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 PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT, [OPEN]
LARK AUGUSTINE
Posted: Apr 28 2012, 09:47 PM


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Joined: 12-March 12



TOO HUMAN OR NOT HUMAN ENOUGH 

Lark knew, objectively speaking, that even though telekinesis was a known ability of the fallen and therefore one she should be able to master, that didn't mean necessarily that it would be very easy to do so. As an angel moving objects with her mind had taken little more than a thought -- it had been a trait she was created with, rather than a learned skill. But that easiness had a lot to do with being full of Grace, and Lark had none of that to make this re-learning process any simpler. Instead, she was stuck spending her days off having staring contests with her toothbrush or her sock, inwardly willing the thing to move while trying to figure out what she needed to do to tap in to the dormant ability. It hadn't been going well to say the least, but yesterday on her day off she had truly thought she'd made some progress -- she'd made her chair shakily slide out from its place at the table so she could sit down for dinner, and things had seemed to be improving from there. When she'd gone to sleep that night, Lark had been feeling pretty satisfied, maybe even optimistic about the whole thing. Then morning came.

Lark frowned at the pile of clean forks that had just started to tremble and clatter on the countertop, reaching out and clamping a hand down firmly on them, before wrapping her fingers around them and picking them up to set the appropriate tables. Apparently, now that she had started to get this whole telekinesis thing to work again, it would not shut off. This morning her hairbrush had flown into her bathroom mirror hard enough to crack it -- Lark should have known then to just call in sick to work and try to get a handle on things, but foolishly she'd figured the hairbrush incident was a one time thing, and on top of that, she was in charge of opening the diner on Wednesday mornings, meaning no one else besides Nathan, the breakfast cook, would be in until eleven. As they opened at six, some -- Lark checked the clock -- half hour ago, that meant she was stuck quietly closing the front door when it opened of its own accord and catching plates before they clattered to the ground seemingly by themselves for the next three and a half hours. It was just as well that Penny's Diner didn't receive much business before ten o'clock, anyways; just Jeffrey, a construction builder that always stopped by around seven for his morning coffee and toast with jam, and one other patron who had just sat down at one of the booths lining the front window of the restaurant. And in any case, it wasn't like objects were constantly moving around her; only once ever few minutes, something might shake for a brief second or slide a quarter of an inch generally speaking, thing that most people, especially at this time of day when the sun was barely up, would hardly take notice of. It was the bigger things she was a little concerned about, which admittedly happened with less frequency, like -- like the coffee cup sliding abruptly across the counter from where Lark had been about to pour into it, forcing the fallen to reach out and grab the thing before it could shoot right off the bar entirely, and sliding it firmly back infront of her to receive the decaf. "Stop," she directed under her breath, as if that would make any difference. She set the coffee aside -- it was for Nathan -- and absently straightened the skirt of her pale yellow diner uniform before she moved around from behind the bar and over to the table where the patron was settling in. Lark couldn't stop herself from glancing about, as if expecting the entire place to start shaking, as she neared the booth seat.

"What can I get you to drink?" she asked in her typical mild calm, studiously ignoring the can of Cola she could see rolling around the parking lot through the diner's wide window. That one she could almost claim was the wind. Aside from the fact that it made a little figure eight on the pavement before rolling to a stop. She dipped her head, naturally straight face giving away nothing as she laid a menu infront of the customer, finally moving her eyes to settle upon the person.


THIS IS AN OPEN THREAD! WHATCHA GONNA DO ABOUT IT?!



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Posted: Apr 29 2012, 04:18 PM


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If they say life's a dream call this insomnia
Cause this ain't Wonderland it damn sure ain't Narnia And once you cross the line you can't change your mind Yeah I'm a monster but I'm not Frankenstein
Meg wanted pancakes. Plain and simple nothing fancy about them, pancakes. What was the point in being topside if you couldn’t savor the cuisine. A lot of the demons she’d came across or ran with never seemed to have time for food. Meg pitied them really. Wasn’t gluttony a sin? She sighed as she pulled a dark shirt over her head and zipped up her boots before making her way out of the warehouse where she set up shop for the duration of her stay in the area. Meg was sort of a one trick pony when it came to places she liked to rest her head but there was always so much you could do with an abandoned warehouse plus the likelihood in being interrupted when you were in the middle of torturing someone was usually slim. Nine times out of ten your neighbors were shady enough to be demons themselves.

