Thy Will Be Done

The meek shall inherit. Mary Beth Gilbert | 18 | Witch in Atonement [This is an original character blog for the Closed RP, Unholy Origins.]

[penanceofthelamb]

More Flies with Honey || Crowley & Mary Beth

[rowansworstassistant-blog]

Empty town after empty town. It was all starting to get so predictable. Of all the things Crowley had expected the end of days to be, boring wasn’t one of them. Those that still had their sense were likely in doors, hiding away to ensure that they kept it, and there really was no telling just what had become of those that had lost it. Probably for the best.

Walking was for those that couldn’t teleport. Much more efficient. Though the speed didn’t matter much when street after street everything was empty and far too still for his tastes. He liked the quiet more than most demons, but being able to hear his own steps and the sound of the wind and nothing else was the kind of eerie that rubbed him the wrong way. Demons weren’t meant to get goosebumps, they were supposed to be the ones causing them. It was all wrong.

The next street he appeared on gave him pause as a bit of paper drifted his way. One eyebrow rose, then the second joined it as he looked up, the first human he had seen all day chasing after the paper at his feet.

He reached down and snatched it, “the wind” urging it into his hand, eyes flicking over the flyer as he straightened up. “I trust you want this back?” he said, not quite offering it.

“All faiths welcome,” he read, eyes on the paper again. “Very open minded of you. Hard to find that these days, everyone’s much more interested in looking out for number one.” Then again, if anyone was going to hold tight to whatever sanity they had at the end of the world, it would be the religious fanatics. Humans were so dedicated to their preaching and praying, begging the angels to come deliver them to salvation.

Funny how that worked out once the angels actually got there.

“So when is this little praying soiree of yours?” he asked, examining the paper again. Clearly hand made, as were the ones that he could see her holding in her arms. Judging by the lack of other do gooders assisting her, she was on her own trying to save whatever souls were left in the area. Interesting.

[penanceofthelamb]

Paper was hard to come by, a commodity now listed firmly under the ‘luxury’ list. Mary Beth was already hesitant to leave, despite the mounting anxiety that creaked in her bones. At the sound of the man’s voice, loud not out of projection but because of the quiet of the street, she paused, the extra paper crinkling in her arms as they tightened. Breathe, just breathe. Everything will turn out fine. Hopefully.

There were usually two outcomes when a person realized that Mary Beth still kept her cross handy for reasons other than protection against whatever walked the streets. Actual faith was hard to come by, mostly because the cynics had flooded in, hopeless hearts bogged down, ready to drag others down with them. Extreme distaste or awkward surprise were what she had been expecting. Usually followed by shuffling away, hopefully without any sort of snide comments. People nowadays really seemed to love those, no matter what the situation. A weird kind of post apocalyptic snark entitlement. She was still waiting for the shoe to drop with this one. 

However, genuine interest was far from her expectation. He looked like someone who belonged in an office, that smooth look of fiscal responsibility, maybe persian rugs. The finer things, the expensive. It was in the way he held his shoulders, as if he was something and knew it. Or had been something. Either way, the presence about him had a distinct echo of confidence. Or whatever used to be. 

It was true, what he said. Man betrayed man for food, for safety and shelter. There was no banding together, and even the ‘communities’ or survivors she’d seen had been hard like edges of broken glass. There was no more simplicity, no more neighborly cleanliness. 

She really did miss the way all the hedges looked after trimming. 

Don’t mumble. Don’t mumble.

“I’m hoping we uh, we’ll be meeting once a week. Preferably Sunday but, that’s just for this week. Whatever works for everyone else...”

Her voice trailed off into the dark. She should have been going. Mary Beth had more to do, but he had the paper. And maybe, just maybe, he was interested. 

“Are you, maybe, interested...?”

[moonflowermonster]

[penanceofthelamb]

Abigail Hobbs + Flowers, light and dark

[penanceofthelamb]

a little prayer never hurt nobody || serenity & mary beth

[notawhitewitch]

Prayer meeting.  That’s what the flier she’d found had said.  Serenity supposed it was safe to write down an address and a quick little map in times like these.  Anyone who would think to use it were either as dedicated crazy as this person clearly was, or up to absolutely no good at all, and if that were the case in these times, did something like that really need a map?  Still, it could be useful to attend this little meeting.  Whoever was holding it had clearly been here long than herself and that knowledge alone would prove useful.    Even if she did have to talk shop with a Jehovah’s Witness to get it.  She’d done far worse things in her life.

The little white house actually wasn’t terribly far from the domicile she’d unceremoniously apprehended for herself once Bela refused to get back into the hearse.  The goat was stubborn as hell, and it wasn’t worth fighting with her at this point.  They were where they needed to be and if Bela felt safe enough in a place to be obstinate, the witch was going to take it as a good sign.  

It was also nice to not have to worry about the goat being snatched up by predators either.  The house was locked up tight and there was a doggy door just big enough for Bela to scoot through.  It was a small comfort, but even that felt like grace in these times.  So it was with a slightly lighter heart than recently that Serenity sent out a tendril of energy to check for any tricks and traps, encountering only the spotty warding  spray painted along the white picket fence.

Okay.  Time to check for more mundane traps, only to find herself baffled there were none.  Not even a trip wire or a bell on the front gate.  Maybe this person was actually interested in sharing some semblance of succor.  The witch was so stunned she couldn’t even form one cynical sentence when the front door finally eased open just a crack.

