[The whole situation is less than ideal. There's disorientation and panic as Sally transitions out of the frying pan and directly into the fire. Fires of Hell, that is. Someone tells her to stop holding up the line and in a state of shock she forces herself all the way through to the lobby, clutching the things she's been given. Continuing on as if in a trance, it isn't until she finds herself standing outside of the hotel and taking in the state of things that reality catches up to her. And all at once, her knees give out.
Shaking, Sally crashes down in a straight line, feeling very much like a stone dropped down into a well. Her vision pinpricks, panic swelling in her throat until she can't breathe, and she lets her contract and her phone and the fox-headed hairpin she'd been clutching when she arrived clatter to the pavement in favor of ripping her nails into her hair.]
Fuck! Fuck!
[This is just great.]
Stand Your Ground
1.
[When Sally gets roped into spring cleaning by one of the demons, she sucks in a breath and tries not to freak out (again). Anyone and anything looking at her or indicating she should be doing anything sets her whole body on edge, but there are certainly worse things she could be asked to do. Worse people, or things, who could be doing the asking.]
All right, Oink. It's just a bit of tidying up. Don't get yourself in a...
[Something tickles at the back of her neck, and when she reaches absently to brush at her skin, is met by a thick, hairy spider leg. Turning, she's face-to-face with a large set of eyes and the end of her sentence trails off in a startled shriek.
If you're particularly unlucky, she might be stumbling backwards right into you, regardless of what sort of domino effect of chaos it may cause.]
2.
[Eventually, she does find a sense of calm, settling down between a few boxes to organize the dusty contents. When she pulls out a worn box of what appears to be a Hellish version of Monopoly, she can't help but let out a snort.]
Right. At least this one makes sense--a real work of the devil.
Follow Me Down II
[So where does one go when all hope is lost? The bar, naturally. It helps that there doesn't seem to be any charge for the refreshments. Sally finds a corner seat at the counter and orders whatever sort of ale is on tap, not caring at the quality as she nurses it. And another. And at some point decides that it couldn't hurt to have one of the laid out pastries to console herself.
Except it very quickly doesn't just stay at one. A second follows, and then a third...and at some point she's just started grabbing them and bringing them up to her a mouth with absolute single-mindedness, eating them forcefully and without joy.
Sally Timms | Slade House
[The whole situation is less than ideal. There's disorientation and panic as Sally transitions out of the frying pan and directly into the fire. Fires of Hell, that is. Someone tells her to stop holding up the line and in a state of shock she forces herself all the way through to the lobby, clutching the things she's been given. Continuing on as if in a trance, it isn't until she finds herself standing outside of the hotel and taking in the state of things that reality catches up to her. And all at once, her knees give out.
Shaking, Sally crashes down in a straight line, feeling very much like a stone dropped down into a well. Her vision pinpricks, panic swelling in her throat until she can't breathe, and she lets her contract and her phone and the fox-headed hairpin she'd been clutching when she arrived clatter to the pavement in favor of ripping her nails into her hair.]
Fuck! Fuck!
[This is just great.]
Stand Your Ground
1.
[When Sally gets roped into spring cleaning by one of the demons, she sucks in a breath and tries not to freak out (again). Anyone and anything looking at her or indicating she should be doing anything sets her whole body on edge, but there are certainly worse things she could be asked to do. Worse people, or things, who could be doing the asking.]
All right, Oink. It's just a bit of tidying up. Don't get yourself in a...
[Something tickles at the back of her neck, and when she reaches absently to brush at her skin, is met by a thick, hairy spider leg. Turning, she's face-to-face with a large set of eyes and the end of her sentence trails off in a startled shriek.
If you're particularly unlucky, she might be stumbling backwards right into you, regardless of what sort of domino effect of chaos it may cause.]
2.
[Eventually, she does find a sense of calm, settling down between a few boxes to organize the dusty contents. When she pulls out a worn box of what appears to be a Hellish version of Monopoly, she can't help but let out a snort.]
Right. At least this one makes sense--a real work of the devil.
Follow Me Down II
[So where does one go when all hope is lost? The bar, naturally. It helps that there doesn't seem to be any charge for the refreshments. Sally finds a corner seat at the counter and orders whatever sort of ale is on tap, not caring at the quality as she nurses it. And another. And at some point decides that it couldn't hurt to have one of the laid out pastries to console herself.
Except it very quickly doesn't just stay at one. A second follows, and then a third...and at some point she's just started grabbing them and bringing them up to her a mouth with absolute single-mindedness, eating them forcefully and without joy.
Hope you didn't want any.]