InsaneJournal

Current mood:	angry
Entry tags:	greed, lust, sloth

WHO: Sloth, Greed & Lust
WHEN: Friday night, late late
WHERE: Greed's place, where Greed and Lust are holed up post-fucking
WHAT: Sloth wants some vengeance
WARNING: Sloth is mad.



Sloth left the flat in a slouchy black hoodie and jeans, the hood pulled over his head, ipod plugged into his ears. The night was oppressive to him, the city atmosphere only infuriating him more. While he did make her more passive, Wrath's burst of anger had infected him, making him feel incapable of anything but hate for his fellow beings. She was about the only creature in the damned place who he didn't want to skin alive.

The dealer wasn't that hard to find. Sloth saw him from a block away, drawn by the aura of despair and desperation that came with drug users incapable of fighting their way beyond the gripping moral paralysis that addiction caused. He drew off their inability to cope. When opium dens were big, he'd lived in them, lulled into a daze by the collective listlessness. He missed the exoticism of it. Now it tended to be dirty, rough, hidden.

The dealer was practiced at looking casual but Sloth could see his shiftiness. He reached out, draining his desire to be alert and moving, digging deeper into the man's motivation to sell, his desire for money. He could feel himself moving through the man's emotions like layers in a cake, and at the bottom was the dangerous one, sweetest and most repellant at once, the will to live. He didn't touch it, though, save to just lick across the top to give himself a shiver of electricity. He didn't want to make an enemy of Satan by killing the man.

The dealer was slumped on the ground, staring at the wall, a pitiable look of despair on his face. Sloth knelt over him and gently fished in his pockets, taking everything he had except the money. He patted the man's cheek.

"You can go home now," he said softly, helping him up. "Go home and sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up." The dealer nodded mutely, unable to fight the directive with any will of his own, and walked away, a little unsteady. It would still take time and maybe anti-depressants for the man to be back to himself again. Sloth wondered if Satan would be mad, and then decided he didn't care.

The energy drawn so quickly from the mortal made Sloth feel heady. He usually licked off the layers of will like cream, savouring their taste, making it last for weeks. Taking so much at once gave him energy to burn, and the desire to burn it. Pocketing the drugs, he walked, skimming will-power from people he passed, feeling hotter as he did, angrier. The wrath inside him and the energy were too much for his normally passive spirit. He had to find someone to take it out on.

Greed. The name sliced through him and he snarled. What right had he to be so fucking... well, greedy? He had to sleep with everyone? He fucked his way through their siblings with no consideration. Lust, of course, the slut; Wrath; perhaps Pride, going by what Greed had implied. Envy he didn't know. Gluttony, well, who would anyway, though Sloth imagined Glut gave good blow-jobs. When the sin showed up again, Sloth would find out. He'd show Greed and get there first.

But first, Sloth would find Greed, and Sloth would punish him for his hubris, if an immortal could suffer from that. He followed the feeling he got to find him. He could generally find any of his Sin siblings if he tried hard enough, being as they were all a part of each other.

He found Greed, and Lust. Sloth smiled. He could make them both pay for thinking themselves better than him. They were sleeping in each other's arms. Gross. Sloth was an expert at sneaking into places, and picking locks. Breaking and entering was too flashy. He slid into the room in the dark and stood over the bed. Lust was so beautiful, though Sloth knew how skin-deep that was. He bent over her and stroked back her hair.

Delving through the will of an immortal was not as easy, and that of a Sin or Virtue was even harder. While humans were generally piled up like strata around a core, immortals were all jumbled because their motivation came from different places. Sins were more like a cloud, the way Sloth saw it. He wanted Lust to feel like he did, and he wanted her power. It didn't take much to start pushing her, to take her sexual drive away from her, aiming to make her feel powerless and immobilised. She wouldn't laugh at him then. She'd respect him.