One big blue eye peered out from inside the little house, a thin slightly quavery voice asked “Hello?”  All Serenity could do, feeling over armed somehow in this moment in her leathers with a ka-bar on one hip, her athame tucked up the sleeve of her leather jacket, and the machete in its holster across her back, was hold up the now severely wrinkled flier, and stutter “I’m here for the prayer meeting?”  How much more out of sorts was she going to feel in this strange place?  Hopefully she wouldn’t get attacked by a screaming nerd with a baseball bat this time?

[penanceofthelamb]

There was an expectation that came with seeing a woman standing outside your door, clad head to toe in black leather, armed to the teeth, a goat on a leash behind her. It wasn’t necessarily one that could be summed up in words, not completely. Perhaps by the smell. Mary Beth couldn’t help but to wrinkle her nose slightly at the potent stench of animal. Hopefully it wouldn’t have to do its business on her porch. Was the goat house trained? All these thoughts collided to finally sum up what exactly she was looking at. It was obviously something right out of a fever dream. One of those peyote visions the kids down by the farms had whenever they got bored with small town life. Not that Mary Beth would know, she’d only heard rumors.

Maybe there was something in the water supply.

It took her a moment to register that the newcomer had spoken, let alone what exactly had been said. The door cracked open wider, revealing more of the sweet, upturned face of confused innocence. The ‘door answering’ expression, as she was beginning to call it. The prayer meeting. She was here for the prayer meeting. Right. Mary Beth’s eyes dragged over the stranger again, taking in the details of what exactly was going on. Maybe it would make more sense that way. All she achieved was awkward eye contact with the goat, and of course she was the first to look away. 

Ready to slam the door closed, muscles tensing against the effort not to do so immediately, she tried to find words. Any words at all. 

“Uh...”

The symbols were on the fence. If she had been a demon or monster, then she wouldn’t have gotten through. Unless she was some kind of big bad that everyone else kept saying she wasn’t warded against. But somehow, she had a feeling the biggest of the bad wasn’t about to appear on her doorstep trying to pass itself off as a human like this. It would have done a much better job.

The silence was stretching out ridiculously now, a flatline in what was supposed to be a welcoming conversation. Sure, the weapons she could get. It was a strange place, and she wouldn’t be a good Christian soul if she didn’t give the girl the benefit of the doubt. But a goat?

“Both of you?”

What kind of prayer meeting did she think this was going to be?!

[penanceofthelamb]

stop and smell the roses | adam & mary beth

[theenvyofeden]

“Yeah, it’s…nice.”  Necessary.  In his mind’s eye Adam can see his own bony-knuckled hands under the faucet, steaming water, long fingers scrubbing pale skin, repetitively mechanically washing off the blood or ectoplasm or sulfur or, or, or.  Not one to go out looking for a fight, still he’s got a unfortunate propensity to get himself into situations.  He’s never been particularly fastidious but after some of the hunts with Dean and Sam or other accidental altercations, he gets tempted to go all Lady Macbeth.  "You know, anytime you wanna borrow a shower..there’s about five hundred of them.  As long as you can get in the door and pass the holy-water-and-silver test, we’ll give you a little stamp on your hand that says 100% Certifiable Human and you’re good to go.“

He instinctively tracks the movements when Mary Beth’s hands fold behind her back, a touch of paranoia though he knows she isn’t reaching for a weapon.  Just clutching her hands together nervously.  It’s of a piece with the blanching skin, the hesitant peeping curve of lips earlier: the girl is plainly anxious, and Adam has no room to blame her for it.  Lots of people have difficulty talking to strangers.  Talking to strangers who are more likely to want to hurt, kill, or steal from one than not cannot be encouraging to anyone naturally shy.  No, it’s best to stay on this side of the fence.

Adam can’t stop himself from snorting with derisive amusement.  Disney Magic.  Yeeeah not exactly.  If this were Disney they’d only have one villain and it’d be defeated by cleverness and love and song.  There might be less drinking too.  But he nods lightly, anyway.  It is pleasant, but not the best circumstances for familial bonding.  Not what Adam would have chosen.

"Not sure tea bags count as offensive weapons. Yeah, no, I wouldn’t tell you that.  I mean, it’s…prudent? to have some way to defend yourself, but evading confrontations is the best way to go, if you can.  I’m not real good at it, either.  I never even picked up a gun before…” Before I died.  Not the thing to say right now.  Instead, the kid shrugs loosely.  “But, speaking of evasion…”  Leaning back, Adam eyes the sigils on the wood.  "Did you put these here?“

The following query recalls him to himself, and he turns to look in the direction of the hotel.  He really ought to be getting back.  "Well.  It’s not very smart, but sometimes I just have to get out of there.  I usually just go to the university library -” He motions towards it with his head. “- and read, or borrow some books.  Some days it’s real imperative that have somewhere to escape, and books are good for that.  But I really should head back before they get all antsy.”  But he doesn’t, not just yet, hands still resting on the fence, boots planted solidly on the cracked sidewalk.

[penanceofthelamb]

How long had it been since she’d had a warm shower? A real shower that didn’t have to be boiled on a fire, or applied with old towels. One that didn’t come from a hand pump in the backyard of some old Kansas town. The thought was tantalizing, but caution won out, as it always did in the new world. “Is there a theme park with it? That’s usually what it means when you have your hand stamped. I think.” At least, it used to be.  

