ARRIVAL(cw: mention of fake drug and swallowing pills, maaaybe doing a little violence, blanket warning for lotsa cussing)
[ Where is your grandfather?!
The words distort and blur, fading further, and then-- ]
The fuck...?
[ Angela stares and blinks as reality moves forward in flashes. She's eased through the line, her feet stuttering her along. Talked to by someone. Handed things. Told things. Then suddenly, she finds herself in what looks like a lobby. Her mind is gradually getting clearer, and there's a constant noise becoming more apparent. A steady clink clank, clink clank. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock...
She looks down at her hands. Some papers. A questionable phone. The glass bottle of pills she knows she had just swallowed the entire contents of, each pill still in it.
The Nostalgia--bottled memories. Her eyes go wide.
She stumbles backwards in shock, crashing into another person. Agent Blake's words echo through her head one last time before she fumbles through moving her leaden limbs to prepare for a fight. ]
Who the fuck are you?
[ In her confusion, the words come out in Vietnamese, but that's probably of least concern. More concerning is the fact that she looks ready to use that very long rosary on her waist to choke a fucker out. Might want to talk her down. ]
REACH UP HIGH(cw: all mentioned above)
"Guests," huh?
[ She snorts, crossing her legs as she settles in. This is weak. But whatever, she'll play along. Not the worst shit she's dealt with. When you're coming from a world where people are praying to a man that's supposedly living on Mars, what's a little horror movie bullshit?
But really. She's not exactly thrilled with this situation. Having to confront your mortality in a very shiny metal way is enough to put fear in any cop. Any cop worth their salt, however, won't cave. Not when they see the worst of society every day. Not when they've survived the perpetual end of the world. Not when some racist fucks nearly shot them dead.
She breathes in. Out. Cool as a cucumber. ]
Just another fuckin' day in Hell...
FOLLOW ME DOWN(cw: alcohol, violence, potential for way more violence, aphro influence if you want it lol)
Why the hell not?
[ What started as gathering intel on the so-called locals has turned into something else. If she's going to accept she's now in some goddamn hell, may as well make the best of it. Or worst. She downs the sour apple shot in one quick gulp. Normally, she wasn't one to be down for lowering inhibitions, not when she lived in a world where anyone could be an enemy, but if the world's turned upside-down--again--why the hell not?
Her coat flares behind her as she turns away from the bar, eyes roving over the patrons. Nothing off so far. That is, until one demon looks at her in just the perfectly wrong way. One minute she's glaring at them. The next, she's getting yanked off of them, knuckles bloodied and aching.
After fighting her way free, she leaves the club, shaking off the weird feelings that more than the drink left behind as best she can, stalking elsewhere. No matter where she ends up? She's ready to let some people feel her righteous anger, especially if she gets to use some of the guns she pilfered from the crates she'd come across. ]
WILDCARD
[ If you'd like to throw something else at me, feel free! You can PM this journal or hit me up on plurk at venicebeach! ]
Angela Abar / Sister Night | Watchmen (TV)
[ Where is your grandfather?!
The words distort and blur, fading further, and then-- ]
The fuck...?
[ Angela stares and blinks as reality moves forward in flashes. She's eased through the line, her feet stuttering her along. Talked to by someone. Handed things. Told things. Then suddenly, she finds herself in what looks like a lobby. Her mind is gradually getting clearer, and there's a constant noise becoming more apparent. A steady clink clank, clink clank. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock...
She looks down at her hands. Some papers. A questionable phone. The glass bottle of pills she knows she had just swallowed the entire contents of, each pill still in it.
The Nostalgia--bottled memories. Her eyes go wide.
She stumbles backwards in shock, crashing into another person. Agent Blake's words echo through her head one last time before she fumbles through moving her leaden limbs to prepare for a fight. ]
Who the fuck are you?
[ In her confusion, the words come out in Vietnamese, but that's probably of least concern. More concerning is the fact that she looks ready to use that very long rosary on her waist to choke a fucker out. Might want to talk her down. ]
REACH UP HIGH (cw: all mentioned above)
"Guests," huh?
[ She snorts, crossing her legs as she settles in. This is weak. But whatever, she'll play along. Not the worst shit she's dealt with. When you're coming from a world where people are praying to a man that's supposedly living on Mars, what's a little horror movie bullshit?
But really. She's not exactly thrilled with this situation. Having to confront your mortality in a very shiny metal way is enough to put fear in any cop. Any cop worth their salt, however, won't cave. Not when they see the worst of society every day. Not when they've survived the perpetual end of the world. Not when some racist fucks nearly shot them dead.
She breathes in. Out. Cool as a cucumber. ]
Just another fuckin' day in Hell...
FOLLOW ME DOWN (cw: alcohol, violence, potential for way more violence, aphro influence if you want it lol)
Why the hell not?
[ What started as gathering intel on the so-called locals has turned into something else. If she's going to accept she's now in some goddamn hell, may as well make the best of it. Or worst. She downs the sour apple shot in one quick gulp. Normally, she wasn't one to be down for lowering inhibitions, not when she lived in a world where anyone could be an enemy, but if the world's turned upside-down--again--why the hell not?
Her coat flares behind her as she turns away from the bar, eyes roving over the patrons. Nothing off so far. That is, until one demon looks at her in just the perfectly wrong way. One minute she's glaring at them. The next, she's getting yanked off of them, knuckles bloodied and aching.
After fighting her way free, she leaves the club, shaking off the weird feelings that more than the drink left behind as best she can, stalking elsewhere. No matter where she ends up? She's ready to let some people feel her righteous anger, especially if she gets to use some of the guns she pilfered from the crates she'd come across. ]
WILDCARD
[ If you'd like to throw something else at me, feel free! You can PM this journal or hit me up on plurk at