Heels clicked on the pavement as she pulled the leather jacket she wore over her bare arms. It wasn’t like she got hot or cold or anything. Meg could purely pick her clothing for style and style alone and she liked leather and high heels. It was early in the morning not that that really mattered considering she didn’t exactly need sleep but it did mean the streets were empty. Smirking she remembered the last truck stop she’d been at and a burly man telling her it wasn’t good for a woman to be hitchhiking alone. She showed him who the real danger was when she slit his throat. Yes, there was blood on Meg’s hands, so much that one could barely see the skin on it anymore. It had been a long time since Meg gave a damn though. Centuries in hell tended to remove one’s ability to give a fuck.

Although she should be grateful, had she not made the deal she would be properly dead by this point. Sure, she might be in heaven but that sounded incredibly dull to her. Maybe it wouldn’t have when she’d first been sentenced to eternity in the pit but now that she’d gone and came back (and gone back and came back and gone back again and came back, fucking Winchesters) she wasn’t sure heaven would quite do it for her. There were probably no screams in heaven and probably no blood either. She was much happier with being on Earth causing as much mischief and suffering as possible, hopefully to Hunters and their ilk.

Meg hooked her thumbs in the pocket of her jeans and continued walking down the sidewalk. It wasn’t often that she thought back to her time as a human. Young, fresh faced, and fiercely Catholic Catherine seemed like a different person entirely now. Sure she could remember things, the smell of freshly baked bread, the sound of her father’s laugh, even the taste of a communion wafer, but it was like swimming through a river of blood to get to them and it was more painful then Alistair’s razor. Catherine was a girl who would sacrifice everything for her family. Meg was the type of person who would sacrifice anyone else in the name of self preservation. No, Catherine died the moment she started cutting into her first victim.

The demon continued on her way to the diner she saw upon making her way into town. She hoped they would have pancakes. Oh, and coffee. Meg had developed an addiction to the way her vessel reacted to caffeine and enjoyed the warm liquid. Sure she smoked (menthol cigarettes) and drank (malt liquor) but her real addiction was coffee loaded down with sugar. It was the jittery reaction her body had that made her feel good. She pushed through the door and looked about the place. It was basically empty besides a young waitress, a cook, and another person obviously there for breakfast. She sat in the booth, eyes darting about a bit. Something seemed off about the place… almost as if there was some sort of current going through it. Meg could have sworn she saw a can outside do a near perfect figure eight as the waitress asked for her drink order, ’Coffee and leave plenty of room for sugar,’ she said, her voice that usual clipped tone.

Tags: Open   Outfit: Here   Words: 718   Notes: Don't worry Meg's not in the mood to do anything too awful.
credit to tom felton at caution


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LARK AUGUSTINE
Posted: May 2 2012, 09:25 PM


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TOO HUMAN, NOT HUMAN ENOUGH

Lark lifted her eyes and saw a demon. It was jarring, but no where near as terrifying as it had been that first time, before she'd known what she was, before her memories as a millenia-old wavelength of celestial intent had come back to her. As she stood now, looking at the hellish creature, it's gruesome face almost overwhelming entirely that of the brunette human woman it was possessing, Lark focused a lot less on questions of what the hell is that and a spent a lot more effort trying to keep any trace of recognition or surprise off her face. It wasn't that hard to begin with; no one would say Lark was the most expressive or exuberant of people. But the brunette waitress had to tamp almost instantly down on warring instincts; the deeply ingrained angelic reflex which told her to merely reach out and lay her hand on the brow of this vessel and expel its possessor, and the much more human response to flinch away. Her expression remained as placid as it ever got at work as the demon spoke. "Coffee and leave plenty of room for sugar," she ordered brusquely. Lark didn't bother pulling out a pad and pen; she hardly ever did, except when old James worked the night shift as cook. He never remembered the orders she called out.

Lark's mind raced as she considered her options; they were limited. Despite that initial angelic instinct, Lark hadn't the power to exorcise demons with a touch anymore, hadn't for a long time. There was salt, but it was in the kitchen, and it wasn't like she was in the privacy of her own home with this creature trying to invade -- they were in a public place. Lark couldn't stop more civilians from walking in that door any second, or from her regular at the counter and the cook i the back getting caught in the cross-fire should she try something. And what could she try? Lark was the one at the disadvantage here, should the demon make an attack. She had supernatural strength, but evinced by that morning, very little control of the only power that would be of particular use against the demon -- telekinesis. Verbal exorcisms took time, and she had no demon traps to otherwise get the demon to stay in place. No holy water. Nothing. Lark initial approach, then, had to be feigned ignorance.

