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Post by Arrow↠Deirdre on Jun 2, 2019 18:18:53 GMT -5
azureeyes Sorry it took a hot moment, had to step in as an emergency babysitter xD Plot #132 - Angel of Mine (with bits of #4 - Last Chance Liquor) for reference Person A is working the overnight shift at a 24-hour gas station. The most they are expecting to see is a few long-haul truckers and teenage delinquints rolling in to stock up on cheap snacks and soda. Then Person B appears, dishevled and confused. They don’t say word to Person A as they slowly make their way to the back of the store, despite Person A calling out to them. Person A is unnerved, but continues to work.
An hour passes and Person B still has not come out, so Person A reluctantly decides to check on them. On the way there, they notice specks of red on the floor, which become larger and larger the closer they get to the bathroom. Everything inside Person A screams at them to leave, especially when the speckles turn into a puddle just outside the bathroom door. They door is unlocked and Person A pushes it open.
Person B is lying face-first on the floor. Their shirt is gone, and on their back are two bleeding stumps that look a hell of a lot like wings.
Person B is an angel who has had their wings clipped before being cast out of heaven. They are unfamiliar with the customs of humans. Person A is suddenly shoved into the role of caretaker for this bumbling creature.
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Post by Arrow↠Deirdre on Jun 2, 2019 18:19:22 GMT -5
⌟ Ammon Delvin ⌞ Male || Heterosexual || ENTJ They always say that it's not the fall that kills you, it's the landing. Ammon couldn't disagree more. The fall hurt twice as much as it did to wake up in the mortal world, lost and without a home, standing in the middle of a quite road.
Home. It never really was that, was it? But it was familiar. When he was there, he knew where he could go. What exactly to do. Now with mortal blood dripping down his throbbing back, what could be done?
Throbbing. A sensation he'd never experienced before. He could see why humans would dread existence if this is what they must bear throughout their short lifespans. He trudged along the painted markings lining the warm asphalt, arms wrapped around himself. Every road goes somewhere, even if it wasn't back. There was a tall sign up ahead, casting a cold light across the treetops and outshining the wavering moonlight above. Surely there would be someplace there to rest for a short while so he could regain his energy.
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Bisexual
azureeyes
reset myself and get back on track
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Post by azureeyes on Jun 4, 2019 22:17:07 GMT -5
(Sorry for the weird delay! My initial response waa bugging me, so I ended up rewriting it)
Charley Baker // Bisexual // INTP An awkward, introverted girl with vibrant red hair and steel-gray eyes. Always looks tired/annoyed, but is usually just off in her own world. Charley watches as the tiny hour hand on the clock approaches two am and thinks, two more hours.
Overnights at the old, twenty-four hour gas station were a mind-numbing affair. Business tended to slow once the sun slide beneath the horizion, and by midnight, she’d lucky to see one or two customers every hour. This meant that Charley was able to spend most of her shift in relative peace, reading magazines and counting the minutes until her replacement showed up at four o'clock.
She takes a sip of her coffee while glancing out the window beside the counter. The harsh fluorescent bulbs hanging over the gas pumps provided enough light for her to see the entire parking lot, which was empty except for her own car, a crumbling 1990 Nissan Altima parked a few steps from the front door. Past that, she can make out the long, dark strip of highway, and the tall, imposing trees of the nearby forest.
Two more hours, the girl reminds herself, stifling a yawn. Two more hours and she’d be heading back to her tiny flat for a well-deserved nap, the station a mere dot in her rearview mirror. She tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear and allows her eyes to drift back down to the tabloid on the counter, ready to enjoy another quiet evening.
After all, what all could happen in two hours?
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Post by Arrow↠Deirdre on Jun 6, 2019 22:26:23 GMT -5
(No worries!)
He approached the box of a building, eyes glancing around to make sure nothing would dart out of the darkened forest. The last thing he'd need is one of the bears to decide he was worth swiping at. Or any of the thousands of forest creatures that could break a mortal. A quick look inside the car as he passed revealed nobody was hiding inside. Good. Great. Something in his favor, perhaps.
Blinking against the bright store lights, he pulled the door open and stepped inside. The motion pulled at his back, sending more sparks of pain drifting down through his legs but all he could do was take a breath. Sweet gasoline air from outside faded into the smell of grease and salt, turning his stomach into a knotted mess of nausea. He'd have to eat eventually but food was the last thing he wanted.
Keeping his exhausted hazel eyes adverted from the building attendant, he wandered through the aisles and searched for somewhere more private. He needed the pain to end, the bleeding to stop. Then he could figure out what to do next.
Ammon slipped into the first room he could find and shut the door behind him with a quiet click. He took a stumbling step back and struggled frantically to get his shirt over his head. Taking the fabric off the wound would relieve some of the sensations, right?
