#prov; starter

[elimarkos-blog]

     location: Providence Park      time: dawn           ( open )

Sunrise finds him kneeling in the dirt of what used to be farmland, in the area surrounding the haven they’ve taken to calling providence park. The scent of loam, thick in the air, feels like a bit of a betrayal, a promise of fresh starts and new life where he knows there is no such thing. Others, he knows, have felt God’s absence like an ache, but he never really felt God to begin with so instead he sees it in their faces as he passes them by, offering out a hand on the shoulder, a tiny benediction. 

Things should be growing here.

They should be doing something. Something other than hiding, to fix the mess they’ve made. But it is so beyond the scale of human comprehension, he doesn’t even know what there is to do, what there is to fix; all he can do is take care of those around him.

Between the thicket of his thoughts, he hears footsteps, quiet, muffled by the soil but still there. Approaching him. He sits back on his heels with a sight, his eyes fluttering shut for one last brief moment of peace, before he turns to greet the footsteps in kind.

    “Morning. It’s early, is everything alright?”

[abvddcn]

 Come find Jesus and you will be saved, too!

Just hearing those words made Abaddon want to vomit herself out of the vessel, possess that person and jump right into traffic before making a sweet exist out of that stupid person. “Salvation is overrated.” Were her only words, spoken loudly enough so she could be heard by any passersby, as she crumbled up the flyer that was handed to her and then threw it at the other person’s chest; then, she walked away with a venomous smile on her lips --- talk about an exit. 

Feeling eyes glued to her back as she walked away, the Knight of Hell let out an annoyed sigh and rolled her eyes before she turned around to meet the person she believed was starring her down like she was a freak show on the loose. “What is it people say...” Abaddon spoke, feigning thought. “Oh, right --- Do you want a picture? It will last longer.”

[dolmamuller-blog]

     ––– footsteps clattering around her, the pitter patter of life. dolma watches as a group of young teens rush down the street, whipping by her side like a sudden uptake of wind. young. full of life. full of terror. her heart a c h e s. she wants to find them and bring them home with her, to the relative safety of providence park. but she knows she can’t. 

she wants to find lucifer and pull his heart out. see if he even has one. maybe he doesn’t. a cold blooded creature, poison in the well of the world. poison in the hearts of all men –– even hers, she must remind herself. she has been sullied by sin too. no longer pure. no longer perfect. no longer chosen. just a weapon now. a sharp b l a d e, a killing thing. it sets something hard alight in her, something furious. 

she approaches an another figure on the street, another sign of life. she steels herself, armor slipping carefully into place. she is not a helpless thing. she still holds a glorious purpose. a blade in easy reach and a confidence that you can’t fake. 

     “ don’t look so scared, sweetie. i hear demons can smell fear.” 

[festerandfeed]

     location: Saints & Sinners      time: dusk           ( open )

A demon walks into a bar.

Okay, they don’t so much walk as they saunter-- okay, okay. They don’t so much saunter as stumble, a flurry of movement that stops half a second from hitting the floor with an eerie and unnatural sharpness, a shuddering animation stopped short. 

The new host, they’re beginning to realize -- distantly, somewhere in the back of there where a human brain still exists -- was a junkie, and it’s going through withdrawal now, or something like it. Ah well. This too shall pass and all that shite. 

They readjust. Shove red-tinted lenses up a surprisingly thin ski slope of a nose. Glance around for a familiar face, or an unfamiliar one, each face just an opportunity for something to go wrong, each thing that goes wrong another tick in a never-ending list of abstract conquests with little impetus or motivation. 

[baalx]

Location: Saint & Swords  For: @abvddcn

The table at the back of the room is quiet, Baal comfortable in his chair. This is where he likes to be, watching. He can see everyone in the room from here. Petty humans who think they’re subtle when they gaze at him out of the corner of their eyes. 

They can tell he’s so much more than them. He radiates power. Drips with it. His sleeve is flecked with blood. He didn’t spill it, he hardly ever does. But he’d stayed standing close after compelling a lower ranked demon to do the deed for him. A new favourite pass-time. 

All said and done, he’s growing impatient. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting, even by Abaddon. They may have much in common, and much to do together, but the demon was still lower than he and should show the appropriate respect. He’ll let it pass, this time, provided they make their appearance soon. Knowing Abaddon, they’ll come armed with a fantastic story. Whatever manipulative ploys they’re carrying out for fun are sure to be entertaining. 

[prophetsimonf-blog]

Location: New Zion  Time: around nine pm. Status: Open.

So. Welcome to the end of the world. It feels cataclysmic, but New Zion doesn’t look much different. It’d always been a shining wreck, now its just a shining wreck full to the brim with demons. Horrifying creatures that could be lurking around any corner. It sets him on edge –– It’d set any sane person on edge. The people around him, those either brave enough or stupid enough to venture out this late, are skittering towards their various locations. 

He can see a few people ducking into what looks like a bar. That makes him want to laugh. Maybe they’ll drink until they die. 

That’s what he would have done a handful of years ago. A faltering step in their direction, and then he stops. Lord, lead me not into temptation. He isn’t here to drink himself into oblivion, he come here to grab whatever supplies he can and get safely back home again. That’s what he told Eli he would do, and he doesn’t intend to make himself a liar. 

Successful so far, at least. Messenger bag packed to the brim with items liberated from a pharmacy down the street. He feels guilty about the stealing, but it seemed like five other people had been in before him, and they’ll need medicine if they’re going to survive for long. 

A thousand things cross his mind when he turns a corner and sees another person. Is this a human? Is this a demon? Are they sick? Will they attack? Friend or foe? He considers taking a step back, hiding where he’d come from, but he knows he’s been noticed already. Boxes and pill bottles clattering in his bag, the only thing he can think to do is continue forward and act confident about it.