"Sure," Lark responded in her usual mild tones, before heading back around the long bar and brewing a fresh pot of coffee. If she acted normal enough, maybe she would appear to be just another civilian to the demon, and if the thing was feeling particularly good, she may just leave without any casualties in her wake. It seemed simple enough; clearly the demon wasn't here for her specifically or else the demon would probably already have made her move. Such being the case, it was more to Lark's benefit to play ignorant until the demon either made a move or left. The only kink in this plan being -- Lark reached out hastily to shut off the sink faucet that had just turned on of its own volition, then grunted softly when one of the drawers under the counter shot open and caught her in the hip. Lark slowly shut that with a minimal sigh; at least that couldn't be seen except by those behind the counter, and there was just her for now. Lark kept trying to work at getting a grasp of the whole moving-stuff-with-her-mind thing, but it wasn't proving to be that successful so far. Lark glared down at the porcelain mug as she filled it three-quarters full with coffee, and picked up a small platter laden with milk, cream, and sugar before walking back over to the demon's table, and placing them down with practiced precision. "Anything to eat?" she asked as she straightened, giving the items on the table a hard look as if just daring one of them to start moving on her. What the hell would she say then?


DUN DUN DUUUUUN!



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Posted: May 5 2012, 03:28 PM


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If they say life's a dream call this insomnia
Cause this ain't Wonderland it damn sure ain't Narnia And once you cross the line you can't change your mind Yeah I'm a monster but I'm not Frankenstein
Meg noticed a something flash through the waitress’s eyes and she looked down at her clothes to make sure there wasn’t any visible blood on her. Seeing nothing she gave a light shrug of her shoulders and looked back at the waitress, eyebrows raised as if to say ‘get on with getting my coffee’, Meg purposely put off that vibe that screamed fuck with me at your own risk and hoped the little waitress would realize it was in her best interests to serve her and not be too chatty. Meg wasn’t planning on paying for her meal let alone tipping so the woman didn’t have anything to worry about unless Meg got bored. There were only three people in the diner. It wouldn’t take much for her just to incapacitate them, lock down the place and have a little fun.

After she got her breakfast of course, Meg liked to believe she had her priorities straight. Pancakes then possible torture seemed like a good plan to her. She looked out the window at the street. It was still early so there wasn’t much traffic. That was one thing that pissed Meg off. She was a demon she shouldn’t have to hitchhike or steal cars to get from point A to point B. Sure when she was smoke it was nothing but when she was stuck in a human vessel, well she was stuck with human ways to travel. Unlike angels she couldn’t just poof from one place to another while in a vessel. It sucked out the ass that the feathery self righteous bastards were able to pop from one place to another while most demons had to rely on human modes of transportation.

Meg. Hated. Angels. Well, most Angels. She definitely didn’t put her father in the same category as the rest of them. Sure they helped with breaking Lucifer out of the cage but since they’ve been nothing but a pain in the ass. And then there were the angels who weren’t on Team Apocalypse. They were even worse with their pathetic love for the human race. Meg sighed to keep a snarl off of her face at the thought. Her eyes instead watched the cute little waitress as she walked behind the counter. Meg wondered to herself what the young woman would sound like begging for her life under the blade of her knife. There seemed to be an air of nervousness around the girl and that made Meg curious. She watched the woman as she poured her coffee and made her way back over to her table.

”Anything to eat?” Meg watched as it seemed as though the woman was staring at the inanimate objects on the table. There was definitely something off about the girl and Meg looked at her name tag, ‘Lark is it? I would like pancakes. Like five of them… with powdered sugar and syrup. Do you think you can get that for me?’ she asked with a smirk on her face. She wouldn’t want to be in the girl’s shoes if she couldn’t do that for her and remembered fondly the last waiter that had messed up her order. He made a pretty good meal for her hell hounds.

