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Post by hedgiedeath on Nov 23, 2011 11:42:39 GMT -5
 Of all the jobs Blake had ever forced himself to have, this one was by far his favorite. He wasn't exactly cut out for being a waiter or assistant or the other previous jobs he had where he had to deal with living people. The only living person he could really stand to be around was Delilah, and he hadn't told her about this job yet so she wouldn't come here to visit or something. He didn't exactly want her around all this death. He wouldn't allow Delilah's warmth to be tainted by the chilly air of the morgue at Sacred Heart.
All in all, Blake preferred the cold atmosphere of the morgue over any warmth that wasn't Delilah. And not just the temperatues, either. People who chose to work here weren't exactly expected to be happy or extremely friendly, as Blake wasn't. Small talk was practically nonexistant, and awkward conversations while working that would have been awkward over a corpes anyways were avoided. The other employees were almost as silent as the dead bodies they worked on.
It was funny. He had been watching television one uneventful day and that one show came on.... NCIS? The coroner was a quirky old British man who talked to the corpses as if they could speak and tell him what happened, when really the only way he found out was through the autopsy. It was funny because Blake recognized most of the bodies that came in. Not that he knew them, of course, he had only seen them once to let their souls pass through him and into the next world. Which was another perk of working in a hospital. He found out that he only had to be in proximity with the dying to do his other job.
But anyways, Blake had work to do. And that work involved checking to see if he was right. Why he had logged on to that chat, he would never know, but he had and he had met that girl... Paige? Paige. Her name and face had seemed familiar, and Blake decided that she also worked here. He would have asked, of course, had it not been for the teenagers that logged in and took over that whole thing. So he decided to actually take the time to look at his coworkers. Putting on the bright green scrubs that were probably the most colorful thing he had ever worn, he waited for his coworkers to get here. Odd, he was rather early getting here, and he was never really one to want to spend more time at a workplace, even here.
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Post by PAIGE ADAMS on Nov 28, 2011 21:15:35 GMT -5
Some lines of work were just too much for the ordinary public to handle.
Paige Adams had one of those jobs.
To her, it was a matter of being an emotional mute, which there was no doubt in her being. Working with dead people was normally revolting to society, something unspoken; however, Paige had long since lost her ability to waver in mood and that included the repulsing nature of her work. Sure, she occasionally thought of how the family (if the corpse had a family) must feel, but there was not one trace of empathy there, nor was there sympathy lingering in Paige's heart. She had judged ninety percent of these people, and they had obviously failed. To her, they were almost better off dead.
Already armed with a strong, black coffee and a cigarette, Paige walked the last few blocks to Sacred Heart Hospital. Like always, a dark chill clung to the woman; there was an off quality about the air that surronded her: it always seemed a few degrees cooler and slightly...damp, mildewy. Like death. Paige accounted it to being the living incarnation of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come; she had such a close, dare I say intimate, relationship with death that it seemed plausible for the ordinary person to feel close to the brink around Paige. Not that she ever had tried it out or had questioned somebody on how they felt when around her. Paige didn't have time for such trivial things as friendship, or the emotional capacity. Some things were just left to mystery.
While normal people would feel a sense of relief when walking into a building, especially one as safe as a hospital, Paige just felt annoyed. It was yet another day of work at the morgue, another day of awkward silence around her coworkers who would never understand the subtle beauty in life and death. Death was the only thing Paige ever felt comfortable with, and disecting their bodies to find a cause for their passing was...soothing for her. Of course, Paige didn't ever truly feel relaxed, but she didn't ever feel stressed either. Just...void. Life was just a cycle for Paige and she had her daily motions to attend to. Other than that, Paige really didn't live for anything. It was a mystery that she had actually logged into that chat room. Not even when tracking someone had she actually participated in one. Reason unknown, Paige had found herself on there with reckless teens and...Blake. Instinct had told her that he was one of her coworkers, but the normal slightly-nauseated feeling that accompanied her coworkers hadn't showed. He must've been that one other person there who seemed to appreciate his job like Paige did. Coincidence, surely.
Snuffing out her cigarette, Paige walked into the little pathetic excuse for an employee lounge (really, you would think the hospital would appreciate the morgue crew more), expecting to be alone like she normally was. Paige typically arrived first so that she could enjoy the cool, crisp air of the morgue in peace before the others arrived, but this time she was not alone. Startled, Paige jumped a little at the site of Blake, already in his scrubs. Well, she hoped he didn't expect an actual conversation with her. Setting her coffee and bag down, Paige tugged the too-bright scrubs on over her black skinnies and dark purple three-quarter length sleeved shirt. Standing there for a minute, Paige decided to take a sip of her coffee, not trying to hide her scrutinizing, always frosty, stare. "Blake, right?"Her voice was a bit harsh and too loud for the quiet room. Paige scratched at her head once before continuing, "You know, no one seems to really appreciate what we do. There's such a subtle beauty in death that not many people seem to acknowledge."Ordinary people would have balked at the idea of saying something so morbid, but Paige only continued to stare at her coworker, her dark hazel eyes searching for something that would set him apart from the others.
Tags: Blake/Hedgie
Words: How much didja type?
Outfit: Woohoo, scrubs.
Notes: My little dark baby -w-
Lyrics: Haunted by Taylor Swift
Credit: Made for Sullymander by Olleyloo for OUAC. Steal and die.
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Post by hedgiedeath on Dec 6, 2011 17:16:09 GMT -5
Blake heard footsteps and smelled the faint smell of cigarette smoke before he saw anything, and when he did see someone, his reaction on the inside was one no one in love with someone else should never feel. One, his first thought was that he was much more beautiful than he had noticed before, seeing as he had never really looked at her. Two, he got a tingling in his stomach that one as dark as Blake would call spiders, since he was definitely not the type to get 'butterflies'. It was weird and unwanted and he felt a little guilty, as though somehow Delilah knew what he was thinking and could yell at him for it. He kind of wanted to be yelled at for it. Plus he was kind of staring while he took all this in, so he looked away, though he didn't expect the woman in the room with him to say anything. His thoughts were already confirmed; she was the one from the chat last night.
"Blake, right?"
Somehow, someway, after all the things he had seen and been through, those two words made him jump a bit. Not that he was scared, more surprised and not used to the sounds in the quiet room, ever. Usually the only sounds were the murmurs of someone asking for a tool, the zip of a body bag, or the scribbling of a pen on a toe tag. He simply nodded, replying with a voice that was definitely more calm than he felt. "Paige." It wasn't a question, though he had so many.
He knew one thing for certain, and that was that there was definitley something off about her. Not off mentally, but... it was something familiar even, and he had never felt that before. Sure, he felt something about some people he had sort of met or seen on the street, that something being that they were the reincarnations of literature and fairy tales, like Delilah was. But nothing had ever been this close to him before. Could there be more than one grim reaper? No, he would know if that were it....
"You know, no one seems to really appreciate what we do. There's such a subtle beauty in death that not many people seem to acknowledge."
Blake, who was not in control of his thoughts or actions at the moment, could have sworn he felt his jaw drop, but it was all in his head. He had pretty much been thinking the same thing, and who else would ever find beauty in death? Well, not that he found much beauty in it, rather a tolerance for it as the last part of life. Though he supposed there was a subtle beauty.
Well, he had to say something now. He wasn't the curious type, but this desire to know about Paige Adams was almost burning a hole inside of him.
"I think people just don't want to think about death, that they're in denial about it all. Only people who know what death is like can ever really truly know how necessary it is."
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