Wrath (ire) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-02-11 00:02:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | athena, lethe, wrath |
Who: Wrath and Athena. Wrath and Lethe.
What: QUACK!
Where: Central Park, Athena's apartment
When: Tuesday evening.
Warnings: Hilariousness, eventual violence.
After fleeing from holy ground, Wrath had immediately returned to her apartment to change her clothes with only slightly trembling hands. Pacing for some time and downing a twenty-sixer of vodka while she was at it, the anxiety grew in her mind until it approached boiling point. Barely looking at the computer as she typed in a quick reply to Guns, she rummaged in her closet for a large shoulder bag, filling it with a few guns, most of her knives, enough booze and cigarettes to last for a bit and a few changes of clothes. At the very least, she knew she had to get off Manhattan. Even when or if Ares managed to reform, she had still spilled the blood of an immortal on his ground and even if those angry eyes she'd felt were just her imagination, laying low for a few days sounded like a good idea. Especially with Michael in town.
Quickly arming herself with a gun stuffed down the back of her jeans and freshly-cleaned knives up her sleeves, she left the apartment with no particular destination in mind and ended up in Central Park. The deeper she went, the more homeless people there were for her to take out her anxiety on. As she slit the throat of the second one, she thought about where she could go. Brooklyn was easy to get lost in, easy to find a bed in, easy to survive in and that was definitely better than going to New Jersey.
Pausing on a bridge that crossed a stream that was only just beginning to melt, Wrath wiped the bloody knife on her jacket absentmindedly before dropping it into her purse and fishing out a pack of cigarettes. Leaning on the railing, she took a few deep drags and tried to remember her most recent connections in Brooklyn. She could always return to the meth lab where she'd spent the night after the explosions, but she didn't want to start a pattern. Deciding to wing it, she took her flask from her purse and took a long drink of vodka before starting off the bridge. Hopefully, Guns would understand when she didn't show up for work.