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located in New York, NY, a part of Good Mourning, one of the many universes on RPG.

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"I WILL FUCKING MURDER YOU."

No two ways about it: Lestari Kiaidemak was anything but a consistent individual, a trait that very acutely manifested in her sleeping patterns. There were times Lestari woke up at the crack of five in the morning and was in the music room grinding away in drop C whilst Aura was still sleeping the slumber of the dead and dreamin' about eyeliner or floppy hair or whatever the fuck pop punksters dreamed about-- fuck all if Lestari knew. And there were times it was two in the afternoon and any living thing foolish enough to attempt to stir the behemoth from her immutable state of sleep ran the risk of being skinned alive and used as a down comforter (wait, shit, that was death metal as fuck-- Lestari would have to remember that and write some lyrics about it at some point). Hell, there were times she straight up didn't sleep and wiled away the hours of the night playing guitar, sometimes with the compassion not to plug in.

As far as Lestari was concerned, this was one of those 'wake me up and I'll feed you your intestines' mornings. As far as Aura was apparently concerned, this was one of those 'I don't give half a shit' mornings.

The door slammed open, and thusly revealed the immense form of Aborticide's erstwhile singer, guitarist, founder, and creative dictator, lookin' like she coulda slept another ten years and it still wouldn't have been enough. Black rings outlined her slender eyes, which even appeared to have lost a hint of their malachite brilliance, and the creases that lined the contours of her hard-edged mien appeared somehow all the more prominent. An old Napalm Death shirt clung somehow almost wearily to the taut musculature of her upper body, the jeans she had slept the night away in managed to look even more faded and aged than they already were, and the hints of grey beginning to conquer the blackness of her wiry hair had clearly won a major victory the past few days.

Yeah, it was some shit, but frankly, right now she had bigger priorities.

"... izzat bacon?" Lestari commented sluggishly, sniffing the air like a 6'5, 250 pound raccoon. At about that moment, she also actually noticed Aura was standing there-- standin' there lookin' not a whole lot better. A twinge of guilt struck her sharply as she beheld the lingering vestiges of the bruising that yet reluctantly apportioned the canvas of his skin with his multifarious tattoos-- as clear an obstinate memento of a Christmas gone about as wrong as it possibly fucking coulda as her own weariness and tenacious ruefulness.

Not my fault. It's not. It wouldn't have fucking happened if he hadn't decided to get fucked up.

Fuck. What point was there in mulling it all over again when she'd already spent the two days since fucking seething about it? Shit, Lestari didn't know much about Christmas. It'd never really been a big deal to her. But she did know it was apparently supposed to be a time you spent with people you gave a shit about, just... y'know. Just spending time. Hangin' out. Enjoyin' one another's company. All that kinda shit. As far as she was aware, it was decidedly not the fucking time to instead go and get so fucking high you proceeded to camp out under the Christmas tree with a goddamn steak knife ranting about people looking in through the windows.

But hey, she'd been wrong before.

Look, she wasn't gonna say she wasn't still pissed. She liked hangin' out with sober Aura too much not to be incensed when she ended up having to spend the day with 'high off his fucking balls' Aura instead, making sure he didn't dive out the fuckin' window or some shit. But she didn't wanna prolong this any longer than it had to be prolonged: she woulda rather shit just go back to the way it normally was. Well, really, she woulda preferred if Aura just fucking quit doing the thing that was driving her to do shit to him that she wasn't proud of, but apparently, that was just outta the fuckin' question.

"Good fuckin' mornin'," the metalhead grunted by way of the standard greeting to Aura as she shouldered on past him into the kitchen, still looking very much like she coulda been the inspiration for Death's 'Zombie'. Frankly, she still thought they shoulda rerecorded that song on another album like they'd done with Beyond the Unholy Grave and Land of No Return, but with Chuck Schuldiner dead and gone, it seemed that was just another thing that was fated never to come to fruition.