monday's child is fair of face (2/2)

[palfriday]

CW: death, probably gore, possibly more TBA

[and that’s what you missed on glee.

and so, there “Friday” is, standing on the roof of the bar. the attention of the party has surely turned to her by this point, but she doesn’t care about that. she just needs one person to still be a little too distracted to stop what was coming next.

Monday snaps her fingers, and Jenny disappears from wherever she was standing before, reappearing directly in front of Monday, who embraces her from behind, an arm wrapped firmly around her middle. those with enhanced senses might catch what she whispers, seconds before she snaps Jenny’s neck so hard it hangs at a 90 degree angle as Monday kicks her, her corpse toppling forward onto the deck below.]

Surprise, bitch.

[well, there. unfinished business settled. onto more pertinent matters.]

Let’s get a little more comfortable first, hm? Can’t waste too much of her magic, but audiences love a quick change.

[she snaps her fingers, and Monday finds herself in an outfit that is far more to her taste. now. time for her grand performance.]

Greetings, foolish mortals! You may or may not have noticed that things have been a little bit different this month. While the Captain is off having a good old bitch cry about whatever it is he’s so upset about, poor little Friday was running herself ragged keeping this shitheap floating! She was so distracted, in fact, that she happened to have a little accident, while fixing something in the elevator shaft! [a laugh] I guess even clay bitches can break their necks! And there I was, sitting in Fucking Nowhere, doing Fucking Nothing, feeling Fucking. Nothing! And I saw her empty shell. And I was, like, hey, free real estate!

Whatever tear in the veil that your whiny little Captain just didn’t feel like fixing? I ripped that fucker right open. And you’ve all met a few of the sorry little fuckers that fell out already, hm? [another snap] Not all of them, but, hey, that’s what now is for, right? Because, see, we all kinda got together a little bit, and we were like… You know, just borrowing some shitty bodies to have some fun for a few weeks? What a waste! And we still have a lot of bitches we need to spring from jail!

And that! Is where you assholes come in! And, trust me, you are all assholes. Have you even seen some of the psychotic shit you people have said and done to us? Like, yeah, Mary is legitimately insane, but she’s still a kid! Even I’m not gonna call a fucking nine year old a bitch!

You can try to run, but I fucking hate running in heels, so I made that a little bit… difficult. So. Why don’t you nice people just lay down and let us kill you. I’ll be gentle. Promise.

[perhaps people have tried to flee already. they likely have. and they’ve found that the entire party area has been blocked off by the same sort of barrier that surrounds the realm, an invisible orb holding them captive.]

Now. Let’s get the actual party started!

Comments

[skaikru]

( distantly, all the way down in cabin 108, a series of small spiritual explosions are taking place. like, eight, rapid fire. her room's gonna be fucked after this.

but more immediately pressing, on the tail end of monday's speech and just over to the side of the snack table, another flash of light erupts from a bust of clarke griffin's stupid little nurse dress and sends her to hands and knees like a dropped sack of potatoes. she doesn't even get a chance to scream before it feels like all the air in her lungs has been punched out, flesh and fabric shredded — only saving grace that the slip of paper had been slipped into the bra strap on the right side of her chest.

..."saving grace", maybe a little optimistic. a horrific burning pain clouds her vision, but even through that she can feel the sudden and intense heat and wet of blood bubbling up and soaking through her clothes. dripping onto the floor beneath her, painting her right hand pitch black when she presses palm to wound then peels it away to inspect. still, able to breathe enough to scream, so that's a good sign right?

going into shock feels tempting. but every nerve ending in her body absolutely dumps adrenaline, and clarke reaches out to brace on the table and haul herself up. it takes two tries, the first time she just gets tablecloth and drags half the treats onto the floor with a clatter. but second attempt gets her on her feet, fear flirting with crossing the line into fury, and catching sight of shi qingxuan amidst the immediate aftermath, she's scowling a look that promises death. oh, i'm going to kill you.

...i would kill you, but self preservation comes first. she can't directly engage like this, running seems the best option for as long as her legs hold out. blood loss is... a familiar enemy, it feels like the clock is ticking against her favor. and thus clarke stumble-stagger-bolts in the opposite direction. )

[winepouring]

[ It would be a lie to say the ghost - that Genis - feels nothing when he sees Clarke go down.

Watching her scramble at the table and fail to stand before finally hoisting herself up—it does make him tense and bite the inside of his lip. Even from where he is, he can see she's in pain. He doesn't even need to imagine what it feels like; it isn't like he's never had fire erupt against his skin or felt the raw impact when a bomb's gone off. It hurts.

Part of him wants to go over. Maybe now that she's turned tail on him, he can transform and go after her; it's not like she's aware this body can transform yet.

...But he doesn't chase after her and instead just watches her sad retreat. Prolonging the inevitable now would be even worse than when he tricked and betrayed her the first time. One way or another, Clarke will eventually succumb to either blood loss or shock, and when that happens...

Someone else will take over and have a chance at life again, and Clarke won't be in pain anymore.

It's better that way. ]