Tags: Lark   Outfit: Here   Words: 540   Notes: Don't worry Meg's not in the mood to do anything too awful.
credit to tom felton at caution


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LARK AUGUSTINE
Posted: May 10 2012, 01:03 AM


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TOO HUMAN OR NOT HUMAN ENOUGH 

Lark dragged her eyes back to the demon patron as she placed her order. "Lark is it? I would like pancakes. Like five of them… with powdered sugar and syrup. Do you think you can get that for me?" Lark's brows raised minutely at the smirk that had crept across the woman's face, but really this was a demon that seemed to be in a relatively good mood, and that was more than Lark had expected once she'd recognized the creature for what it was. At the very least the demon seemed at the moment more interested in the actual menu then on the innocent civilians/sources of potential entertainment in the restaurant. "I think I'll manage," was Lark's mild response, before she walked away from the table in order to place the woman's order with the cook. As she passed the bar, the other customer's spoon jumped from where it sat on the coffee cup saucer and tumbled off the edge of the bar; the patron was too ensconced in his newspaper to take heed, but Lark, steadily growing more conscious of the feel of the telekinetic energy she was generating if still unable to control it reached out and caught the piece of silverware before it could clatter to the floor. Determinedly, Lark strove to behave as normally as usual, sticking the spoon in a pocket of her spoon and taking care not to glance over her shoulder to see if that little recovery had garnered an audience; if it had, Lark didn't want to encourage more speculation from the demon by appearing even more suspicious. She instead continued on her way to the kitchens, placed the demons' pancake order, then shuffled back towards the bar to refill that patron's coffee cup. Afterwards, Lark was able to leave the demon to her own devices for a short while at least while the pancakes were being cooked, but eventually she had to come around with the coffee pot again. The brunette could have easily not have come around with a fresh hot pot for refills, but that would be a bit like running away in these circumstances. Lark was going to do her best not to give the woman any reason to doubt her.

Lark made it back to the demons' table, coffee pot in hand. "A couple minutes for the pancakes," she said, easily and reflexively. The same words, or different variations of them, had left her mouth thousands of times before. The brunette lifted the coffee pot questioningly, feeling its steaming hot contents shift inside; one part of Lark briefly entertained the idea of pouring the whole thing over the demon, but that was irrational. It'd do nothing except piss it off. "More coffee?"


SORRY FOR SHORTNESS! I FELL ASLEEP AT MY COMP LOL



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Posted: May 12 2012, 03:19 AM


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Joined: 28-April 12



If they say life's a dream call this insomnia
Cause this ain't Wonderland it damn sure ain't Narnia And once you cross the line you can't change your mind Yeah I'm a monster but I'm not Frankenstein
Meg smirked as the waitress walked away. She was cute and Meg found herself wondering how pretty the little brunette could scream. There had been very little emotion coming from the girl since she had sat down and Meg was considering seeing if she could pull some emotion out of Lark, hopefully pain, fear, and desolation. There were only three people in the bar besides her. She could easily snap the customer and the cook’s necks and then pull the blinds, flip the sign and have her fun with the cute little waitress. Meg smirked to herself and twirled her spoon in her coffee before taking a long sip. She imagined tying the woman down on the bar and dripping boiling water on her stomach as the woman squirmed. She would definitely work off her pancakes that was for sure.

Meg’s eyes stayed on the waitress as she moved back to the bar and she blinked when the spoon flew from the patron’s spoon flew from the saucer and the young woman seemed to catch it. Now that was very interesting. The demon watched as the woman just slipped the spoon in her pocket and walked away. Had the spoon just clattered to the ground Meg would have just assumed there was a spirit or something but the way the woman had reacted she guessed she was the one causing it to go flying. So she was dealing with someone who had telekinetic powers and someone who couldn’t control them. The young woman was either a psychic or something else all together. If she hadn’t already had interest in the young woman she did now.

Meg wondered for just a moment if this young woman was one of her father’s kids… the psychic ones he created with his blood. There had been a lot of them and she looked to be around the age when the powers were supposed to start manifesting. There was the possibility that she was a fallen angel and that made things even more interesting. It would explain the look of shock on her face when she first looked at Meg. Fallen angels could see the true faces of demons and she had to admit, no one had an attractive true face. Either way she would be interesting for Lucifer and would not be leaving this diner of her own accord. She would be coming with Meg. But unfortunately that meant Meg couldn’t torture her and that was unfortunate. Of course it was possible Meg would be able to get a little bit of torture in as long as she brought the girl to Lucifer with her brain still intact and conscious. Meg was pretty sure she could hold back… and if she couldn’t Lucifer needn’t know. Meg leaned back in her booth. Besides she didn’t know anything yet. The spoon thing could have been nothing, she doubted it, but the possibility was there and besides if she knew she was a demon it would be fun to watch her squirm, ‘They’re pancakes…’ she said to her when she returned, ‘They honestly don’t take that long to make… so hurry it up before I get impatient.’

