Meg (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
foundacause) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kore_logs2014-01-19 12:51 am
foundacause) wrote in kore_logs2014-01-19 12:51 am
Entry tags:
You can't carry it with you if you want to survive
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.
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.
no subject
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?"
no subject
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."
no subject
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 subject
She reached for her angel blade, and let out a resigned sigh. "How fast can you run?"
no subject
There was room for an argument. In his life there was always room to find some quibbling dissent of opinion, in this case, Bones was casting worried glances back at this stranger. A woman who seemed ready for anything.
"What did you have in mind?"
Unlike what some annoying Vulcans might think, Leonard was perfectly capable of tracing the logic of a situation. They were stuck.
Unless they opened the door and got themselves unstuck.
He only wondered how they'd both manage to make it out of the room.
no subject
She tried to judge how many there were. Three? More? It was hard to tell. It wasn't going to be a picnic, that was for sure.
"You break the salt line. We let the dogs in. I keep them busy while you run."
no subject
As strong as his instinct for self preservation was. There were some things you just didn't do.
This woman had guts though, McCoy would give her that. He was no stranger to strong and capable sorts. No matter who it had been though, Uhura or Chekov or even that bastard Vulcan himself, Bones would have pitched a fit at that plan.
He might have agreed to leave Spock behind though. Maybe.
no subject
Her own sense of self preservation was pretty high as a general rule, but apparently sacrificing yourself was the in thing these days.
"So, ready to run?"
no subject
No actually either. The former Mrs McCoy had been a wonderful woman, but one was allow certain liberties of painting the past.
"I don't like it."
Bones doesn't see a way around it, unfortunately. He hopes that Meg is being more literal than he was when she described herself. Not that he's willing to believe her on the basis of two minutes and a mind for salt. But he's seen tougher things than Klingon's and there are more unknowns in the great big universe than anyone in the Federation is willing to admit.
"Come with me."
no subject
She spun her blade in her hand, slinking to a fighting stance.
"I've no plans on dying today. Break the line and run."
no subject
Jim would have stayed. Spock would have stayed.
Bones nodded and swiped the line of salt. Ducking out into the hallway and making a break for it.
Of course.
He was also a goddamn Starfleet Officer. Which was more paramilitary than military so the ideal of never leaving a man behind, or a woman in this case, wasn't always feasible. But it was an ideal none the less.
Leonard grabbed the first loose object he could find. Pieces of broken chair in this case, someone else must have tangled with this pooches prior to this. He ran back too. Maybe it was stupid.
"I sure as hell hope someone taught you bastards how to fetch!" Not that he could see them when he started throwing chair at the snarling whirl of air. He was going to run again, and this time hopefully one or more of them would follow. Killer dogs, or sacrificial demons, McCoy wasn't getting particular.
no subject
She rolled her eyes before lunging at one of the hellhounds, slicing it's throat. Of course, to someone who couldn't see the hounds it looked as though she was merely waving her blade in thin air - except for the pained howl and the gush of black blood.
"When I said 'run', I meant in the opposite direction."