Meg Masters (demon_queen) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2013-10-17 18:06:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !closed |
Who: Meg (Au) and Dean (Au)
Where: Their House
What: Meg has no interest in being tracked by angels
When: Thursday evening
Rating: High for blood, gore, and probably language
Open: No
Status: Ongoing
Meg sat on the floor of the abandoned shop. She’d made a veritable nest for herself amongst the books that covered every surface and were stacked in haphazard piles on the floor. They were serving a dual purpose for her now. She’d stacked them high, creating a childlike fort near the back of the shop, protecting her from being viewed by anyone outside. They would have to walk literally up to her wall and peer over in order to see her. But that was only their primary purpose. They were also serving a very important secondary purpose. She sat, ripping page after page from the book in front of her, using the brittle paper to help soak up the blood that spilled from between the fingers of her left hand and she cut.
The tool was a basic thing. She’d ripped a jagged piece of metal from one of the many displays in the store, snapping it and ripping it until she had a point sharp enough to do what she needed to do. Once she’d completely her little fort and settled herself inside it, she began to cut. She cut deep. Each of her fingers was marked, one by one, with a series of angelic wards that she’d learned from Azazel, so long ago she couldn’t even put a finger on the date. She cut deep enough to carve into the bone. Even after her body healed from the damage she was doing to it, the bones would be marked, and she would be invisible to Heaven’s eyes. She’d have to do the same thing to Dean, if he’d let her, but she didn’t forsee it being a problem. All around her were the discarded husks of books and piles upon piles of blood soaked paper balls. Still, she kept cutting.
Dragging her pant legs up to the knee, Meg inspected her legs. They were the next easiest target. She could cut down into the shin bones with relative ease and, since she wouldn’t be hitting any major arteries, the damage would heal fairly quickly. It was worth a go. She’d have liked to do her shoulder blades as well, but was ill equipped to do it herself. She supposed she’d have to get Dean to do it once she got back, and she’d return the favor. He needed to be hidden just as much as she did after all. Breaking off the binding of one of her discarded books, Meg put the slightly moldy spine between her teeth and bit down. Her hand was one thing. This was going to hurt like a bitch.
Focusing all her energy on what she had to do, she started to cut. She made long, precise cuts and felt the lightning pain as the tip of her blade dragged across the bone. A muffled cry forced its way out of her, but she kept going. She kept cutting even when her eyes welled up and seeing became difficult. She kept cutting until both legs bore a thin strip of wards running from knee to ankle along the shin bone, dripping blood onto the floor in small pools. Spitting out the book spine, she rolled her pant legs back down, ignoring the way the blood instantly seeped into the denim creating large, purplish stains. She struggled to stand, putting too much wait on a pile of books and toppling it over, spilling her and what was left of her fort onto the floor. She grunted in annoyance more than pain and tried again, this time managing to remain upright. She blinked rapidly, ignoring the way her poor, human meatsuit was urging her to lay down and heal. The wounds would heal fast enough. Already she could feel the skin beginning to close over them. Walking became easier.
With each step the pain lessened, though by the time she was sure her wounds had closed entirely her pant legs were soaked from the knee down with blood. Her steps left small footprints in blood for several blocks, and she detoured until they disappeared, wanting to leave no trail. By the time she finally arrived at the house she and Dean had claimed as their own, she was more or less walking normally, but the metallic stink of blood was heavy in the air around her. She pushed open the door and headed for the back of the house, where he could usually be found. She hadn’t been there in nearly a week, and she was prepared for whatever tantrum he was about to throw at her over it. |