There was a moment there, where Mary Beth thought that she’d have to elaborate. She wasn’t the arguing kind, the only downfall to being a Witness. Discussion was rough at the best of times, a new kind of trial and tribulation. There was something about disagreement that sat in her stomach like a stone, hard. Paired with her already corroding insides, rotting down to nothing slowly yet surely, it broke apart inside, sending slivers of sharp rock through her. Distinctly uncomfortable, to be avoided at all costs. Lots of things made her uncomfortable now. 

Her mind half caught in past, barely clinging to the present and hardly wanting to, she nodded along to his train of thought, his explanations for self defense. There was some measure of relief, pulsing through her like a jolt, a hand held and squeezed in comfort. At least she wasn’t the only one who had never used a gun before. The things terrified her, so big and loud. The recoil looked painful, nevermind how it actually felt. Mary Beth would have rather hidden any day of the week.

There was a part of her that wanted to be recognized. 

      {See what I can do. See that I can be useful, that I know what I’m doing.} 

That kind of need was dangerous. Recognition froze her, made it harder to function, to do what had to be done. Better to be underestimated than to be seen in full measure. The Lord saw her as she was, as she wanted to be. That would have to be enough for her.  

“No. They were here when I came. They keep the bad stuff out, I know that much.”

The explanation was expected- foraging. Getting away from the apocalyptic car ride. Books, however, had been unexpected. Another luxury that she’d gone so long without. Mary Beth hadn’t been much of a reader, but she’d had her favorites. It wasn’t the unknown she took delight in, but the known made new and safe over and over again. ‘Little House on the Prairie’, ‘Anne of Green Gables’, ‘A Little Princess’- Her bookshelf had been small, but comforting. The university probably wouldn’t have had those old comforts, but it was nice to dream. 

He was still there, still leaning over that fence. It wasn’t a web of her own invention- it was that fence. That trick of hearth and home. They were both caught in it, standing on opposite sides, unable to keep from smiling as they basked in it. Or rather, she was basking in it, the warm glow of familiarity. 

“That’s probably for the best.”

Mary Beth didn’t move away. She stepped closer instead, placing her own hand, hesitantly on the fence, pulling it from behind her back, a bird on a live wire. Would it shock? Would it burn?

“Do you have any books with you now?”

[wrathofthefather]

Let’s Get Biblical || Mary Beth & Michael

[wrathofthefather]

She took her time in answering and he could smell the uncertainty in her blood, confusing coursing through her silently. Her atoms shifted and fleeted when her eyes dropped, almost as if refusing to look at him. Stuck between two very different courses of action. As if she knew him without knowing his name. He wouldn’t delve into her mind. He had no interest in it. She had answered when posed a question. Slower than he cared for, but she had answered. He had a resource of patience far deeper than most could imagine or even begin to fathom. A simple answer to a simple question at the given time in the world was enough to warrant his minute interest.

She wasn’t a monster.

His lips twitched into a faint smile. A passing thought. He knew as much already. A perception forged and bestowed through the hand of God Himself wouldn’t have permitted such an oversight. Not on His son’s part. No demon, no bloodthirsty beast. Nothing fallen from grace. She was human, one of his Father’s beloved, and one Michael was intended to love as well. And he did, for what it was worth. What his Father loved, so did Michael. From her, the faint glimmered of ions that shimmered about her like torn silver, he saw hope.

Hope carried a frying pan and reservations.

Humanity.

Some of his brothers and sisters would have seen fit to label her a monster, the worst abomination their Father had created. Michael had never hated them or despised them for the love his Father had given them. Not as Lucifer had. The eldest archangel tugged his thoughts violently away from his brother and instead focused on the human who fell under his scope of protection.

One of many.

She was hopeful and she knew the patriarch of the house they stood in without question. His interest began its slow shift from minute to genuine, full-fledged interest. It would take its time, just as her answering did. She paused, wavering in apprehension, and he looked down at her, immovable. The humans he had made himself known to had been questioning and without understanding, then angered upon receiving their answers they hadn’t desired. This one could have been different, busy with ideals of free will and her apprehension a sheer covering just to obscure it. It could have been, but her hope wasn’t obscured. He could see it, feel it through the void skin he wore.

‘May I?’

One brow rose slowly and his eyes moved from her to the dirtied church walls that housed them. Michael only gave orders to the angels and she was not one of them. Her question was unnecessary, but he humored her.

“You may,” he said with a nod. “Do as you please.”

He finally moved, breaking the stillness of his vessel as he took a step to the side. The archangel no longer blocked her view of the intact mural or the barren altar as he stooped to gather the mess the monsters had made.

“You’re one of the faithful,” he observed as he knelt to gather more crumpled pages. He did not reach with power and instead opted for slower simplicity, the way his Father’s humans were forced to get anything done. The archangel remained knelt as he looked up at her and tipped his head back. “There are far too few and fewer growing still each day. And you are alone. I suppose that’s telling of the days.”

The pages crinkled in his hands as he stacked them and he permitted a moment of silence to interrupt him before raising his voice again.

“Who are you?”

[penanceofthelamb]

At his permission, her breath left her in a thankful exhale. Had she been holding it? Mary Beth couldn’t remember. With cautious, measured steps, she approached the altar, hesitating at the edge of the first rise. There was a rigidity to the air around them, a sense of propriety that scented the air like thick smog. Mary Beth had never felt such a powerful relief from suffocation. It wasn’t the sort of religious feeling she was used to in her days, more of what she’d heard other faiths were like. There was something casual yet respectful in the worship sessions she’d attended when the world had still been right side up. This was something altogether new, a feeling that pushed down on her, crushing, reforming. 