Tags: Lark   Outfit: Here   Words: 532   Notes: Don't worry Meg's not in the mood to do anything too awful.
credit to tom felton at caution


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LARK AUGUSTINE
Posted: May 16 2012, 09:47 PM


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TOO HUMAN OR NOT HUMAN ENOUGH 

Lark was beginning to notice a feeling, not a tingling, more like some kind of pressure flickering against the back of her head, separate from the voices, but with a similar feel to it. It was tiny, just barely noticeable, and only gave her a few milliseconds' warning before the 'Come in, We're Open' sign on the diner's door fluttered gently as disturbed by a breeze. Lark noticed it only out of the corner of her eye, feeling the sign move more than seeing it, really. Well, that was progress at least. If only she could get it to happen at her will instead of spontaneously. But the brunette didn't spend much more than a fraction of her concentration on this; instead, she assigned most of her focus to the coffee pot in her hand and the demon she was pouring it for. Her eyes flickered away from the coffee pot and sparingly across the demon's human visage, trying to get a read on her. Did she suspect anything? It would be too optimistic at this point to think the demon totally ignorant, and far too naive to believe that the demon was going to go on her way after she'd eaten her fill with no casualties to be had. But the fallen was extremely limited as to what she could do to drive the thing off. No devil's trap. No angelic powers. Her hand tightened a bit around the handle of the pot as she finish refilling the demon's mug. "They’re pancakes…" the demon drawled. "They honestly don’t take that long to make… so hurry it up before I get impatient." Lark's brow's ticked up by a millimetre, but otherwise her expression remained set in it's standard placid waitress-mode. Really, she hadn't been expecting polite from a demon anyways, and she heard worse things from the war vets that came around about seven every weeknight, already full with drink and especially loud and handsy. This was practically nice as far as demons went. So she responded with a bland "of course" that rolled automatically off her tongue like most of the other phrases Lark used while working. Not a lot of thought had to be put into the profession, after all. It wasn't rocket science.

Lark took her coffee pot and moved back behind the bar; movements deliberately unhurried but mind moving much more quickly. She couldn't expect the demon to sit there harmlessly forever; Lark couldn't tell really, but it was always good strategy to overestimate the enemy rather than underestimate him -- or her, in this instance -- and that meant assuming the demon was quick enough to pick up on the fact that things were randomly moving or shaking now and then of their own accord within the diner, or turning on and off -- like the sink faucet, which started streaming cold water again at that very moment. Lark gave it a mildly dirty look as she shut it off for the second time. Would the demon have made the connection that she was the one moving things about -- however unintentionally? Lark passed a glance to the only other patron, Jeffrey, reading his morning paper and nibbling at his toast. If she did, Jeffrey would be the initial target. Nathan out of sight back in the kitchen, which made it less likely that the demon would think of him, but not impossible. In some sense Lark had a bit of an upper hand in that she knew she was dealing with a demon, and the demon didn't know that she knew. But it was a pretty unhelpful upper hand considering she had very few tools at her disposal that would be any use warding off a demon. If I were still an angel, Lark thought somewhat, I'd just have to touch you, and you'd be gone. Not the time to focus on what she couldn't do, however. So her mind returned to the only really useful thing she'd come up with so far; salt.

Lark glanced between Jeffrey and the demon woman again, subtly, as she busied her hands with resetting the coffee maker. Each table had its own shake of it, of course, but that was hardly of much use. There was plenty of salt in the kitchen. Boxes of it. And if she went to the kitchen, she could probably stuff Nathan in a windowless room -- the bathroom, maybe -- line the doorway with salt and leave him in there. He'd probably be safe then. But all this would mean leaving Jeffrey alone for at least a minute or two in the storefront with only that demon for company. And Lark wasn't sure how to get Jeffrey out safely, not without tipping the demon off. She knew this man; he wasn't going to move until he'd had at least five refills of his coffee and read, carefully, through today's paper cover to cover. Lark's gaze flickered over the man again as he nibbled over his toast; he caught her looking and gave her a friendly smile, which she haltingly returned.

