[Team One] Washing Up
Still playing around with the Jinri's Ghost au...
“I’ll help.” The whisper is gentle. Amber sighs, her hands stilling in the hot dish water, suds up to forearms. It doesn’t catch Amber off guard anymore, the sound of Jinri’s voice without any physical vibrations in Amber’s ear. But it’s not a voice in her head, either. It’s not Amber’s mind playing tricks on her because she knows the words she hears in Jinri’s unmistakable voice are coming from an external source, saying things Amber’s never thought about before, with opinions separate from Amber’s own.
Her voice isn’t the echo of a memory, either, because Jinri comments on new people Amber meets, shades of paint she’s considering buying to repaint the garage, and the new HBO show. Things Amber can’t possibly have memories of Jinri weighing in on when Jinri was still flesh and blood with a beating heart.
“Thanks,” Amber responds, wishing she could flick a handful of suds at Jinri, and that she could feel the soap bubbles slide down her arm at contact. Amber can picture the way her nose would’ve wrinkled as she shrieked and laughed. Jinri has no arms to wrap around Amber’s middle, but Amber can feel a subtle warmth envelope her, melding closer, as she continues washing each plate and spoon. Just like they used to wash the dishes together every night before the accident.
You're up, luciferxdamien ! Your last words are: "before the accident."
“I’ll help.” The whisper is gentle. Amber sighs, her hands stilling in the hot dish water, suds up to forearms. It doesn’t catch Amber off guard anymore, the sound of Jinri’s voice without any physical vibrations in Amber’s ear. But it’s not a voice in her head, either. It’s not Amber’s mind playing tricks on her because she knows the words she hears in Jinri’s unmistakable voice are coming from an external source, saying things Amber’s never thought about before, with opinions separate from Amber’s own.
Her voice isn’t the echo of a memory, either, because Jinri comments on new people Amber meets, shades of paint she’s considering buying to repaint the garage, and the new HBO show. Things Amber can’t possibly have memories of Jinri weighing in on when Jinri was still flesh and blood with a beating heart.
“Thanks,” Amber responds, wishing she could flick a handful of suds at Jinri, and that she could feel the soap bubbles slide down her arm at contact. Amber can picture the way her nose would’ve wrinkled as she shrieked and laughed. Jinri has no arms to wrap around Amber’s middle, but Amber can feel a subtle warmth envelope her, melding closer, as she continues washing each plate and spoon. Just like they used to wash the dishes together every night before the accident.
You're up, luciferxdamien ! Your last words are: "before the accident."