Kirsty Cotton will never surrender. (bloodonsnow) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-01-25 17:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, giles babcock, kirsty cotton |
Who: Kirsty and Giles Babcock.
What: Giles is hungry.
When: 1.23
Where: Hell.
Rating/Warnings: R for gore.
Status: Complete!
Babcock was hanging from the ceiling. He wasnât sure how; his bare feet simply held the ceiling and he hung there. It was comfortable. After a moment, he heard Kirstyâs car pull up and he was forced to end his staring contest with Duke, who exhibited a slightly irritated expression at his master hanging from the ceiling.
He hit the ground, almost floating down. That was part of his change; he could almost fly. Almost.
Kirsty had a pile of paperwork in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other, and a doughnut in her mouth. âMMF ERRMMM,â she gargled a bit. It was meant to be âIâM HOMEâ, but one could only do so much with a mouth full of pastry.
After chewing, she went to find her husband and dog, smiling at Duke and wrapping her arms around him. âHey, boy, whereâs your daddy?â
âHere,â said Giles, moving behind her. He could move silently now, almost without any noise. It seemed like every single day he was becoming faster and stronger. His arms moved around her and tightened. He kissed her on the cheek, and then a few more times along the neck. âWelcome home, detective.â
She smiled, leaning back against him. âThank you, husband. I didnât even hear you this time.â Which was impressive, actually. Kirsty closed her eyes. âHow was your day?â
Babcock was quiet for a second, just enjoying the feel of her considerably smaller body in his arms. âFine. I just wanted to ask you about...my wholeâŚ.situation,â he said, reluctantly releasing her so she could face him. âYou know I havenât eaten anything humans eat in the past...month, or so.â
Kirsty nodded. âYou must be starving.â One of her hands went to his cheek, stroking gently. Just so he wouldnât feel so awkward about not being human any longer, Kirsty let the magic around her fade so he could see her pale skin, pins and all.
Giles smiled gently as she changed, kissing her softly. His hands moved to her waist to pull her closer into the kiss. âIâm not so bad. Pigâs blood and such, butâŚ.remember when we talked about...the other solution?â
âMmhmm. Are you sure? I donât know if them being damned will affect you in any way. But if you can tolerate pigâs blood, it should be all right.â She was more worried about him getting ill than anything else. Food poisoning or something.
Babcock nodded. âYeah. Yeah, I donât think I even can die. Iâd ask you to shoot me in the head to prove it, but that might end bad if Iâm wrong,â he said. âBut Iâm confident about the other thing.â
âI donât know if I can either. But if youâre sure, we can go now.â She squeezed his hand. âDuke, donât follow us.â Sheâd have felt awful if her dog got lost in Hell.
Giles looked over his shoulder at the dog, and gave him a look. He was a good dog. Heâd know to stay. âOkay. Letâs do this,â said Babcock, unable to hide the growing excitement and hunger in his voice.
She nodded, taking his hand and smiling. Somehow, the house started to shake a bit, and the wall that faced the street... opened. Duke, thank goodness, ran off toward the kitchen, wanting no part of the whole endeavor. âThis way,â Kirsty said, leading him through the wall and into Hell.
Babcock took an instinctive step back and then stepped forward so he wouldnât appear frightened. He wasnât, really, he was justâŚ.surprised. Heâd never believed in Hell, and even with everything that had happened since coming to CaliforniaâŚ.well, it was one thing to âknowâ, but quite another to see it.
He took Kirstyâs hand again, following behind her into the dark.
The bottom of Kirstyâs kimono remained white and perfect, untouched by any of the dirt as they passed through a hallway toward Hell. The door to their apartment closed behind them, and Kirsty was thankful that Duke didnât get any courage at the last moment and come chasing them.
Rounding a corner, Kirsty smiled and wondered if Giles was afraid. She hoped not. It wasnât his time yet, so they wouldnât be spending too much time in Hell unless he was eating.
After a few moments, the wood floor beneath their feet gave way to stone, and they found themselves at the top of a humblingly large labyrinth, as twisting and turning as anything Escher had ever designed.
Giles held onto Kirstyâs hand like a child at the mall. He felt small and big at the same time, his eyes wandering everywhere. Shadows and flame of different colors sneaking behind twisted architecture. Off in the distance, he heard noises. Screams. âThis isâŚ.â began Giles, before forgetting heâd spoken at all. It was too crazy.