Her chances of keeping Nathan alive were highest; she would attend to him first. If she couldn't successfully see both of them live through the day, then she would have to go for the one most likely to live. Lark picked up a pike of clean plates and moved through the swinging door into the kitchen, promising herself that once Nathan was safe, she would try her best to keep Jeffrey alive too. Lark set the dishes on the countertop near where Nathan, a tall and skinny older man, was just flipping a stack of perfectly rounded pancakes into a neat stack. Just his last one missed the mark, and Lark knew by the twinge in her head that it was probably her fault in that respect. She took note of the boxes of salt -- three of them, on the shelf just above her, as Nathan greeted her with a light "Pancakes're ready." Lark didn't respond, rather, reached up and pulled down the boxes; she had to move quickly, couldn't be back here for too long, or else she might raise suspicion. Wordlessly, the brunette ripped off the top of one of the cardboard boxes; her eyes darted to the cramped little washroom in the corner. Nathan was talking again. "Lark? You in there? I was saying the pancakes -- Lark?!" Again, she didn't say anything, but with the salt held in one arm, Lark clamped a hand forcibly over Nathan's mouth, bracing both arms around his torso; he struggled, but it didn't even affect Lark's breathing to drag the fully grown man, taller than her, into the tiny bathroom. When she let go of him, she hastily stuffed a washcloth into his mouthand then pulled off her apron, using it was a makeshift gag. His voice was muffled even as he continued to yell and fight; Lark hoped it was enough that the demon wouldn't hear. Lark felt briefly bad about it, as she knocked his head against the wall, stunning him; he was an older guy after all. But between that or death, she wasn't going to fuss over it. Moving quickly, she dumped a thick line of salt across the threshold of the room, and then stepped over it carefully, shutting and locking the door behind her.

Lark went back over to the plate of freshly prepared pancakes, and picked it up. She carried the box of salt with her to the swinging door, then dropped it just next to the threshold; in case she could make use of it later. Would probably be a touch conspicuous to just carry it around with her. Picking up a canter of syrup, Lark pushed out the swinging door and back into the front of the restaurant, stating as she did, reflexively, "Pancake's up!" She looked up as she stepped back in, intending to make her way back to the demon's table, give her her damn pancakes, and go about hashing out a plan for Jeffrey's survival.


....IT GOT LONG. >.> IF MEG WANTS HER PANCAKEYS, JUST ASSUME LARK BRINGS 'EM ON OVER



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Posted: Jun 7 2012, 02:12 PM


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If they say life's a dream call this insomnia
Cause this ain't Wonderland it damn sure ain't Narnia And once you cross the line you can't change your mind Yeah I'm a monster but I'm not Frankenstein
Meg pushed herself back into the booth to lean against the window and propped her legs up on it, sipping her coffee with a small smirk. She looked over at the man at the counter and imagined all of the fun little things she could do to him. All the screams she could wrack from his body as she delicately ran her knife along his skin. The blood dripping from him onto the floor while the pretty little psychic waitress watched, oh, maybe she would put the young woman somewhere close so she could get soaked in the other man’s blood. That would be very, very interesting as far as she was concerned. She’d like to see if the woman would be able to keep her stoic face while the blood from one of her patrons fell onto her onto it.

She set her coffee down and added more sugar, impatiently watching the kitchen. The demon wanted to eat her pancakes and get started in on the torture and kidnapping portion. That way she could work off the calories from the pancakes. The thought made her chuckle and she sipped on her coffee. She wondered to herself if the diner was always that slow when it came to customers or if it was just the hour of the day. Her eyes looked over to the window where she could see the waitress talking to the cook. What was this about? Was there something wrong with her food or was it something else entirely? The dark haired demon narrowed her eyes a little and flicked her eyes towards the other person in the dining room. Eyes alighted on his left hand, there was no wedding ring. Still that didn’t mean the man was single but he was reading a newspaper. She could work with that.

