[ abaddon isn't a wear-one-outfit-once type of gal. she uses the time travelling door — and it's accompanying spell — again. it has served it's purpose once before, bringing her to a time where things must change. somewhere along the way, throughout the years, hell had lost track of its soldiers. one had gone awry, crazy with power, while others remained oblivious to this slap in the face. as one of lucifer's handpicked knights, it's her duty to uphold order within hell. ]
[ in order to achieve this, she needs an army. word through the grape vine is that one of her potential lieutenants had been murdered in cold blood by the self-proclaimed king of hell himself. she hears of her resilience, a year under torture, not once uttering a single slip of information — dead before her time, before her use had expired. abaddon finds it particularly tragic when a soldier falls too early. so, she uses that spell (and if a demon can't spell cast, she manipulates someone to do so for her), and that door, although, a different one this time — she doesn't quite have access to the one that had granted her access to this year — she walks straight through it to a couple of months back. ]
[ it's dark and damp. the street is abandoned, except for a vehicle she spies. she sees two figures up ahead — and a very familiar car. she thinks of taking the car out with a simple flick of her wrist, but there's a storm bigger than those two idiots coming, and abaddon knows that they'll serve a purpose much later. what she does not let stand is the salesman before her. with confident, long strides, she ascends upon them. ]
[ coming up behind crowley, she penetrates his back with her hand, grabbing at his spine, before removing her bloodied fingers. she grabs him by the back of his collar, tossing him to the side with such force that he seems to disappear into the brush. the demon before her is broken and beaten, blood covering almost every decipherable feature of her face, but abaddon recognises her. an ally. ]
[ the blade that had been poised in crowley's hand is to the side, inches away from meg. he had dropped it during her assault on his insides. abaddon merely arches an eyebrow, glancing at it, her stance still tall and strong. she looks at her hands, now blood-red, blending with her nail polish, inspecting her work. ] Be a dear and grab that.
cora? also, sorry, bit shaky on the details wrt meg.
[ abaddon isn't a wear-one-outfit-once type of gal. she uses the time travelling door — and it's accompanying spell — again. it has served it's purpose once before, bringing her to a time where things must change. somewhere along the way, throughout the years, hell had lost track of its soldiers. one had gone awry, crazy with power, while others remained oblivious to this slap in the face. as one of lucifer's handpicked knights, it's her duty to uphold order within hell. ]
[ in order to achieve this, she needs an army. word through the grape vine is that one of her potential lieutenants had been murdered in cold blood by the self-proclaimed king of hell himself. she hears of her resilience, a year under torture, not once uttering a single slip of information — dead before her time, before her use had expired. abaddon finds it particularly tragic when a soldier falls too early. so, she uses that spell (and if a demon can't spell cast, she manipulates someone to do so for her), and that door, although, a different one this time — she doesn't quite have access to the one that had granted her access to this year — she walks straight through it to a couple of months back. ]
[ it's dark and damp. the street is abandoned, except for a vehicle she spies. she sees two figures up ahead — and a very familiar car. she thinks of taking the car out with a simple flick of her wrist, but there's a storm bigger than those two idiots coming, and abaddon knows that they'll serve a purpose much later. what she does not let stand is the salesman before her. with confident, long strides, she ascends upon them. ]
[ coming up behind crowley, she penetrates his back with her hand, grabbing at his spine, before removing her bloodied fingers. she grabs him by the back of his collar, tossing him to the side with such force that he seems to disappear into the brush. the demon before her is broken and beaten, blood covering almost every decipherable feature of her face, but abaddon recognises her. an ally. ]
[ the blade that had been poised in crowley's hand is to the side, inches away from meg. he had dropped it during her assault on his insides. abaddon merely arches an eyebrow, glancing at it, her stance still tall and strong. she looks at her hands, now blood-red, blending with her nail polish, inspecting her work. ] Be a dear and grab that.