mandalus :: the city of fates.

{{ooc: Backdated to, let's say, the day after the C'Meni kicked Mes'Klou's ass}}


[The device switches on to show a mildly annoyed ex-demon. Meg sighs heavily, raking her fingers through her hair.] Okay, so, on the note that that Mes'Klou asshat is dead, I'm going out for drinks. I'm about to pull my hair out, being cooped up in here. Who wants to join me?

I promise I don't bite. [Meg smirks.] Unless you like that sort of thing. Otherwise, it'll cost you.

[When the device turns on, Meg is chowing the hell down on some pork fried rice. She chews quickly then washes it down with a sip of whiskey.] So I'm back, I guess. Whoever's bright idea to bring me back in that ugly-ass outfit is getting a knife in the face.

[She pauses in her message to eat some more, making happy food sounds. Washes it down with a little more whiskey.] So what'd I miss? You guys kill that asshat, Mes'Klou yet?"

[The phone turns on to show the city of Mandalus' resident demon, walking down the street. She flashes a grin that isn't entirely friendly.] Anybody know where a gal can find a decent apartment for no money? Can't promise anything, but if I like what you suggest to me, I might owe you one in the future. [Ha. Might. She gives the screen a wink then shuts off the feed.

And anyone who happens to be walking through the streets of the Venetian District will see the 5'4" blonde demon pulling a green plastic wagon filled with 'provisions' for her apartment hunt.]

Meg was getting sick of this, plain and simple. She'd just gotten herself cleaned up (mostly), wounds slowly starting to heal. Then that asshat Crowley had to go and make a mess of things. 'Things' being her face, her body in general. She was covered in blood, laying on the ground, slowly trying to push herself to her feet. Crowley was kind-- meaning not kind at all-- to help her up by her lapel. "I could beat on you...for eternity," he growled out, a smile curling the corner of his mouth.

The pain was excruciating and Meg forced herself to smile as it took some effort to spit out, "Take all the time you want, you pig." The sound of car doors opening and close was heard and Meg glanced to where Dean had parked the car. The brothers were in the front seat, looking back at Meg and Crowley, the back empty. Castiel was gone, good. Maybe this wouldn't all be for nothing.

"No Cas in the backseat. Your stone is long gone," Meg taunted him as she lifted her angel blade and plunged it into Crowley's bicep. Where she stabbed him sparked, and he made a sound of pain, and annoyance. He ripped the blade from his arm and twisted it in his grip, sending it into Meg's abdomen. The pain was white hot and Meg cried out from it, throwing her head back, looking to the stars.

---

[The sky changed suddenly. It was no longer night. It was day, and she was indoors. In that damn station where she arrived in. Mandalus.] You gotta be shitting me, [Meg muttered before falling to the floor. The blood leaked steadily from the stab wound, soaking into her shirt before sliding over her side to pool on the floor beneath her. A man hurried over to kneel beside her, pulling out his phone.]

Just a moment, ma'am. I'll call you an ambulance. [he said in a rush, accidentally thumbing the video option, broadcasting a shot of a bloodied and bleeding out Meg on the floor.]

No hospitals. [Meg replied, eyes slipping shut for a long moment.]

What? Why not? You're bleeding everywhere!

Won't...help.

Then who do you want me to call?

[As much pain as she was in, Meg tried to think of who she would have him call? The Winchesters? They just sat in their car, watching her get shanked. Jim Kirk? What could he do? His friend being in future medicine or not, she wasn't human. It wouldn't help her any.]

Castiel.

[Meg whispered the name like a prayer before unconsciousness took her, dragging her under.]

[The King of Hell will see you now.

If Meg's heart could beat, it'd be pounding away like a snare drum. She looks up at the suited demons, who're planning on taking her to see Crowley. The last person she wants to see. Ever. Black blood-- Leviathan blood-- flecked her face and clothes, drying quickly. Opening her mouth for a witty reply, not wanting to go down without a fight, Meg blinks and suddenly finds herself in the middle of what looks to be a train station. No demons. No Crowley.

Well that's lucky.

Or maybe not. As she stands there, Meg begins to realize that the two gunshot wounds-- the one in her shoulder, the other dead center in her chest-- are bleeding steadily. Not stopping. Well, shit. That's not a good thing. With a quick glance around, Meg takes off, shoving past a pimply-faced teenager who was recording her live. A pained sneer curls up the right side of her mouth.]

What are you lookin' at, kid? [She huffs, reaching forward to knock it from his hand.] Don't you even think about putting that on Youtube.

[Making it outside before anyone in there can call the paramedics (or the cops, considering she's carrying a big, honkin' machete), Meg leans against the building, panting softly. Damn, she didn't realize how bad bullets hurt. She's been without her body for centuries, and yeah, when she got shot by John Winchester, it stung.

But not like this.]

Damn it. [Meg lifts her right hand to her chest, the other hanging loosely, still carrying the machete. Her eyes dart all over the street, wishing for an abandoned warehouse of some kind. Give her a little bit of privacy so she can dig the slugs out.]