You can't carry it with you if you want to survive

[foundacause]

Who: Meg and OPEN
Where: All around the Science Centre
When: Day 154 - Day 158
What: Hellhounds are running amok and Meg is trying not to die – aka the catch-all Meg post
Warnings: Language, gore, violence and lots of it. Character death.

Meg doesn't need to sleep. Sometimes she sleeps for the joy of dreaming. Other times she doesn't bother. Same with food - she doesn't need to eat to sustain herself but sometimes she eats for the joy of it. This is one of those days where she is wide awake and looking for something to eat while the majority of the normal little squishy people at the Science Centre dream their little dreams of puppies and rainbows - or whatever the hell squishy human types dream of.

She's only about half way through her triple layer peanut butter, jelly and cheese sandwich when she hears the all too familiar and all too unwanted growling in the distance. At first she dismisses it; after all some of the foods in this place are said to do strange things and who's to say she didn't pick up weird alien lube instead of jelly? Hearing things could totally be the fault of the PB, J and cheese tower - right?

The snarls and the growls grow louder; and the closer and louder they get the more Meg begins to thing this is not the fault of the sandwich. Fuck. That can only mean one thing... Hellhounds.

Comments

[drunqualified]

Fields of sunshine and wild grass mostly. But that was just what this Human dreamed about. It was a sadly distant fantasy most of the time anyway.

What was really starting to bother Leonard McCoy about this place, it was just too damn big to be wandering around with. He'd taken a turn down one hall, not quite sure where his intention were going to lead him, but it was the sound of guttural mongrel growls that had him back peddling back faster than you could say, 'would you like some lemonade with that?'.

So, in the event that anyone should peek their head out curiously. There is a running, swearing, southern doctor taking up a full length of the hall.

[foundacause]

A curious demon appears.

Fabulous. Either mass hallucinations are the new in thing or the powers that be decided this place needs some killer demonic pitbulls to brighten the place up. Please, oh please be mass hallucinations. Those are always much more fun than being ripped to pieces.

"Let me guess... you're running from the demonic puppies? Otherwise you really need to work on a new fitness routine because running might keep you fit - but at what cost?"

[drunqualified]

Thus far, the good doctor has avoided getting ripped apart. That may be only a matter of time, and the odds never do seem to be in his favor.

"It's a brand new strategy I'm trying, scare the weight away!"

Bones took advantage of the open door and dashed in, finding himself in the kitchen of all places. It wasn't the first time he'd tripped down here, but on the whole, a kitchen that made him long for a replicator wasn't really high on his must be at list.

"Lost a whole pack of them. I think."

In spite of his joke, the running hadn't done him much harm. He caught his breath easily and then looked up.

[foundacause]

"How's that working out for you?" Meg eyes him up and down and is outwardly displaying her usual levels of sass and flippancy. Inside? Inside she's freaking out over the hellhounds. The memory of the pain of being torn apart by those things stays with you for a very long time.

Along with freaking out she's trying to think of logical ways of keeping the hellhounds out there and her nice and safe in here. They could salt the door; but will she only be creating a cage for herself by salting herself in? Oh well... Rather safe in the kitchen with the salt and the booze than out there.

"You might want to put a nice thick line of salt in front of the door right there. I would, but I just got my nails done."

[drunqualified]

"Not poorly." Which was true. Since joining Starfleet, McCoy had lost any of that hint of civilian weight that had only just started threatening his horizon. His family was blessed with a high metabolism anyway. How else could you explain vast quantities of sweet tea and not a care in the world.

The suggestion of salt was met with a dubious glance, but Bones had heard of his fair share of superstitions. He even carried a few for his own sake.

"You think that's going to stop whatever is out there?"

Salt however, seemed like a better option than waiting around, so Leonard rooted through cupboards until he found a bag of it. He dutifully lined the entrance of the door frame and hoped like hell no one but this woman actually saw him acting like a apprentice witch doctor gone rogue.

"That good?"

[foundacause]

"Stop them? No, of course not. You heard them. It will slow them down though."

Meg eyed the salt line. No, it wasn't good. She had just ordered a complete stranger to cut off her one exit from the room. "Yeah. That's a great job."

Wow, she never realised she was claustrophobic until she was locked in the kitchen with hellhounds on the other side of the door. Speaking of which... those hellhounds had moved closer; right outside. And really, they were big and strong enough to break the door down and yet they weren't even clawing at it.

"Just make sure that line doesn't break."

[drunqualified]

"I don't see how a handful of salt is going to.." But when the door rattled, Bones found his way out of the argument. Alright. Salt it was.

The good doctor kept an eye on the line of salt, all in all, it wasn't the worst sort of thing he'd ever had to do. Never mind that the sound of snarling, invisible death beasts was just about at his ear. Leonard McCoy had a pretty decent imagination too, he couldn't actually see the mongrels, but he pictured them well enough.

The hot dog breath of them would have been enough to send him running again, if he had anywhere else to go.

[no_eels]

New smells, new sounds, none of it readily visible. Toothless knows the sounds of canines. Vikings use them for various tasks, and for companionship. But this is different. He can hear warnings and challenges being issued, but without a source. The Night Fury moves like black lightning through the halls of the Center, trying to determine what's going on.

In fact, he almost runs right into Meg, in the canteen, and stops on a dime right in front of her with a confused rumble. What's going on?!

[foundacause]

Hey! Easy there, lizard. Fast moving black creatures are putting Meg on edge right now. He's lucky she didn't just stab him right there and then. She lowers her blade and lets out a low sigh.

"You've heard them too, huh? Don't suppose you have hellhounds where you come from, do you?"

