life and its complications.

[putrefaction]

[It is a laundry day in someone else's mind.

He took extra steps to leave her alone to her task. She has quite a task ahead of her, and Nigel would only be in the way. Thus, he kept to cat naps, to shifting between waking and sleeping states.

Eventually, his throat demands a trip, and he emerges from his room with the intent to go to the kitchen. An intent that cuts short inches from his destination, when he catches sight of white-gold in the laundry room. Of skin he shouldn't be catching, a floral shape etched against the pale. White with a blue edge. Maybe. It's hard to tell with his sight.

Nigel halts, caught in an emotion unnamed. And as with all his awkward steps, he begins with words.]

A tattoo?

Comments

[purificatio]

[ Clean clothes were a demand of state, one she peruses frequently and at length--usually when she had no other choice. Much like now. She had reached the bottom of her clothes bag and demanded a laundry day.

Clad in her black sports bra and plaid boxers, she went to task. She was nearly 3/4 of the way through it.

Before the boy made himself seen.

She pauses in her work, straightening slowly. ]

A tattoo.

[putrefaction]

[She responds with a straightening back, and suddenly, he feels the discomforting pangs of self-conscientiousness. Yes, the girl is in her underwear, and yes, staring at her must be ever so rude.

Nigel continues his walk into the kitchen, calling out a question at the same time.]

When did you get it?

[purificatio]

[ An unamused eyebrow lifts at his back. ]

If you think I'm going to yell to another room, you haven't learned anything.

[putrefaction]

[...Yeah, he hears you. No, he's going to pretend otherwise and speak a decibel louder.]

What's that? You got it during your rebellious teenage years?

[purificatio]

[ Oh, look at her ignoring you now. There's not much that she's attached to, but the things that she is have a sacredness.

Back to laundry it is. ]

[putrefaction]

[The silence speaks much, and as he pours himself a glass of water, Nigel wonders if he might have offended her.

He is soon back at the laundry room's entrance, his back to the door frame.]

I apologize. I have a big mouth.

[purificatio]

[ That statement is accurate and she continues separating clothes. ]

I wouldn't mar my body on a whim.

[putrefaction]

Hm. I know. Never thought you were.

[He drinks a bit of water, wondering if he shouldn't have called attention to anything at all. That would be simpler.]

[purificatio]

[ He was rude, but she has crumbled before. There's no need for the high ground when one has already apologized.

She flits a hand to the small of her back, tracing well-known lines. ]

This came when I found freedom. I took my own name, my own mark, and my own life in one fell swoop. It's cliche maybe. But it's a reminder. That this body is my own.

[putrefaction]

A reminder. It isn't as cliche as you may think.

[She's forgiven him. Maybe. It doesn't make things easier.]

If you don't mind-- That is a lotus, correct?

[purificatio]

[ She pauses again, and looks back, violet-blue eyes interested. ]

A lotus.

[ She hesitates, but only briefly. ]

A lotus for renewal. White for purification of the mind and spirit. Blue for wisdom through common sense and knowledge.

[putrefaction]

[He has the bad luck of glancing back, of catching two-toned eyes looking in his direction. The man freezes and somehow, manages not to choke.]

Purification. Knowledge.

[He looks away and swallows with difficulty.]

Enlightenment as well?

[purificatio]

[ She gives a tired smile. Clever man. ]

Understanding, maybe. Renewal mostly. I wanted to become a different person than that girl.

[putrefaction]

[Renewal. Everything reeks of familiarity.

Nigel struggles to take in the rest of his water, but still, he does so in one gulp.]

Do you think you've changed?

[purificatio]

[ She watches him now, with bright, vivid eyes. ]

I did back then. I made sure of it.

[putrefaction]

[He smiles, despite everything.]

I'm hardly surprised. You have quite a will.

[purificatio]

[ She makes a face, and in the same moment, throws a balled up pair of underwear at his head. ]

Don't condescend. Or I'll make you do this instead.

[putrefaction]

[...Damp underwear just hit the backside of his head.]

I offer you sincerity, and this is how you repay me.

[purificatio]

This is how I repay you. Would you say that to me if I were male?

[putrefaction]

[Reaching down to pick up her damp girly things, yo.]

If you acted exactly as you are, yes.

[purificatio]

So you think I'd be a feminine male.

[putrefaction]

I think you would be you, regardless of your gender.

[He holds up the underwear without really thinking about the meaning of what he is doing.]

[purificatio]

[ Which she then points at. ]

Those are why I prefer boxers.

[putrefaction]

Those--

[Those pair of panties in his hand. DROPPING LIKE IT'S HOT.]

[purificatio]

[ The quiet girl bursts out laughing, a sound that continues for a brief amount of time. ]

Cute. Scared of undies.