Was he some kind of priest? A Catholic Father, maybe. He spoke as if he was, walked as if he was. As if he had power in this space, knew it. Here was the gatekeeper, his posture seemed to say. How could she not resist bending to that kind of absolute authority? It was a relief, to an extent, that another one of her kind, a true believer...his iron will remained on Earth. All the good he could do.

And yet.

And yet.

                                  {He’s still here like me. Damned like me.}

Slowly, she mounted the steps, sinking to her knees to help, gathering up the scattered papers. Lord delivers manna, the followers collect. Not too far off from the truth. The lack of faith in the world was its own starvation.

Faithful. She hoped she was. It was all she could be now. 

“Not by choice. My family is in a better place now.”

Some regret lingered that she couldn’t go with them, that she hadn’t been seen fit to be taken into the Lords arms. All she could do was help to ease their passing. 

She glanced over at him from the other side of the altar, having to peer around the wood to get a better view of him. He was young to be a Priest, but then again, she was young to be chosen. Capability beat out age any day of the week. 

“Mary Beth. My name’s Mary Beth.”

Standing, she placed the papers back on the altar, shuffling them this way and that. Crinkled pages rebelled, making it hard to keep them straight and neat. Mary Beth knew it was rude to stare, but her gaze was drawn back to him over and over again, like a magnet to refrigerator. Maybe it was the the sight of another person, one that she was less wary of that made her want to drink and drink it all in. Maybe it was his demeanor. Uncertainty had no place in a house of faith, however, and she forced her eyes back to the task at hand.

“And what about you? You’re alone too.”

[wileofthedevil-blog]

a little dark outside | open

[wileofthedevil-blog]

With a devilish glint in her eyes, the demon could hardly resist nearing the girl, obviously locked on her like her prey. Among the chaos, there was never time to just have fun, and boy, was she ready to start having it. 

“Dontcha wanna hang around? I mean, you’re already out, right?” she asked, amusement evident in her voice.

In the shadowy evening, her eyes consumed no light, the dark hues of her irises almost making them seem black despite the fact that she felt no desire to heighten the girl’s anxiety with their true shade of inky black. Just her presence alone sparked fear into her very core, and Meg was highly aware of that. 

“Y’don’t seem as cuckoo for cocoa puffs as the others, what’s your secret?”

[penanceofthelamb]

Presence, lack thereof. People, places, permanence- all inspired fear, a nail biting, gnawing rip of shivering anticipation. The kind that had you peering over the edge of a building, contemplating what exactly would happen if you jumped; that moment right before your decision when for a heartbeat, you thought you could. But would you? 

The power was thickening like pancake mix as Mary Beth leaned as far away as she could from the edge. 

And a step back. Another. It was weakness she couldn’t help, small trembling at the woman before her. Or what that could mean. Mary Beth swallowed hard, trying to keep her hands from wringing her skirt fabric to a wrinkled mess. 

Speaking of mess, how the heck did she get out of this one? 

“I told you...” Breathe in, breathe out.

“I was just going home. I don’t- I don’t want any trouble.”

The woman practically oozed it, danger. Some people in the turn of the world became knife edges, glinting and steely in shattered moonlight. This woman was nothing like that, nothing so cold or protective. It was fire. It was inferno, the tilt of the smile, the wild glint in the eyes. 

Her small fingers tightened, curling into fists. Not to fight, but to keep in. Keep it all in.

[moonflowermonster]

Help me if you can. It’s just that this, this is not the way I’m wired. So could you please, help me understand why…

[hotlipsyouincrediblenincompoop]

Visit Original Link

[alittlehappyplace]

In God’s plan of salvation, we are being molded, shaped, and polished to become like Him.

Allan F. Packer (via alittlehappyplace)

[penanceofthelamb]

stop and smell the roses | adam & mary beth

[theenvyofeden]

  Ɨt’s strange, the way the girl calms visibly when he shows the flask. Well, it’s reassuring in a way; if she were a demon she wouldn’t be pleased to know he was armed with holy water. And perhaps another of the rare, semi-sane humans left would be relieved to know he is also a rare, semi-sane human, sane enough to arm himself against the threats out here instead of walking about blithely. But…that’s not the cause. 

  Then she stands, and he notices the glint of gold swaying at her neck, the simple crucifix pendant that raises all kinds of unconscious resentment in Adam. Oh, right. There’s a cross on the flask. Are there legitimately still people that believe in the Christian dogma walking around? It’s mystifying to contemplate, but Adam is not about to question it aloud. Particularly not if it helps her trust him. Aside from this little delusion, she appears refreshingly compos mentis. 

  Taking that small hand in his larger one, Adam shakes it perfunctorily with no unnecessary squeezing, the kind he’s come to expect meeting other hunters. Alpha-dog bullshit. In those situations Adam doesn’t hesitate to roll over and bare his throat, metaphorically, because what’s the point to pretending he’s more than he is? As novice as one can be. 

  “Mary Beth.” He nods once, releasing her hand, to show that he got the message. Adam just can’t get over how charmingly normal all of this feels; he’s grateful that it wasn’t ruined by having to try to kill her. “Nice to meet you." 

