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Cissie King-Jones ([info]everanarcher) wrote in [info]wariscoming,
@ 2010-11-15 10:59:00

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Entry tags:cissie king-jones/arrowette, meg, simon tam

Who: Cissie!Meg and OTA
What: Another settlement bites the dust, and with any luck the capture of one of the past-arrivals, aka Meg has a mission
when: August 15, 2014, Mid-day
Where: Town not far from Camp Xander
Why: Because what father wants, father gets.


What once would have been a risky move, coming out and raiding in the mid-day sun, was no longer an issue. It was on no one's 'do not' list, and Meg was happy to feel the sun on her host's face. This body had been a mistake - though she would never admit it to anyone else. They were right. The attempt at taking Jo Harvelle had lead to her taking her younger doppleganger. But in truth? The body was doing nicely.

She watched as the hounds around her pulled people from their hiding places. It was chaos. Not something that she reveled in as much as the destruction that it brought. Their father had promised them paradise, but it was a paradise that they themselves had to build, to form. Leaving the planet for their father, as he liked it.

Ruby's return was... problematic. In more ways than one. Their father was kinder than she had ever given him credit for; welcoming back one who had so thoroughly betrayed them? There were some simple and finite rules that Meg believed in, and the first one was that spending time with humans made you weak. Humans meant emotional investment, emotional investment brought back memories of life, and memories of life made you weak. It meant you couldn't effectively bring yourself to do what you needed. Admittedly she'd been somewhat gleeful when she'd found that the sister of her namesake-host had committed suicide. She was just another link in the chain. A necessary death. It was what made her the best, the favorite. There were no attachments. Just her loyalty. And the twisted pleasure she still got from playing with Dean Winchester's head.

Watching a hound tear a young woman's skill she smirked. IF this didn't draw them out then nothing would. Their father would get what he wanted. One way or another...



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[info]mysisterisaship
2010-11-16 06:38 pm UTC (link)
Simon’s PDA had cut out in the middle of his conversations with Mal and Kaylee (apparently the apocalypse was bad for service) and he’d been wandering nearly aimlessly through the wreckage ever since growing increasingly frustrated. If he knew the Captain the man was already looking for him, intent on either securing the rogue element of his crew or doing something violent and dramatic to whatever had decided to imitate said crew member. While the other man’s refusal to realize that without a ship he wasn’t actually captain of anything but S.S. Delusions of Grandeur was at times infuriating the thought of Mal on the warparth was reassuring today. Simon would find/be found by Mal, he’d get answers, he’d find River. It always seemed to come down to Simon, stumbling around, out of his depth, trying to save River (“You left her behind and she lost her mind” echoing cruelly).

Of course there aren’t usually zombies he thought, scrambling for cover behind the gutted wreck of a car as he heard a noise in the distance. It took him a moment to realize that these weren’t the noises of a group of the infected moving through the wasteland, these noises were screams, human screams. Simon wasn’t a fighter but it wasn’t in his nature to run away physically any more than it was to turn his mind away from a difficult problem and he closed his fingers around a rusted hunk of metal (Kaylee would have known what it was but he’d still never gotten the hang of these “cars”) and, staying low, crept closer to the noises.

He’d known, on some level, what he was going to find when he got close enough to see what was happening. He’d been prepared and he was a steady hand even in the face of violence, had to be, the things he’d done to save River the first time, the after-effects he’d seen on the operating table, but what he saw in the settlement still made him blanch. Demons, he thought, curling his fingers more tightly around his makeshift weapon and forcing himself to keep his eyes on the slight blonde girl standing in the midst of the carnage even as memories of being a helpless observer behind his own eyes tried to force him into senseless fear and the screams of those being ripped apart by the hell hounds sounded around him. There’s nothing I can do here, he realized, not with just some piece of a car, on my own. Then he heard the rasp of breath nearby and edged around the cover he’d found until he saw the man (young, in his twenties, multiple puncture wounds, significant blood loss, he thought clinically) lying a few feet away.

Simon didn’t have his bag, didn’t have so much as a bandaid, but he’d taken an oath and he moved cautiously out from his cover to crouch over the young man. “It’s okay, I’m a doctor,” he said, taking better stock of the man’s injuries and trying to push back his frustrated helplessness in favor of doing what he could. “I’m going to try to move you behind cover, try to help me if you can,” he added, getting his hands under the young man’s arms. Normally he wouldn’t have moved a patient he hadn’t examined but the man’s spine actually seemed intact and, if he was honest, without any equipment or medical facilities he doubted he could do much anyway.

He had to rise a little higher to begin moving his patient but there was nothing for it, all he could do was hope that the demon would be too busy at the center of the carnage to notice Simon on its edges.

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[info]everanarcher
2010-11-18 07:29 pm UTC (link)
The demons might have been too busy, given the number of people there were in this town to flay, but Meg wasn't. She could almost sense the fear, even as the man started to move the person who was there incapacitated on the ground - one of her hounds having done his job. She understood. She could. Part of her - no not part of her, part of her host, still inside, still fighting, was screaming trying. Cissie knew. She had been in the battles, she'd been to hell or what she THOUGHT had been hell. That wasn't hell.

This doctor intrigued her. Not because he was doing his job, but because he was acting so very human. Fighting against odds that were completely irrational. He'd never win. He was one man fighting for the life of a man who would be dead within hours, if even. And she had no pity for that. They were a pestilance that needed to be purged. But this man? It really was pathetic.

She smiled down at one of her dogs, deciding to take care of this personally. She walked forward, stepping over one of the bodies and stepping on another, with an small smile on her face. "He'll die soon," She said coldly. "Nothing you do can change that." Meg liked playing with her prey. It made the game more interesting.


(ooc: yes YJ does go to hell in a crossover with Supergirl. Long story.)

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[info]mysisterisaship
2010-11-19 09:28 am UTC (link)
Simon froze for a moment, his hands convulsed on the shoulders of the man he'd been trying to drag to safety, but over the past year he'd learned to compose himself in dangerous situations. Long before that, as a surgeon, he'd learned to keep his hands steady no matter what was happening around him or under his knife.

"Well," he said, voice acerbic but unwavering, "if it's so hopeless you might as well just leave me to it." "Cranky when you're scared" River might have observed if she wasn't locked up somewhere and he had time to think: If I die now I really will have left her. I won't get another chance. Then the young man groaned softly and Simon lowered him to the ground as gently as he could. Eyes never leaving the demon he pressed a hand to the man's uninjured shoulder in silent apology before he straightened up to his full height and moved to stand between his patient and the demon.

"What now?" he asked, trying to sound resigned but unable to keep his gaze from flicking to the hunk of metal he'd dropped to get his patient behind cover, just a step away from being within his reach. "Maybe you'll get your moment," he remembered Jubal Early saying what felt like a lifetime ago.

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