Meg slid out of the booth and walked over to the counter and sat down next to the man, ’So what do you think of all the murders that have been happening in the area?’ she asked as she set her coffee down. She hadn’t read the paper that morning but she did know about the murders quite intimately. She had been the one committing them. When she didn’t have anything to do for Lucifer she liked to locate small towns with low crime rates and give them a little bit of a spike that they wouldn’t recover from for years to come. It was a nice hobby as far as she was concerned. Much better than knitting or scrapbooking…

’Never seen this many murders around here before… the man said and Meg smiled at him. He was older and she had a feeling the coming onto him angle wasn’t going to work exactly so she smiled, ’My boyfriend and I were thinking about moving somewhere around here but we aren’t too sure with the crime…’ she lied looking to engage the man in conversation. He shook his head some, ’Don’t let this little spike fool you. This is usually a quiet little town, probably some travelling serial killer. The cops’ll get him soon enough,’ the man said and Meg nodded, looking through the window in the kitchen. The waitress and the cook were nowhere to be seen and she tilted her head slightly.

The demon continued to talk to the man about neighborhoods and properties. How the town was a little on the poor side but the people were good. Meg was a pro at playing a part and she continued to seem like the eager house hunting girlfriend but she kept an eye on the window watching as the waitress reappeared, no cook to be found. Cradled in her arm she noticed a box. You have got to be kidding me… she thought to herself. She didn’t know how the young woman knew what she was but she didn’t like that at all. Reaching into the pocket of her jacket she pulled her knife, ’Sorry about this… she muttered to the man before stepping behind him and putting the knife up against his neck. He didn’t move a muscle or even drop his paper and she smirked, ’Have you ever been taken hostage before you seem like a pro…’ she said with a laugh

’I’ve suddenly lost my appitite…’ she said as Lark pushed past the door, ’I think it may have been the salt. Now I don’t need to tell you not to move or he gets it do I?’

Tags: Lark   Outfit: Here   Words: 747   Notes: Muhahaha
credit to tom felton at caution


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LARK AUGUSTINE
Posted: Jun 10 2012, 12:26 AM


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TOO HUMAN OR NOT HUMAN ENOUGH  

Upon pushing past the kitchen's swinging doors, Lark was brought up short by the sight of Meg and Jeffrey.The plate of food, which she'd been carrying on one flat palm, she moved closer to her body, absently gripping it by both sides and feeling the warmth of the plate seep into her fingers. She felt the door behind her swing closed, its momentum making it brush up against her back before it fell into its proper place. Lark's eyes moved swiftly from the demon's face, to Jeffrey's, and then to the knife the woman held against his neck. Surprised wouldn't be the right word for what she felt just then; more like resignation. Lark hadn't known what she would find upon stepping back into the storefront, but she supposed this ranked somewhere on the list of possibilities she'd run through. It didn't make it any better to witness, however. Lark's mouth drew into a line, and her eyes moved from the knife back to the demon holding it. "I've suddenly lost my appetite..." the demon drawled. "I think it may have been the salt. Now I don’t need to tell you not to move or he gets it do I?"

She didn't, of course. The brunette had been right in thinking that taking the time to secure the cook would put Jeffrey in danger. He was just a harmless man, kind, stuck to his routines and had a taste for Penny's homemade rhubarb tarts. Lark knew that if it was in her power to stop his death she would. She had no guarantees about the demon, what she would do -- Lark could obey every command the demon threw her way from where she stood with her knife to a human's neck and still the creature might choose to slit Jeffrey's throat once she'd decided Lark had outlived her usefulness, or her entertainment value; whatever it was that kept the demon from killing her on the spot. But if Lark refused to obey entirely, Jeffrey was as good as dead anyways. The demon had the upper hand in this; Lark could do nothing but concede to that point for the moment. She hardly had a good enough handle on her haywire telekinetic abilities for them to be reliable whatsoever at the moment.

The chance of Jeffrey getting out of this alive was slim, so slim. But it was there. She had very little hope of the human man leaving this diner alive or intact, but she couldn't focus on that. Such being the case, Lark glanced past the demon for a moment, taking in the windows, the lack of activity outside them. At this point, Lark didn't hold out hope that someone would walk by; rather, she hoped that no one would. They likely wouldn't live long enough to call for help, anyways.

"You don't," Lark conceded in response to the woman's previous question. Her eyes flickered to Jeffrey again; she thought about saying something comforting, but it'd be a hollow lie and probably only do more to motivate the demon and her plans. She turned back to the demon, a slight furrow forming in her brow. "So what is it you want?" she asked. That was the only reason she could think of that the demon would take Jeffrey as a hostage; the demon had questions, or demands. It wanted something. Lark would much rather know what precisely that was as soon as possible, although it made her chest tighten in worry.






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