  Both hands drop now to rest casually atop the warded fence. Another modicum of reassurance: the fence is protected against most of the monsters that are running amok, and he can touch it, therefore he is not one. He notices that the angelic warding symbols are missing from the basic displays; but then, most people don’t think of angels the way he does. The kid smirks faintly as she answers her own question, with a small shake of the head. "Not running, no, but it’s still pretty cosy. Hot water. Electricity. I’m not sure how long any of it will last, but I could say that about the rest of the world, too." 

  Adam doesn’t seem too resolved on being invited into the yard; truthfully, he should be returning to headquarters. Mary Beth may not be a monster herself, but there are still plenty of them out here and it’s too exposed. The kid still finds the normalcy enchanting, though, so he remains.

  "What, living with my brothers? Yeah, it’s making me pretty nuts. I was an only child - uh, raised that way, I mean - so the whole overbearing, super-protective thing is new. But there’s room to get away from them when I need to, and it’s better than going it alone.” Which thought causes him to lift his eyes to the house behind her, scrutinizing the exterior. The place doesn’t seem to have deteriorated too much Since, but it does have a certain forlorn quality that makes him think it was empty for some time, and that Mary Beth hasn’t been occupying it long. “Are you staying alone here? I hope you’re well-armed.”

[penanceofthelamb]

Draped over the fence like that, Mary Beth half expected the jingle for a Coca Cola commercial to ring out. Psych, world! It was just a daringly casual move, and although Mary Beth couldn’t bring herself to copy it, she could definitely appreciate it. Whether or not it was for her own benefit or from the growing comfort of the situation was unclear, although it did make it obvious that he wasn’t out to harm her. It had been months, and still the symbols marked and painted across the Earth meant little more to her than signs of safety. They varied in a thousand different ways, she could hardly remember what her own looked like on the fence. They weren’t of her making, although she was more than grateful for their presence. 

It meant he was safe. Whatever that was worth. Humans were sometimes worse than what lurked in the darkness. It were those who dared to face down the light, knowing what they were...they were the ones who needed to have symbols against them. Were there? She would have to look further into it, if she had the chance. For the moment, she was simply happy to abide by what Providence gave to her. And it really was a nice house. 

Mary Beth clasped her hands behind her back, more out of an uncertainty as to what to do with them than anything else. She’d always been the painfully shy one- Margaret had taken the brunt of the interaction for them both. Without her, it was like trying to navigate a boat without stars. But she was learning, learning how to make do. It wouldn’t be long now before they were all back together again. And if it was, well, that was in the Lord’s hands. She would do what must be done until that time when she was welcomed among them. Home again, home at last.

“Hot water...that really sounds nice.”

A hot shower, maybe even a bath if she dared to dream big enough. Cold water from a bucket only got her so far. Maybe they had those little soaps still there, if it hadn’t been ransacked yet. Ask for one? Don’t? She ignored the end of the world comment. That was the kind of negative thinking Mary Beth kicked herself for- it got nothing done. Optimism was key, even against gritted teeth and bloody hands.

                            {It will get better. It has to get better.}

“That sounds like a lot to get used to...but it must be nice. Suddenly, there’s a family. Magic, sort of. The good kind you see in Disney movies.”

The kind that didn’t exist.

At his turn of attention, her eyes followed, going to the lonely house behind her. Lonely? No. Not lonely. Just empty.

“I have a frying pan, some oven mitts, and the special signs. Maybe some tea bags if I can spare them...”

And a hand. A dangerous hand. Mary Beth closed her right hand into a fist, pressing it against her lower spine. 

“I’m not really great with a weapon...don’t tell me it’s a bad thing, I know that. I just...”

She shrugged, unable to continue. No more lives taken by her. Ever. The devil inside her, now that was a different story entirely.

"If you're staying in the hotel, what are you doing down here?"

Change the subject. No big deal. Everything is fine.

[ghostling]

[wileofthedevil-blog]

a little dark outside | open

[penanceofthelamb]

wileofthedevil:

“Do you know what time it is? 

“Ain’t it a little late to be hanging around outside of your little, protected playpen? You don’t know how many beasts are consumed by bloodlust around this time.”

Beasts like her.

Time was a nonentity in the world now, a world judged by day and night alone. There were ways to keep track, although what they were, Mary Beth wasn’t entirely sure. She opened her mouth to answer just that to the woman’s question, before realizing…

Perhaps that had been rhetorical.

It had taken a while for her to hang the rest of the posters, and she was finally done, the brightly colored paper dotting town like the path to religious Candyland. Walking home in the dark hadn’t been her intent, and as the light faded in the distance, the voice had her pausing, glancing over her shoulder.

“…I’m just on my way home.”

Her voice was soft, non combative.

                       {Just leave me alone. Please, just leave me alone.}

[penanceofthelamb]

More Flies with Honey || Crowley & Mary Beth

pragmatistatacrossroad

Desolate towns came from desolation of spirit- everyone knew that. From fathers to sons, mothers to daughters, it was passed on in lessons, in words, in all they did. Spirit was what made a community really shine, regardless. Not the obnoxious shouting and clapping and stomping that came with what others regularly referred to as ‘spirit’. It was a strength deep within, as her parents had described it. A knowledge that the Lord’s love was yours, if only you were brave enough to reach out and accept it. 

