Davian Rivera-Triádhos (antitestament) wrote in st_margarets, @ 2015-03-19 14:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: cressida hallowfen, character: davian rivera, location: cressida's greenhouse |
Thread: Attack of the Killer Vines
WHO: Davian, Ms. Hallowfen, and OPEN for Barclay
WHEN: March 19
WHERE: Cressida's greenhouse
If there was one thing Davian had learned from smoking weed, it was that eventually, no matter how good it made you feel, how smart you became, or how many mysteries unfolded up to you while under the influence, it eventually ran out. When it ran out, it was pretty easy to get, usually. But Davian's seller was starting to get wise on his tactics of using fake money. The kind that he'd glamour on the exchange and get his weed and get out of there before the glamour wore off. Another thing Davian had learned from weed was that you didn't want to fuck with the sellers. Especially not cocaine sellers. They usually had someone bigger and stronger than you to force you to pay up, and it wasn't the kind of paying Davian could pay with sex - although they did threaten to take it out of his body if he cheated them again, in the form of a finger or two.
Luckily the demon didn't need to worry about the hard dealers because Camden was in butt-fuck-no-where. The dealers in Vegas had been the real deal. Here they were unemployed college dropouts. And besides, there were other ways to get marijuana and whatever else he wanted to smoke, like Nightshade, than paying for it. Davian was low these days,not counting the stash Dallas had given him that Paton was forcing him to keep hidden to use for blackmail later. A recently conversation with Ms. Hallowfen had illuminated the fact, in Davian's head, that she knew what weed smelled like, and therefore must have some in her stash of otherwise useless plants in that little greenhouse she kept.
Davian waited, lazed around, and finally got desperate enough to break in and steal from the Head of Hydra. Borrow, more like. That sounded better. He just wouldn't tell her about it. Or tell Paxton. And fuck if he was going to tell Ambriel. Whatever came, he needed to get some more or he was going to lose it. In the sloth demon's mind, the reward outweighed the risk, and the effort.
He didn't count on the door being warded or boobytrapped or for snaking vines to loop around his ankles as soon as he stepped inside, knocking him off his feet and dragging him into a monster of a plant that looked like something out of a SyFy Channel special. Davian's screams of horror became muffled in the tight weave of vines that looped around his whole body, hanging him upside down like a piece of ripe demon fruit ready to be plucked by a hungry vine monster that his imagination helpfully filled in the details for.