Kirsty knew that feeling. Sheâd felt it too when sheâd first come in. âI figure you can have the people whoâre to be tortured for all eternity. That way youâre fitting right in with their punishment.â She waved a hand to part a couple of walls, so they wouldnât have to puzzle out the labyrinth for themselves. Ranking had its privileges.
âWhat type of people?â asked Giles as he followed her, his eyes still darting around as his hand clutched hers. âWhat did they do to end up here?â
âTortured for all eternity? Usually murder in the ten and over range, the mass betrayers.â She led him through back hallways, past weeping women whoâd killed their lovers, people who were sobbing that what theyâd done wasnât that bad. Where she was leading Giles, there were no repentants. Many of them had been in Hell so long, they were angry. Giles would be new, and probably scarier than some of their recent torments.
âI want to know who they were,â said Giles suddenly, surprising himself. âTheir...their names. I canât explain it. But it feels important that I know. Names areâŚ.names are important.â
Kirsty just nodded. When they reached the antechamber where the worst were contained, she walked up to one of the people there and leaned down. âThis is Benedetto Caetani. Pope Boniface the eighth. Dante got a few things right, you know.â
Babcock released her hand, feeling more confident. There was something stirring beneath his flesh. He could feel every vein in his body moving like worms beneath the skin. Veins bulged and stood out on his arms and his eyes grew brighter. âA Pope? What did he do?â
âThought wealth and he himself were more important than his country or God.â Kirsty moved to sit down, crossing her legs and watching her husband. âNot every member of the clergy is in it for the right reasons.â
Giles nodded. âNone of âem are,â he agreed, taking a step closer to the restrained holy man. âYouâll want to look away.â
âNo I wonât.â Kirsty smiled at him and shook her head. âIf Iâm a monster and you are too, I want to accept you for everything.â
Babcock looked back at her, his eyes meeting hers. He moved away from the Pope despite his ravenous hunger, and took her head in his hands. Giles kissed his wife passionately, resting his forehead against hers for a brief moment. âI love you,â he said. Babcock stood, and turned to the Pope.
There was a horrible sound of bones extending and skin tightening as he grew, adding a few more feet to his already impressive height. His eyes lit up like matches, burning orbs that glowed deep in his skull. Dozens of needle-like teeth snapped downward from the roof of his mouth and gums, and his jaw extended as if unhinged. With an animalistic cry, Giles Babcock rushed forward and sank every single one of those needle teeth into his victimâs collarbone. Warm, sweet blood squirted everywhere; his face, his body, the walls, everywhere. Babcock drank, feeling the heat rush down his throat and saturate every cell of his body. He felt incredible. He felt like he could punch clean through dimensions; there was nothing like this, this unparalleled feeling of power.
He continued to feed, barely aware of what he was doing. He tore his head upwards, tearing away most of the Popeâs neck messily. He ducked back in for more, severing his victimâs head entirely. He gripped the manâs arms, breaking them away from the body and drinking from them. His hands, now long clawed fingers, sliced open the Popeâs guts and intestines spilled to the floor. Babcock drank, and drank, and ripped, and drank until Pope Boniface lay in puddle of flesh on the floor.
Kirsty watched. She couldnât understand why Giles had thought that she wouldnât want to see this; it was no different than the myriad horrors she watched everyday as she walked through Hell. But this was a bit easier on her because it had purpose. It was punishing the wicked, yes, but it was making Giles stronger. She could see it in him, she could see that he was so hungry.
Standing up once more, she put a hand on her transformed husbandâs shoulder. âHow many more?â
When he felt the hand on his shoulder, he began to shrink. His face and chest were splashed in blood. Only his eyes stood out from the bright red. Babcock bent over as if to vomit, but instead his needle-like teeth clattered to the ground like spilled, bloody toothpicks. He felt his bones rearrange and move. âNo more, no more for now,â he gasped as he returned to normal. âIf I keep going, I might not stop. Have to keep control. Keep in charge.â Giles turned to his wife.
She looked at him and cocked her head to the side, studying him as he shifted back to something more human. âIâm proud of you, Giles.â She moved to stroke his cheek, tiptoeing up to kiss him, blood or no.
Giles smiled at her, placing his palm to her cheek. âI love you. I love you so damn much,â he said.
âReady to go home now?â She could open a pathway from where they were at that moment, no more walking necessary.
He wiped his mouth off on his arm. âYeah, Iâm ready,â he said, smiling at her and grasping her hand.
The walls parted and their living room could be seen. One of the captives tried to make a break for it, but Kirsty didnât even have to look to bind him in red satin that was as unbreakable as anything in Hell. âLetâs go home.â