A test like this had the world running blind, the saved missing, the damned lacking proper moral guidance. Where could anyone turn when everything was all headed in one solid direction: down? As hard as Mary Beth tried, there was little she could do to save the world. Maybe it was distinctly un-Christian of her to think that way, but she couldn’t convert Purgatory itself. All she could do was help, look after her own soul’s keeping and tending. Maybe if the unlucky other fell into her path, she’d be able to offer assistance. Company. Everyone needed company in a world more likely to stab you than shake your hand. 

It was what she did in every town, that sad sort of hope for betterment. Establish herself, her chosen home as a place of sanctuary, let the flock come to her. More often than not, this ended in robbery, attempted attacks, so many downfalls. It was enough to break anyone. But Mary Beth had work to do, and even as she attempted to do good, there were more important things at stake. It was kinder to purge, in the very end. To wipe the stains of corruption away rather than trying to convert them to pure, clean water. She wasn’t a miracle worker, she couldn’t change it all by herself. That was up to those far greater than her. The Lord had a plan in mind. He always did, what mattered was holding onto faith and holding out long enough to see it through.

Mary Beth had made the flyers for the meeting herself, in bright colored paper and Sharpies found in the Shaw’s supply closet. Come pray for the deliverance of the world. All faiths are welcome.

She couldn’t afford to be picky, not in these times. She made do with what she had, such as old thumbtacks, the occasional nail still protruding from useless telephone poles. Mary Beth struggled against the November wind, trying to hold the pages from being tugged away from her, even as the poster refused to cooperate with the thumb tack. Struggling, she pushed against the tack, hoping for at least a little give. There was success! The pin slid home into the wood. 

The wind took its opportunity.

Papers were set free from under her arm, spiraling down the street. Alarmed, she turned, clutching the remaining stack like a buoy. 

“Oh, come on!”

She took off down the street after them, bending to collect where they’d been placed by the mischievous gust. Like a trail of bread crumbs they led her, bright colors against dull and broken road. A pair of shoes in the distance had her looking up.

There was one right by his foot. Mary Beth stopped before she reached it, the papers now held to her like a protected child. Uncertainty skittered across her face as she stared at the newcomer. A man.

Well, that looked like one piece of paper gone. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth as she struggled with indecision. Wasting paper now was definitely not something she wanted to do. But then again, when a strange man appeared on an empty street, even in broad daylight, some things had to be let go.

A step back. A nod to the newcomer. A decision had been reached. 

It was time to go.

[yoursoultowaste-blog]

WF Witch Seeks Victims || Lucifer & Mary Beth

[yoursoultowaste-blog]

While darling little Mary Beth’s back was turned, Lucifer allowed himself a smile over the top of her head. The door gently swung, closing him in with her.

Stuffed with heat and stale air, the house was a miserable place to live. Excellent. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shambled into the kitchen after her. All at once, he was confronted with the most depressing place he’d ever seen. Pots and pans hung from a steel mesh on the wall, the half-broken wooden cabinet was pink, the seats of the chairs all matched the worn checked tablecloth, and were those really flowers against the wall? In his disgust, he nearly forgot his lines.

“You haven’t heard of what’s been happening in town?” His tone stayed surprised and solemn, as he struggled to keep the peevishness out. He didn’t like being ignored. His handiwork—even when delivered unto the world through unimaginative little demons—deserved to be admired. The destruction of the Kingdom Hall had been dedicated to every believer, clinging to their faith in these end times. What, did he need to stick a plaque on it to get some recognition around here?

‘Gratefully’ accepting a glass of water from Mary Beth, he shook his head. “Wish I didn’t repay a kindness with bad news, little lady. The hall was levelled. By demons, they’re calling them.” Sentient larvae that talk. “People say those inside were still praying as they died.” He lowered his eyes to his glass in sympathetic mourning.

Of course, he thought unwillingly, maybe she hadn’t known because she wasn’t at the epicentre of it. Maybe she was a true artist of suffering, an egoist like the best of them: if it wasn’t her masterpiece, it didn’t warrant her regard.

Possessive overprotectiveness gently tickled Lucifer’s insides. Stupid and uncreative they might be, but those demons were his. He had some pride—and more importantly, some responsibility—for what they vomited into the world. He didn’t like to be caught slacking. Taking a slow sip of water (it tasted like mud and dead bodies; delicious), he considered his purpose here.

Retrieve Pestilence’s ring and leave ASAP to resume the apocalypse, taking into account this new constructive criticism. That he was going to accept with a smile. While leaving Mary Beth slowly dying of her own poison, of course, but all in good time. 

[penanceofthelamb]

The kitchen, despite the haunting stench of rotting meat from the broken fridge in the corner, was probably one of Mary Beth’s favorite rooms in the entire house. It was sweet, quaint in a way temporary homes couldn’t possibly have been. There was a permanence about the pinks, the order it had once held before it had been ransacked. Eternal spring maybe, always on a upward beat. The right way to start off a day- if Mary Beth could ever get her hands on proper breakfast fixings. Gosh, sometimes she could have sworn she smelled eggs sizzling on the gas stove. One day. One day, maybe.

Silence could be its own reward, and she merely shook her head at the question. Mary Beth was new to the town, barely getting to know its ins and outs. There had been a Kingdom Hall here...key words being had been. The highs and lows of news in the modern day. Hope was a day late and a dollar short in most places, but apparently Lawrence had the worst of it. Thankfully, the glass was already in her guest’s hand when he finally told her what had happened. 

