A//N: Lol, I imagine growing up in heaven does that to you. :'D
//Casually wondering how Pipi got stuck in between two walls. xD
Loose Ends (6)
In which a minor character finds herself in an odd situation (and probably deserves it).
When she first laid eyes on her new surroundings, she knew immediately it was too good to be true.
It was an admittedly peaceful setting, a pastel green field with beautiful springs, surrounded by mountains on every side...
She stood awkwardly in front of the white table, tempted by the delicious foods laid out in front of her. The white chairs had already seemed suspicious enough, but she knew something was wrong when she noticed a winged man next to her.
"...Holy s**t you're tall." She informed the male angel, gaping rudely as she stared up at him.
The angel finally glanced at her, pencil paused as he stopped writing on his clipboard.
"Yes, yes I am." He responded evenly, going back to writing on his clipboard. She took another glance around, deciding that she was dead enough already for it not to matter if the food had been tampered with.
Surprisingly enough it tasted delicious, only making her more suspicious. This was all too...calm for where she had assumed she would go.
Though you couldn't blame her; many people agreed that she deserved to be sent to hell, practically everyone she had met. You didn't exactly imagine a badass gangster like her prancing around in heaven.
She glanced at the angel still standing next to her, figuring if she was going to ask anyone it had to be this guy.
"This ain't uh, this ain't heaven right?" She asked, attempting to make her city accent stand out more. The angel glanced down and rose an eyebrow at her, smirking.
"Worse."
She blinked and glanced around, taking a moment to stuff some more food in her face. It tasted pretty good, but she had the odd aftertaste of the food feeling sympathy for her.
"Some freaky layer of hell?" She guessed next, half expecting for the angel to suddenly morph into a demon and begin to hiss at her.
The angel laughed -- a sound so perfect it made her sick -- and shook his head, smirk becoming even wider.
"Still worse."
She gave him a dryly unamused look, crossing her arms as a man vaguely resembling Dr. Phil appeared on a stage. "Where the ******** am I, then?"
The angel's smirk became decidedly wicked as he looked down on her, writing something down without even looking at the paper.
She noticed a gothic girl sitting down in one of the chairs, wearing a slutty outfit and crying blood. Her hair was ridiculous in it's waist length, full of red and purple streaks. Her eyes were crimson and her lips shaded raven, and the mirror image faintly wondered why the hell she had just given up a paragraph of screen-time to describe a retarded looking teenager with big knockers and a tiny waist that -- [********]!
She tore her eyes away from the horrifying site before she could continue describing the girl in dramatic color-words, instead fixing her stare on the nice and apathetic looking angel who still hadn't answered her question.
"Well? She prodded impatiently, crossing her arms and trying to channel a menacing aura in front of the angel. The angel looks up from his clipboard and smiled gleefully, tucking the pencil behind his ear.
"Therapy. You're in therapy."
[********]
 Siyaahi · Mon Jun 11, 2012 @ 01:32pm · 0 Comments |
