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

[foundacause]

Wow, talk about a game of twenty questions! Was while hiding from hellhounds really the best time to be having these conversations? Oh well. Meg could talk and listen at the same time. The hounds would likely find them whether they were talking or silent.

"Yes, I know Lucifer. He's my creator, my father and my God." Meg had served blindly under him for years. Until she went freelance after he took a vacation to the Pit.

"And this?" She motioned to all of her. "This isn't me. This is just a vessel. Some aspiring actress from Sheboygan. She makes a lovely fit though." She was rather fond of her current meatsuit.

"As for the angel? No. While I have killed other angels, I didn't actually kill that one."

[cinereoargenteus]

"Hmmm, Lucifer as a God. Interesting..." If ever he gets back home, he's looking up Father Wayne again for a theological discussion on how a fallen angel could possibly become as high as his creator.

The talk of vessels makes him lean in a little closer. He doesn't bother to hide the fact he's sniffing her. Hopefully she isn't stab-happy with that blade. He snorts at the sulfuric odor mixed in with the human scent. "Yes, I can smell it now. You gotta bit of a different scent than most folks here." In fact, she smells more than a little bit like the hounds.

[foundacause]

God created humans and angels. Lucifer created demons. It was natural for a demon to see him as a god, of sorts. Well, the the good old days, at least. Now he was rotting away in the Cage. Hardly Godly.

Meg arched an eyebrow. "Kid, let me give you some advice for when you grow up and start dating - women tend to prefer not being sniffed - unless they're showing off a new perfume. Mine's Eau de Sulphur - like it?"

[cinereoargenteus]

Garrett cocks his head. He considers the advice and then rejects it, softly shaking his head. His nose provides him with more information than any of his other senses. He matches a person's scent with their name even more than their face.

He snorts, driving the scent out of his nose, and then scrubs the end of his muzzle fiercely. "It burns my nose. 'N you also kinda smell like cheese."

[foundacause]

"Can't help that I'm afraid. Sulphur goes with the territory of being a demon. Something to do with being born of Hell, I'd imagine. Maybe you should quit sniffing me quite so closely if it bothers you."

Her brows furrowed. She definitely looked puzzled. "Cheese? Well that's a now one." Although Dean claimed her kisses taste like peanut butter. She's a walking sandwich cart apparently.