                                                  {Oh Lord in Heaven.}

The buildings in every town were wrecked, destroyed, burned, who could even name what else? The real, physical evidence was there, but like a child with her fingers plugging her ears, Mary Beth had refused to think of the ‘how’ in depth, no farther than just the End of Days. It was simply what happened, the backdrop to her quest. The focus of it, pinpoint images coming in sharp and clear. People, Witnesses just like her, so desperate for salvation, eager for redemption- having it all snatched away in a moment. Mary Beth sank into the chair across from her guest, pale. 

“I...”

She needed some water herself. Mary Beth took a deep breath, head pounding at the thought. Would that be her? So close to salvation, only to be cut down with the end in sight? 

“I had no idea.”

 Had he been there? Had he seen it all happen? Wait...

If he was a Witness, why had he not been at the meeting? Was he from out of town? The area?

What was she doing, being suspicious? There was no reason, just that old feeling of fear, months and months of running and hiding could do that to a person. As long as she didn’t let it get in the way of the work she was sent to do. 

Mary Beth reached out a hand across the table, hesitating only for a moment. Maybe touching wasn’t the best. Didn’t want anyone to get any ideas. She laid it on the grain of the table. The other drifted up to the small cross around her neck, the gold hidden beneath her sweater. The glint of the chain around her neck caught the afternoon light, filtering through the window.

“I am so sorry. Did you know anyone who was... inside?”

[penanceofthelamb]

How could you let looters steal half your kitchen???

That wasn’t my fault! They got here before me. Besides, it’s only the supplies that are gone. The kitchen itself is still there, and there’s always hope. Besides, I did find that frying pan. Not all is lost!

[penanceofthelamb]

basket case | zoe & mary beth

[rolledinonaharley-blog]

It’s unlike her to leave the bay door open, but with enough things sitting around to take a good swing at whatever happened to cross that threshold (if they could at all, honestly) she figured letting in some fresh air would do her and the garage both some good. Everything else was locked up, tight and secure, and as long as she kept a relatively good eye on the wide opening Zoe didn’t have a lot to worry about.

Or at least that was her hope.

Being stuck in this garage for nearly four and a half months watching the world go to shit had been a shock. She didn’t have anywhere else to go though, so it’s not like she could go find mommy and daddy and hole up with them somewhere. Her luck was they were both dead or insane anyway, which in her eyes, served them right. 

Zoe had spent so much time lately in the shop, organizing and reorganizing over and over again that she wasn’t entirely sure where anything really was anymore. That certainly needed to stop if she was going to have a point to all this OCD clean-up crap she’d been up to lately. Going on scouting runs with the boys had been off limits thus far, partially because she preferred staying on her bike for as much of a ride as she could, and honestly, it was a little loud. Also because they didn’t trust her with a gun, had found her swinging a tire iron and drunk out of her mind. She’s lucky they didn’t shoot her but there was enough difference between a drunk and a ‘crazy’ that they’d spared her life.

She’s standing in the equipment closet at the back corner of the garage, having just checked the juice on all the car batteries she’d been collecting over time. To say she wasn’t a fan of not having electricity and knowing it was inevitable made her a nervous wreck, so she was doing what she could to prolong the inevitable. However finding a generator had been the latest thing on her list. 

A small voice from near the door had her automatically reaching for the same tire iron she’d swung at the heads of the Winchesters months previous, and stepping back against the door to peek around the corner and look through the slit between the door and the wall. Just a girl. Maybe.

“Who are ya and whatta ya want?”

Leave no room for questions to be asked. Get answers. If answers came, but this girl didn’t make it past the devils trap lining the ceiling, find a way to take her out. Trust no one. God you’d think she was an honorary Winchester by now. Just not as tall.

[penanceofthelamb]

Surprises Mary Beth would have expected from within the depths of the dark garage were numerous- monsters, thieves, murderers, Maybe some kind of satanic cult. The worst of the worst could have lived there, and all Mary Beth had was a broken bike to protect herself with. On the edge of flight, she hung desperately on the silence, waiting for some kind of response. When it came, she fairly toppled over.

There was a woman in there?

Her hands tightened on the bicycle handlebars, gaze darting about. Had she imagined it? No, that had been too harsh of a response to have come from her imagination, cracking through the air to land on her ears soundly and squarely. Flinching back, she didn’t peer into the darkness, trying to make sense of the shadows. What if she saw something she wasn’t supposed to see?  Then there was no way to sneak out, and she didn’t want to leave her new bicycle behind- not after just finding it! Shrinking behind the metal frame slightly, giving her at least some kind of barrier.

“Uh...”

Her stomach was like a rock, dropped down to her toes. Swallowing hard, she tried to move past the sudden blockade the words made in her throat, constricting. Why couldn’t she be better at this? Words made everything so much easier, and sure she could use the absence of them to move through the world. But in a situation like this, what more could quiet do? Against the hard wall of brash and brazen, there just wasn’t any contest. Her knuckles turned white as they clung to the bike. 

Leaves in the wind had nothing on her as she tried to keep the shaking to a minimum this time around. Strangers weren’t the scariest things out there, it was the possibility of what they could be. Their potential. But was she no better than the new world if she too forgot her manners? Forgot that everyone had a story worth sharing, worth trusting to a certain extent? Mary Beth wasn’t about to extend her neck, by any means, but there had to be give somewhere. And she had always been a giver.

“My name’s Mary Beth. Is the uh...Is the mechanic around?”

