(2013) open rp post

[181]

permanent open rp post

new year, new post.
❧ select one of my characters (or one that you know I play but isn't on the list)
❧ leave a prompt: pictures work best; lyrics, scenarios of your own creation, etc.
❧ reply as many times as you want.
❧ the apocalypse finally happens.

❧ please note that I am extremely backtag friendly and will be backtagging these threads until the cows come home. and I'm always really eager to do things even if this post is found months after it's posted. also lol sometimes i may take a bit to get to them since some characters are harder for me to think up things and require some canon review! sorry for the wait, i'll make you a vegemite sandwich in the interim.

Comments

You know who

[thornybeauty]

cora? also, sorry, bit shaky on the details wrt meg.

[handpick]

[ cue thunder and lightning. abaddon screams. ]

[ 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.

[thornybeauty]

[ It takes Meg a moment to realize what exactly is going on. First there was a strong demonic presence (that worm Crowley), but then there was one that Meg is pretty sure is so much stronger, it sort of tickles the back of her mind with a familiarity that she had once fleetingly known. Back in the days of when demons were still being shitheels and twisting their meatsuit's heads all around and crabwalking towards people. So long ago, when demons were still making a name for themselves, but Meg? She was still new, not even a proper demon yet. Her soul was still being tortured and ripped and turned.

Oh, the good days when everyone still was loyal to Lucifer and not Crowley.

Earth coloured eyes look at her savior, an eyebrow hitching its way up her forehead. She feels disgusting, blood still oozing from injuries to her meatsuit, only to add to the crusted flecks of blood all over her from injuries that have managed to clot. A sardonic laugh and smile are aimed at Abaddon, and for a moment Meg can't help but think that people should paint pictures of this, of the woman with red hair, red lips, and bloodied hands... Instead of Jesus or God or stupid Angels ( Castiel excluded, Meg thinks there should be many pictures of him... naked... Also maybe a porno. ).

Blonde hair is still stuck to her face, matted with blood and sweat. She feels disgusting and she probably looks to part. Her poor meatsuit... She actually liked this one. The girl hadn't even put up that much of a fight, hell, she still doesn't. Which, in Meg's opinion is nice. Who wants a constant fight with their stupid meatsuit?

She does as she's told, knowing that there's not much else she can do, unless she wants to end up like Crowley... Yet, Meg doesn't really mind following this woman. Fingers shakily wrap around the hilt of the Angel Blade, and she cannot help but think of Castiel for a brief moment. ]

This is new.

[ The words are playful and sarcastic. Even if she's having trouble doing much of anything, she can still find herself trying to act normally, like she still has faith everything will work out. ]

[handpick]

[ a demon who doesn't put up a fight. a demon who knows her place. abaddon doesn't understand what has happened to them over the decades. when did it all go wrong? when did this chaos intrude upon the nice order of what she remembers existing in the 1950s? demons were meant to follow royalty, not salesmen. they were meant to fight. they were meant to cause chaos. but they were never meant to inflict the two upon their leaders. ]

[ she's trying to recruit. demons have fallen so below sub par that she's beginning to consider turning angels against their own kind. their meatsuits leave one wanting; their choices leave one questioning. it's a nice surprise for her, an echo of meg's that's new, that this one treats her with the respect that she deserves. she had, after all, saved her life, and while abaddon knows her own life is now in her debt, demons never quite show their gratitude in the way that meg does. she picks up the knife and does not immediately assert her power with it. either she's stupid or intelligent — and abaddon knows it's the latter. ]

If you were expecting someone like Crowley, then I'm glad to disappoint.

[ she can't quite help the curve to her lips. it's amusing, if anything. crowley is scum, lower than angels, lower than the winchesters. she does not treat her kind with such little respect unless it is warranted. and she doubts that the lack of respect meg has been served is just that. crowley is like a child who lashes out in temper tantrums. one cannot trust a child to rule hell. ]

[ trust and demons has never gone hand in hand. there was a hierarchy. one simply trusted in that. but that has collapsed since abaddon's time. she's quite determined to rebuild it to a point where it is sturdy and strong and impenetrable from what had caused it to fall apart as if ash. ]

[ her eyes slip to the knife. trust and demons. it's something she needs to thread together here in the short space of time that she has with her current target. ] Feel free to use it on me. It won't do as it's told.

[ not like meg, who does. she stands when not asked. she fights when expected to simply take every hit. she does not escape her meatsuit when it is broken and beaten, but stands tall, respectably. abaddon looks down on meg and sees that this demon-woman, despite her split flesh and bloodied face, is the kind of demon that she wants. hell is for demons who are going to fight with every tooth and nail until the muscle of their meatsuits is the only thing keeping them tied to a physical body. ]