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

[thefreak]

[ listen, he could argue until he's blue in the face, but he recognizes that they are low on time. and that eddie doesn't actually have much in the way of first aid skills, so apart from putting pressure on the wound there's not much he can do for clarke.

still, he feels kind of fucking useless. can't run, can't fight, can't heal, what good is he?

a mage. he laughs derisively at the concept. since when did his life become the d&d campaigns he ran? ] A weapon? Unless my lighter counts, I'm afraid not. [ he could probably hurl drinkware or other random objects at the possessed, but he isn't a jock, doesn't have the arm for distance.

which just makes him think of steve harrington, and he can't believe he's fucking missing him now, of all the times. ] You'd think playing Dungeons & Dragons most of my life would have prepared me for this, but I guess it's different when you're just rolling dice.

[skaikru]

( yeah, she doesn't know what dungeons & dragons is, thinks the title should make him more qualified for chaos than it sounds like he is but takes the denial at face value as complete and total honesty. which sucks.

clarke has a knife in her boot laces, and a gun strapped to her thigh. but, even dying, she's not willing to part with those just yet. it's a slow bleed, maybe she can still kill one of their attackers; maybe after this brief under-table meeting, she can still help someone else. but you know what else she has that she can't foresee needing?

about three feet of a kumihimo-style braided friendship bracelet that she'd made at camp. it's thick and bulky and can easily hold over 100 pounds. and it'd already been a little blood stained in places, now freshly painted by her black coated fingertips when she hastily unties and bundles the makeshift weapon into eddie's hands. )

Garrote, ( clarke explains in clipped urgency. ) Last measure, try not to need it, close quarters is a quick death. I'll want it back, okay? So don't die.

[thefreak]

[ eddie can't really say that he'd blame clarke for not wanting to part with those weapons. while he could probably do some damage with a knife, having defended himself from attempted robbery while trying to do a drug deal, that's a little different than going up against these people. and the gun? forget about it, he's never fired one and wouldn't want his life to depend upon it.

but this, it's not much, but in a pinch it just might save his life. he takes the garrote and clasps his hand around it with a curt nod. ] I'll do my best. [ He wishes he could promise that he won't die, but, well. apparently he's pretty shit at not dying.

still, she did patch him up when he first arrived. it would be a shame to undo all that hard work. ]

[skaikru]

( in the end, his best is all she can ask for, and clarke gives one solid nod of acknowledgement to his resolve.

something is falling with a huge, discordant and faintly melodic crash (a piano, it's a piano) beyond them, and that serves as an effective means to distract her. right, temporarily isolated and undiscovered as this spot under the table is, they're still not safe. there's others out there, they — well, at least she — can't stay here. she can still feel blood gushing out through her fingers with every heartbeat, and pain is starting to get its hooks into the adrenaline haze but clarke just grits her jaw. )

Holding you to that, Eddie, ( she hisses between teeth, then reaches her less bloody hand towards the tablecloth and makes to blunder her way back into the fray. )

[thefreak]

[ there's something absolutely comical about the piano crashing. like this is one big looney tunes adventure, only this was definitely not sanctioned by warner brothers. if eddie weren't fearing for his life still, he probably would have broken down into a fit of hysterical laughter.

instead, he watches as clarke stumbles back into the fight, leaving eddie with the garrote and an uncertainty of what he should be doing. the longer he stays put, the more likely someone is going to find him and then he won't be able to keep that promise. ]

Shit, fuck, shit, shit.

[ he wishes steve were here. the real steve, though eddie still doesn't know what's become of him all this time. if he were back in hawkins, or the upside down, he would have looked to steve or nancy for guidance, but this?

ultimately, all he can do is search for another hiding spot, retreating further into a dark corner, and hope that those with better fighting prowess can end this bloodbath before the ghosts reign triumphant. ]