[areyouhummingmetallica]

jigsaw || sam & mary beth

[areyouhummingmetallica]

☽ - “judging from the lock on the door…

i’m not the first person to break in here…”

he points that out as par for the course.  maybe it had been the girl, maybe not - but that front lock wasn’t sturdy enough to keep out a strong wind, much less anything else.  then again, breaking an entering was also par for the course, at least when your name was winchester - and knocking usually ended up with someone pointing a gun straight at you - even then, that was on a good day.  and it’s not like he could pull the usual gig -

stroll on up and flash a smile - a fake id - a few tumbled but persuasive lies about whoever he was pretending to be that day.  reporter, fbi, forrest ranger, cable guy, and - on one really weird occasion… priest.

“…besides… i didn’t break in - i just… turned the handle and pushed.”

okay, so he’d broken in.  but did it really count if all you had to do was just open the door?   whatever.  semantics. however, he’s keeping his voice low, steady and free of any hint of malice - no anger at the small attack - no real harm done…

“yeah, i know what those are.   which is why i figured there might actually be someone alive in here…”

something wasn’t fitting - didn’t slot into place.  the busted lock.  the ‘home alone’ affair.  the house itself was clean, neat and tidy, and - once he’d allowed himself the brief luxury of a quick glance around the room - there didn’t appear to be a speck of dust.  there also didn’t appear to be a blue eyed, dark haired girl included in the family menagerie of photographs that adorned more than a few of those spick and span surfaces.

maybe suzy-homemaker had just made herself at home.

hands crossed in front of him, the pan dangling loosely from one, the other absently rubbing at his wrist ( that was gonna leave one hell of a bruise ) - lips purse, but he stays back, far enough away for those hands to lower.  he honestly hadn’t meant to scare anyone ( hence the announcement when he’d entered ) -

“…do you know what they are?”

a small quirk or brow with the question, but then she seems to latch on to the rest - and it’s a small relief at least, that there’s some semblence of sanity to the conversation - no screaming or yelling, no gibberish or rocking, blank eyed catatonia… so far so good?  ish…

“sam… my name’s sam…”

a repetition of the introduction he’d called out in the first place.  but when you were running on fear, sometimes it was the little things that fell through the cracks.

“okay, mary beth, now that we’re on first name terms… i’m gonna give this back…”

it was a gesture of something along the lines of trust - if not actually that… it might make her feel a little better about him being there anyway.  turning the pan slowly in his hand and holding it out - handle toward the other…

“…just - don’t try to hit me with it again, yeah? you want me to take a look at that lock for you?   maybe save someone else from a… battering…”

and the last part is spoken slightly wryly - because fuck the apocacrap - there was always time for a good pan pun.

[penanceofthelamb]

For someone so big, he was smart. A little too quick to use the normal methods on. Ok, so the lock hadn’t exactly been intact when Mary Beth had first arrived either- looters were everywhere, insane minds looking for shadows in old, empty houses. They had both found the house in the same state, although she’d found it far more empty than the stranger had. There wasn’t a reason to push him in circles, to distort really, now that they were slowly coming down from their stand off. Hopefully, if she’d played it right, he thought the aggression all on his own side. After all, he had her weapon. What more could she have?

Mary Beth let him talk, although it was a thin line between allowing for the purpose of avoiding saying anything at all and having the words hesitate in her throat to begin with. It was easier not to struggle against it, the lack. It did her better in the long run, at any rate. People who were allowed to talk, more often than not, revealed more than she gave in return. Wide eyed and somber, she listened quietly.

Waiting. Patience was a virtue, after all.

                                        {See what they want to see.}

There was little need to trick the stranger any longer, but still, it was better safe than sorry.

Mary Beth shook her head. No. The symbols were a mystery to her.

“They mean the bad things can’t get you, right? All the bad stuff out there...”

She let her eyes drift behind him to where the entrance was. Out there- it wasn’t just sin anymore. It was damnation born again. 

“Sam.” She repeated.

They moved as if they were dancing. He extended the pan back to her, Mary Beth hardly daring to move. The peace they had reached was tentative. Conditional. There were shadows in the water, and too much splashing would dredge them up the surface, jaws and teeth gaping wide. When Sam stilled was the moment she moved, reaching out her own hand just as slowly, eyes flicking from his, to the pan, and back again. A trap? A trick? 

Her fingers wrapped around the metal, and she extracted it, bringing it back to her chest like a safety blanket, more defense than offense. 

           {Well, don’t break into people’s houses, and we wouldn’t be having this                                 problem.}

Mary Beth’s gaze moved to the floor, her head giving an assenting nod, rather choosing less incendiary words. She hated it when she made enemies- the feeling of their dislike burned in her gut like a burning hot brand.

“Sorry...You sort of...”

The scared me was heavily implied. At the offer, her eyes snapped back to his. He wanted to...help her? Sure, checking on her had been some kind of excuse, maybe. Find the food, get out. Now that it was obvious she wasn’t a threat, he could have just taken what he wanted and left. 

Maybe there were some good souls left in this purgatory with her. 

The thought brought a smile, hesitant and cautious in a moment, at turns hopeful and confused, right to her face.

Wait...had he been trying to make a joke? Mary Beth hadn’t ever been the best at puns, and the sound of it going straight over her head was clear as a gong.

“You could do that?”

The frown was back, fear and a hard won knowledge of the new world as it was pulling her back from leaning in to his help like warm rain. Refreshing, unknown in a drought.

“I don’t have anything to pay you with, though...Not right now.”