Wrong. The burning ripped through his skin as he raised his arms, leaving him fighting for breath. He sunk to the floor, dropping his shirt beside him as he wrapped his arms around himself. Stop, the pain just needed to stop.
And it thankfully did the moment after his vision faded and he hit the tiles. Another thing in his favor.
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Bisexual
azureeyes
reset myself and get back on track
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Post by azureeyes on Jun 9, 2019 20:46:01 GMT -5
The clock on the wall reads 3:15 and the man has not left the bathroom.
Charley is might be freaking out.
Maybe he's a vagrant looking for a place to sleep, she thinks, but the thought provides little comfort. Her fingers drum a nervous tone on the counter-top. The man had been strange from the moment he'd entered the store. She had called out a polite greeting, but it was ignored. Instead, he had merely wandered around the store for a few minutes in what seemed like a daze, his heavy, uneven footsteps echoing off the tile, before slipping into the little hallway leading to the bathroom. She had not seen him since.
She glances out the window. Still empty. He apparently hadn't driven here.
She could call the police, but experience reminds her that it will take anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour for them to get there. She could wait for her replacement to arrive and enter the room with back up. She could just grab her car keys and slip out the building, leaving the shitty gas station with its strange occupant behind.
Charley drags a hand through her hair, growling in frustration. This was not what she had signed up for when she agreed to work overnights six months ago.
Finally, that anxious, jittery need to do something becomes too much to bare, and Charley makes the split second decision to check on him. She steps out from behind the counter, her shoes squeaking on the old tile floor as she slowly makes her way towards the back of the store. She walks this exact path every day, yet for reason her feet seem to drag this time. She looks down, knowing there was an uneven tile near the drink cases that could send a person sprawling across the floor, and that's when she spots it.
A little brown speckle that had not been there before.
She swallows, yet continues. More specks dot the floor leading to the empty hallway. There, the specks grow into larger drops that are only just beginning to dry, if the way they catch the light is anything to go by. Gray eyes follow the trail up the door to the men's room, and she suddenly feels her throat constrict painfully. There, around the base of the door, sits a puddle of dark, sticky liquid.
She covers her mouth, the sickly metallic smell turning her stomach. She does her best not to step in the blood as she approaches the door. Once there, she raises a shaking fist and raps her knuckles against it, calling out a weak, "Sir? Are you alright?" No response. Charley is seriously considers turning tail and running for her car. Instead, she tests the doorknob, jumping when she feels it turn beneath her fingers. Unlocked? She once more ignores the voice in her head screaming at her to get out of there, and pushes on the door. "Sir? Are you ok-holy shit!" Fear crashes over her like a wave. Charley tries to step back, to get away from the horrific scene, but her shoe slides in the puddle beside the door and she has to catch herself on the door frame.
Holy shit, she thinks, struggling to breath. He's dead.
The man is lying spread across the floor, shirtless. The source of all the blood appears to be two large wounds on his back. Charley swallows back bile, digging her nails in the loose, fraying wood for support. A million panicked thoughts run through her head: different combinations of curse words and an endless mantra of deadeadeadeadeadeadead.
Through the haze, however, a single rational thought seems to wriggle to the surface. Hey, are those wings?
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Post by Arrow↠Deirdre on Jun 11, 2019 17:39:44 GMT -5
(Let me know if I get carried away with the gore xD)
He was floating above a deep golden canyon, watching the river of his consciousness ebb and flow beneath him. It was peaceful there. Pain and human sensation were nonexistent, lost in the silent roar of the water. There was nothing but Ammon and the rocks stretching around him.
Slowly, gently, he started sinking below the edge of the jagged cliffs. It was impossible for him to tell how long the fall took. Perhaps it lasted seconds, or maybe it stretched into hours. This fall was much calmer than the last but soon the cool spray of the water kissed his cheeks as the river frothed with white foam and battered up the rock walls.
Ammon jerked awake.
His head rested on the cold store tiles, damp with the blood that had pooled beneath him. How long had he been resting for? Surely it was enough for him to get on his way again. There was no point in staying in place. They warned him against it, really. Humans were too curious, too nosy.
His back started throbbing again, ending his train of thought. With a quiet groan, he tucked his hands beneath him and tried to sit up. It took a second try before he could find a grip on the slippery floor and push himself onto his knees. Just that small motion left him huffing for a lungful of the stale air as the whatever blood left under his skin drained away from his face. With a shaking hand, he reached up to push aside a plastered strand of his dark hair from his forehead.
Yet his heart was still free of regret. He'd take the pain, the isolation. He could handle it. Well, maybe he could handle it after his back fully healed. If pain was something humans had to constantly bare, it's no wonder they are so short tempered.
Through his fingers, he noticed the human from the front gawking openly at him. So much for being discrete. He let his hands fall into his lap as he met the woman's gaze. "I suppose this looks bad, doesn't it?"
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