M / IT RUNS THROUGH HER VEINS, LIKE BLOOD, THE CALL OF MYSTERY. the love of the paranormal, haints like coveted candy to her teeth, work within her flesh the way an engine starts. now, the ghosts of the hour and sliding walls are traded for simpler means of mystery: she cradles a heavy box to her chest, its lid half - open and its contents threatening to spill. I think this'll really get you... the detective begins, swear of a thrill filling her mouth. they stand across from each other, a table separating their bodies, in a warm office space. the low hum of air conditioning runs through the walls, simultaneously satisfying and unnerving. the box is set down on the table with a muted thud and its lid is removed ceremoniously.
❝ ( ... ) hope you don't mind ˢˡⁱᵐᵉ ... ❞ her lips twist into a grin, head snapping upwards in a quick glance. the excitement of revelation sits in her like a seed, its roots already taking hold to the corners of her stomach; she is a pit of curiosity despite her attempts to quell it. the adrenaline comes up in waves, crashing against the tide of her teeth, no respite in returning to itself. it continues, it continues, it continues. within the box, besides folders of papers and photos, is a metal container about halfway full. its contents are brown in color, sludge in appearance. she touches it with a single finger, then retracts quickly. ❝ my neighbor, now my client, found this in her attic. but get this: there's no mold in there, no signs of tampering ( ... ) HELL, no one's been up there for more than a glance around for a good decade or so... she thinks she uncovered some supernatural residue, left behind by god knows what. ❞ the air hangs still between them. Velma's monologue comes to an end and she waits for the other's response, takes a moment to watch her expression.
WORRY SETTLES IN WITHOUT HER PERMISSION. IT OPENS HER JAW AND SITS IN THE CAVITY OF HER MOUTH, waiting... seething...
the other ( @medusacomplex ) fixes her mouth into something the detective reads as sour. there is a pause before her response, a finger lifting from the table and almost – almost! – reaching into the container... “ It’s gross... ” a stifled hum comes from the detective. ¹ A QUICK INTERJECTION: ❝ oh, well, y'know, it's – you – ❞ and the woman across finishes her statement, eyes meeting opposite gaze and her mouth going from sour to sure. “ ... but also kind of interesting. ”
... the detective waits a moment, and then two. the wind leaves her body and then returns, her own lips edging towards a frown and then away. ❝ it is... [ and then, more assuredly, ] IT IS. it's definitely interesting... my neighbor wants me to check out her attic, find where it's coming from ( ... ) ❞
¹ “ rejection is a fickle thing, and it is sometimes can be a figment of our own imagination. when we feel rejection, it is important to ask just what we feel we are being rejected from. this discovery can perhaps lead to a ––– ” DR. SANDRA SONG, THE ABC'S OF ANXIETY ( 2011, reprinted. )
