In Death, Be Not Free
Fandom: Angel
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 150
Prompt: #36 W&H
Character: Lilah Morgan
Disclaimer: Not mine; no money.
AN: Set just before she approaches Angel at the end of “Peace Out” Written for still_grrr and posted there.
Award winner - details here.
She raises fingers long numb to run them across the flesh hidden by her poorly tied scarf. Numb to certain sensations, that is - the silk of her shirt nothing, the smoothness of the skin of her chest refusing to register.
Yet the jagged edges of unhealed cuts rasp rough under suddenly sensitive fingertips. She can feel the tears where the skin didn’t part cleanly, the slight bulges where muscle isn’t fully realigned underneath, the slickness of the liquid seep of blood oozing slowly without the impetus of heartbeat.
She draws her hand over her chest, sensation fading gradually as the smeared blood traces ever fainter lines down, down, down. By the time she raises a damp cloth to wipe the red away, the wetness of it is a cerebral thing - her fingers once again nerveless. It makes retying the silk scarf difficult, but she can’t stop until it’s just so.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 150
Prompt: #36 W&H
Character: Lilah Morgan
Disclaimer: Not mine; no money.
AN: Set just before she approaches Angel at the end of “Peace Out” Written for still_grrr and posted there.
Award winner - details here.
She raises fingers long numb to run them across the flesh hidden by her poorly tied scarf. Numb to certain sensations, that is - the silk of her shirt nothing, the smoothness of the skin of her chest refusing to register.
Yet the jagged edges of unhealed cuts rasp rough under suddenly sensitive fingertips. She can feel the tears where the skin didn’t part cleanly, the slight bulges where muscle isn’t fully realigned underneath, the slickness of the liquid seep of blood oozing slowly without the impetus of heartbeat.
She draws her hand over her chest, sensation fading gradually as the smeared blood traces ever fainter lines down, down, down. By the time she raises a damp cloth to wipe the red away, the wetness of it is a cerebral thing - her fingers once again nerveless. It makes retying the silk scarf difficult, but she can’t stop until it’s just so.