[Rachel is lying on her bed, one hand hanging off of the edge to rest on the head of her dog, staring at the ceiling with half-closed eyes. She's wearing shorts, and a tee-shirt, and worn sneakers -- she looks as if she might've just gone running. On top of that, Rachel looks exhausted, and her breathing is slow and even, as if she's drifting off
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It's from Les Miserables.
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-=Yep. He looks like death warmed over.=-
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Another hour or so, I think.
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[Not sleeping is horrendous. But Rachel pauses, before she tentatively continues.]
Are you alright?
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You should not want to stay asleep.
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It reminds her forcefully of Lucifer.]
I -- ... not sleeping isn't healthy.
[It's said somewhat weakly, and Rachel quickly touches her own face.]
Raphael, what -- ?
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My vessel, Rachel. She is decaying.
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[What in the ever loving Yahweh does that mean.]
As in -- why is she decaying? Does it -- hurt?
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As always, your song is lovely, Rachel. Would that everyone's dreams were as nice as the little girl who narrates the song.
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She's singing about her mother.
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I was Cosette in a local production once, when I was little. My fathers signed me up for it.
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Awake?
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