send “auld lang syne” for my characters reaction to waking up from a happy dream about your muse —- only to remember that your muse is already dead.
{{ “I d9n’t think I can d9 this,” you say uncertainly, staring at the turntables in front of you. "Sure you can. We’ve been over it a million times," he says with a shake of his head. "I’ll worry about the beat, you focus on the words."
This was going to be a disaster. You could feel it. You clear your throat, avoiding his eyes as you try to remember the “sick rhymes” he had taught you.
"Um. Well. I————- —- ————————- ——— ——————— — - ————— ————————— ————————- ————————- ————— —- ————————— —- ——————— —————————- —————— ———- ———————— ———- — — ———— ———— —- — ——- ————- — —- ———— — ————- - —— …."What followed was a rap so horrifically inadequate that you were forced to censor it from your very memory. The last note fades, but you’ve already crumpled to the floor, head in your hands."That— was terri6le—" you groan. "H9w d9 y9u d9 it s9 eff9rtlessly?"
He laughs and ruffles your hair. “Practice, Kanks. And talent. Lots of talent.” He crouches down beside you. “Don’t worry about it.— it was pretty good for your first time.”"We 69th kn9w that isn’t true.""A’ight, so it was kinda awful," he says with a grin, "but you’ll do even better next time, I promise. I’ll teach you."
Your head lifts and drops in a tiny nod, although you highly doubt that you’ll improve much. Still, this was fun. A fiasco, but… fun.
"Hey, Dave?" You look up, a lopsided smile on your face. "Thank—" and then you w a k e u p—
You're in Roxy's room. Or rather, on the floor of her room, one cat curled up on top of your chest and another draped across your leg.
You had visited her to make sure she was okay... but that, of course, was an impossibility. Dave was dead. You didn't have any plans to leave her room until you were absolutely certain she wouldn't do something rash again.
Dave was... dead. You bite your tongue and pretend that it's the pain that brings tears to your eyes. }}
