryl, I don't know what you're talking about right now.