Meg Masters (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
putuporshutup) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisalogs2014-01-18 11:23 am
putuporshutup) wrote in paradisalogs2014-01-18 11:23 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Meg, Tex, & Omega with an open section for a gruesome discovery to come later
What: Consequences
When: The night of January 14th
Where: Third Floor
Rating: R for violent torture and gruesome death.
Meg was shellshocked. She had been holed up in her room since the night before, journal tightly shut and shoved into a dresser drawer beneath a pile of clothing. Her face was streaked with tears, her slight body shook from fatigue coupled with the consumption of too many various stimulants to put off the inevitable trauma of falling asleep.
The ritual was one of the most horrific things she could remember enduring. It made the aftermath of her first brush with humanity in Paradisa look like a cake walk, and was right on par with Crowley's idea of a good time. Eight hours of pure pain and roughly another day of misery later, and she felt as broken as she had the first day she desperately crawled off the rack in hell.
It was of little comfort that Silva was dead - she wanted him to hurt like she was hurting; though she supposed no mortal possibly could. This was thousands upon thousands of years of regret, piled on top of the shame of getting caught off guard once again. Her now very human mind and sense of morality were focused inward, berating herself for the size of her ego.
How would she face Cas? How would she face anyone? Surely some would think she had gone too far - taking the opportunity to appease the other residents' general distaste for murder was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. Now she was a murderer here, too, any way you sliced it.
She felt weak, her body aching from the influx of foreign blood and sore on top of that where Silva had struck her multiple times. It was only a matter of time before she nodded off, only to be awoken by her own sobs not a half an hour later after vivid visions of Crowley - still in her head after months of relative happiness here - taunting and as he tortured her.
Meg couldn't take it. She had to get out, go for a walk - something, anything to stay awake. She had no idea what a mistake it would be when she finally rolled herself off the bed and started for the door.
What: Consequences
When: The night of January 14th
Where: Third Floor
Rating: R for violent torture and gruesome death.
Meg was shellshocked. She had been holed up in her room since the night before, journal tightly shut and shoved into a dresser drawer beneath a pile of clothing. Her face was streaked with tears, her slight body shook from fatigue coupled with the consumption of too many various stimulants to put off the inevitable trauma of falling asleep.
The ritual was one of the most horrific things she could remember enduring. It made the aftermath of her first brush with humanity in Paradisa look like a cake walk, and was right on par with Crowley's idea of a good time. Eight hours of pure pain and roughly another day of misery later, and she felt as broken as she had the first day she desperately crawled off the rack in hell.
It was of little comfort that Silva was dead - she wanted him to hurt like she was hurting; though she supposed no mortal possibly could. This was thousands upon thousands of years of regret, piled on top of the shame of getting caught off guard once again. Her now very human mind and sense of morality were focused inward, berating herself for the size of her ego.
How would she face Cas? How would she face anyone? Surely some would think she had gone too far - taking the opportunity to appease the other residents' general distaste for murder was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. Now she was a murderer here, too, any way you sliced it.
She felt weak, her body aching from the influx of foreign blood and sore on top of that where Silva had struck her multiple times. It was only a matter of time before she nodded off, only to be awoken by her own sobs not a half an hour later after vivid visions of Crowley - still in her head after months of relative happiness here - taunting and as he tortured her.
Meg couldn't take it. She had to get out, go for a walk - something, anything to stay awake. She had no idea what a mistake it would be when she finally rolled herself off the bed and started for the door.