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[ A | Home; locked to housemates
Murasa thinks that Mayfield is just another dream when she wakes up. Oddly lucid and powerfully vivid, but still a dream - an impossibility her own mind is teasing her with. What else could explain the pictures on the wall, the complete absence of everything familiar to her, the sharp burn in her chest when she didn't breathe? Murasa hasn't needed to breathe for centuries. It had just been a choice, a conscious effort, a way to stave off yet another reminder that she was a ghost.
This, any of it....it can't be real. Her subconscious is just being cruel to her again.
She decides to indulge this stubborn delusion for now, grumbling loudly as she makes her way into the kitchen. On a whim, Murasa pours herself a bowl of cereal. She doesn't expect for it to be even remotely palatable; again, it's a dream, and she can't remember that last time she experienced the full flavor that any food or drink could offer. It was another part of being dead, this dulling of her once mortal senses. A loss not even her psyche could restore.
....So really, it's little wonder that astonished tears well up in her eyes when the taste of these bland, generic cornflakes hit her like a punch. They roll helplessly down her cheeks and Murasa can only sit there, stunned into immobility by this alien feeling of being alive.]
[ B | Mayfield; various locations
Awhile later, after calming down and having things explained to her, Murasa is walking around to better acquaint herself with this strange human village. A captain isn't a captain unless they know every inch of their ship - and while she's stuck here, this town will be no different. Not a vessel under her command, no, not subject to her whims in the slightest, but still a thing that must be known and understood and made familiar.
But alas, habits as old as centuries never quite die; all the words in the world can't make a ghost so used to phasing through everything readjust quickly to being a living, solid human again. And so this mission is hampered somewhat by Murasa walking straight into mailboxes, lightpoles, pedestrians and houses.]
Murasa thinks that Mayfield is just another dream when she wakes up. Oddly lucid and powerfully vivid, but still a dream - an impossibility her own mind is teasing her with. What else could explain the pictures on the wall, the complete absence of everything familiar to her, the sharp burn in her chest when she didn't breathe? Murasa hasn't needed to breathe for centuries. It had just been a choice, a conscious effort, a way to stave off yet another reminder that she was a ghost.
This, any of it....it can't be real. Her subconscious is just being cruel to her again.
She decides to indulge this stubborn delusion for now, grumbling loudly as she makes her way into the kitchen. On a whim, Murasa pours herself a bowl of cereal. She doesn't expect for it to be even remotely palatable; again, it's a dream, and she can't remember that last time she experienced the full flavor that any food or drink could offer. It was another part of being dead, this dulling of her once mortal senses. A loss not even her psyche could restore.
....So really, it's little wonder that astonished tears well up in her eyes when the taste of these bland, generic cornflakes hit her like a punch. They roll helplessly down her cheeks and Murasa can only sit there, stunned into immobility by this alien feeling of being alive.]
[ B | Mayfield; various locations
Awhile later, after calming down and having things explained to her, Murasa is walking around to better acquaint herself with this strange human village. A captain isn't a captain unless they know every inch of their ship - and while she's stuck here, this town will be no different. Not a vessel under her command, no, not subject to her whims in the slightest, but still a thing that must be known and understood and made familiar.
But alas, habits as old as centuries never quite die; all the words in the world can't make a ghost so used to phasing through everything readjust quickly to being a living, solid human again. And so this mission is hampered somewhat by Murasa walking straight into mailboxes, lightpoles, pedestrians and houses.]
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