[no_eels]

Toothless' big eyes blink at her. Hellhounds. There's a word he hasn't heard before. He shakes his head, glad that he hasn't run into these creatures before. But that doesn't exactly help him now. Still, he looks to her blade, suddenly noticing it, and takes a few wary steps back, eyes narrowing with a rumble.

Swords make him edgy.

[foundacause]

"Really? You're going to start freaking out on me now? If the blade was for you, you'd be dead already." Meg really needs to work on those social skills and at reassuring people... pets... whatever.

"Only thing I'm interested in killing right now is those damn dogs. So. How do we keep an oversized lizard like you safe?"

[no_eels]

For a moment, all Toothless does is give her an unimpressed look. It wasn't all that long ago that Vikings would have killed him and asked questions later. But then he relaxes, the unimpressed expression fading into indignance. Of course he can keep himself alive. He can at least smell the creatures. They reek of a very similar to scent to Meg, in fact...

[foundacause]

Hey now! Don't go judging her just because she smells like the dogs! No more pettings for Toothless if he's going to be a judgemental lizard jerk. Because really, she has enough of that crap without her pet judging her.

"You able to run fast in this place?"

[cinereoargenteus]

Garrett hadn't moved a muscle, not from the minute he'd heard the sounds. There was a new group of predators here in the halls and they didn't sound friendly. With the unending patience of an animal used to waiting for hours on end, he had taken up a vigil, waiting as sounds drew nearer.

When Meg draws near, his ears twitch once in her direction before he goes right back to watching the halls. The people wandering around here hold no concern for him.

[foundacause]

"Oh, are you doing an impression of prey? Fabulous impression. No, really. Stunning. The only thing that will make it more realistic is when those hellhounds charge and tear you limb from limb."

Why isn't everyone freaking out about the hellhounds as much as she is? Oh right. None of them have been mauled to near-death by one before.

[cinereoargenteus]

"Dogs do not scare me." Then again, he's never come across demonic, invisible hounds ready to rip apart anyone in their path. One ear flicks towards Meg, his head otherwise staying straight ahead. "Unless you know something I do not know."

[foundacause]

"They're not your regular puppies on parade. These are hellhounds. Demonic pitballs. Only thing they're good for is tearing your body apart and dragging out your soul."

She shrugs. "But hey. You wanna sit there and wait for them... don't let me stop you."

[cinereoargenteus]

"Sound like friendly beasts. Bet they love to play catch." Maybe she has a point. The woman obviously knows more about these creatures than he does. Ignoring people who know better has only ended him knee-deep in fertilizer before.

The grip he has on his staff shifts as he finally gazes at Meg. She doesn't look like much. Maybe he can just outrun her and let the chips fall where they would if it all turned bad. "Do not suppose you have a way to stop 'em along with all the rest of your gabbin'?"

[foundacause]

"Oh, they love catch! If the ball is made of live flesh." Right now Meg or one of the angels are probably the best friends anyone in this whole place have.

"It just so happens I do have a way to stop them." She pulls out her angel blade, twirling it in her fingers. "I came prepared."

Day 158. So late.

[whiskeyslinger]

Ellen's been reliving Hell for the last four days. Between trying to outrun and out smart the hellhounds she's lost Jo to them again along the way. This time she wasn't even there to hold her. Or tell her she loved her.

It's an open, gaping wound inside of her. A raw pain that resonates in everything she does but she's still fighting to survive. Still struggling because if she did just give in to the despair and grief, she knows Jo would never forgive her.

She's got salt stashed in her room, but her supplies haven't lasted her as long as they should've. She was forced to go to the kitchen, which was a bad idea on her own. Which is why she's holding her bleeding right arm as she runs down the corridor looking for somewhere safe to wait temporarily until she can return to her room. If she can find a tight enough space, she's got enough salt to cover her ass.

Never late <3

[foundacause]

Meg has been fighting the hellhounds morning, noon and night. They have her scent and they're not giving up. She's lost count of how many she's slain, and lost count of how many squishy innocents she's helped along the way - or she's blocking that part out because ew, when did she become such a hero?

Her thigh is badly torn, as is her arm. Her angel blade is dripping with black blood.

She presses herself against a wall to catch her breath - that's when she notices Ellen. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me..."

[whiskeyslinger]

Ellen notices Meg with just about as much enthusiasm, managing an impressive glare despite the pain she's in. She takes in the angel blade and the state of her thigh.

"Never thought I'd have a reason to like these bitches," she bites out. But the one that did that to Meg? She thinks she just might. She glances over her shoulder at the sound of an approaching growl. She looks back at Meg, her eyes narrowing. "That blade does the trick?"

[foundacause]

Would it be wrong to throw Ellen to the hounds and run? Yes. Yes it would. Very wrong. Normally Meg wouldn't care but since Ellen is one of the squishy meatsacks close to Dean and Meg had some disgusting feelings for Dean that she'd rather not think about, she has to play nice.

Sure is tempting though.

Meg rolls her eyes. "No, it's useless, I was using it to check my reflection." A beat. "Of course it does the trick."

Her eyes flicker black for a moment as the growling grows closer. "Run!"

[whiskeyslinger]

Ellen's eyes narrow at the flash of black, but also at the directive to run. She can't imagine why Meg would have her back, but it fully seems as if she's planning to hold back the hounds with her knife.

"No point," Ellen says, as she hears a growl coming in the only direction she's got to run. "Looks like we're surrounded."

She glances back at Meg, studying her expression. "Forget to feed your pets?"

[foundacause]

"Hate to break it to you Sugar, but these pups ain't mine. And hellhounds are one master kinda mutts." Unfortunately a sit, stay combo from Meg isn't going to cut it. She's as much a target as anyone. Especially now the dogs have her scent.

"I can't smoke out so I'm stuck fighting either way. So here's what we're gonna do... I'm going to draw their attention while you run. Got it?" Meg could already hear more approaching.