Who: Wrath and Death Where: Madison Square Garden/Elsewhere When: Tuesday, 6:30ish Warnings: Sex, language and mentions of off-screen gore.
Wrath screamed constantly, banging her fists against the reinforced glass and actually causing a crack until the Garden fixed it, a slightly angry hum coming from the generators. She drew her power around her, the air crackling until the Garden dropped the temperature of the rink a few degrees and froze her out. She began to curse in old Latin, railing against Death, against the Horsemen, against the angels and the virtues before she gathered up as much Fire as she could and sent it up toward the ceiling with a Hellish scream of "MASTER!" But no one came and she watched the game go by without her while pacing the box, anger growing but unreleased simply because it was too cold for her to do so.
She had drained her flask by the end of the first period and she watched with disgust as Hockey made nice with Hades' son, hating the fact that all these spectators were watching her humiliation. It only got worse when she lit a cigarette and had only taken one drag before the glass bent back and one of the sprinklers detached somewhat from the ceiling to drench her in freezing water. Again, she tried to scramble up the sides but the Garden was closing the glass again and she merely took a seat on the bench, shivering and rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm herself.
She watched Death play with growing apprehension. He was going to take her again. He was going to hurt her again and this time... she didn't know if she could withstand it. After he let her go, if he let her go, she knew she couldn't go home to Andras and let her see her so weakened again. There was the Phonoi, certainly, but she owned them and didn't want to show weakness. Dysnomia had the same issue and Wrath felt utterly alone as she awaited her doom.