Wrath (ire) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-03-06 19:15:00 |
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Entry tags: | death, wrath |
Who: Wrath and Death
What: Wrath listens to her libido and gets her ass kicked for it.
Where: Super Eight near Times Square.
When: Evening.
Warnings: Violence, language.
It was probably a trap but the rough language he had used had ignited a fire within her and even though she would probably regret it later, she dressed quickly, not admitting to herself that she actually wanted to look decent for this. Still, she wasn't foolish enough to go unprepared and she slid a switchblade between her breasts, sharpened chopsticks holding up her messy updo as she strapped a gun to her inner thigh.
Leaving Andras in charge of the girl and hoping that she would still be alive for her when she came back, Wrath left quickly, hopping into a cab and feeling oddly girly as she checked her lipstick in the reflection of the window. This was Death, the subject of an attraction that Wrath would never admit to anyone, much like the thought that Michael was damn hot even if he was an asshole.
Giving the cab driver a crappy tip and feeling his anger as he drove away, she stood outside the hotel and cast out her senses, zeroing in on Death quickly enough. Once she found the proper room, she tested the doorknob before pushing the door open and leaning against the frame of the door, the wariness in her eyes mixing with her desire.