fridgetothefire | 068 ☣ cindery, nonexistent, radiant

[Video]

[She's posting from the floor of the maintenance office, where she is on a tarp in the middle of a mess, boxes and sponges and bits of felt and ash and mutilated pens scattered all around her. She has smears of blue and black ink on her face and hands and bathrobe she's wearing - which, when she turns, is open in a deep V-wedge to keep her mostly decent without touching the red, fist-sized external heart now clutching steadily in the center of her chest. She tries to brush her hair out of her face, and adds to the ink smudges.]

If you're fighting the parasites, or demons, or whatever they are, come by the office. I made stamps with the anti-possession sigil on them. They're a little haphazard, but they'll work. Once you clear someone, stamp them. I don't want anyone getting reinfected.

[Open Spam, wibbly time through through the general throwdown arc]

[Anya is also running around exorcising people herself, knocking on doors, poking anyone she finds to see if they'll snarl or flinch. She's weary and bloody and bruised, after the first one or two, and she could probably use some backup to help fight the monsters once she forces them to manifest with the rituals Dean taught her.]

[Spam for Ben, backdated a wee bit to before the sha throwdown kicked into high gear]

[With Dean shuffled off to the kitchens, Andrew gone, and Stephen and Tig in comas, no is left in maintenance to notice Anya not turning up to work but Peter, and he won't hassle her about it. So when she wakes up to find a fresh heart tucked between and a little below her breasts, arteries and veins sliding back under the skin, the raw muscle wet and twitch, rabbit-fast with her shock, she decides that today is a good day to hide in her room and eat jerky and crackers and do nothing and see no one.

Until, of course, he comes to check on her, and her door opens for him, just like it always does.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He gives a pointed whine, but nods...and then is distracted by the cries the sulky smoke monster at his feet is making. It curls around itself, squealing in protest at Anya's chanting]

...'uht..

[She can't break stride in the recitation to shush him, can't tap his lips with a fingertip because one hand is bloody and the other is ready on her drill. She catches his eye as much as she can, keeps going steadily. She sees the thing. The thing is expected.

The thing does not expect, as she rattles off the last lines, to be dragged from smoke and shoved into the slapdash weight of its own new flesh.]

[Chris, on his bed, jumps about a mile and yanks his feet up off the ground, making an incomprehensible noise of surprise, as the thing squeals in protest, wriggling around on the ground]

[It's hard to be sure where these things' vital organs go. Anya's personal defaults are center-mass, anywhere it has a large body target, and between anything that looks like eyes. The drill vrrrs and she jabs at the creature, tries to bore through it, pin it to the floor.]

[The creature gives a high-pitched scream of anger and pain, wriggling around on the floor, caught by the drill. As Chris watches in astonishment, its movements slow, hissing vilely]

[She gets a boot on it, grinds down while shifting the drill to make another hole somewhere plausible-looking, grimly determined.]

....An'a?

[Chris leans over to stare at the dead-looking thing, making a face]

....Oh, 'uck! 'ow-ee, no! 'ad dog!

[You're damn right that Chris' stupid pomeranian has jumped off the bed to start licking the pussy flesh-colored thing]

[She sort of kicks at Bowie half-heartedly.]

Yeah, I have literally no idea what these things are made of but it's probably not nutritious.

[At Anya's nudge, Bowie barks angrily and begins attacking Anya's ankle, bitting her pant leg and making growling noises. Chris huffs in annoyance and goes to reclaim his dog]

'hat 'ing was inside ee?

Yeah, congratulations.

[She puts the drill down and gets out her hand-cut stamp.]

Give me your arm, this'll keep it from happening again.

[Chris warily extends his arm, squinting at Anya]

I feel bedder.

[She lets out a small breath.]

Good.

[She stamps him, firm and precise, so as not to smudge the lines, then blows on the little sigil.]

Don't wash it or smudge or rub it, okay? It only works while the design is intact, but we don't have the time to tattoo everyone. Okay?

[He looks down at his hand, turning it over to look at the stamp on the back]

So 'hat, I haf to vear a glove vhen I sho-er?

Just be grungy for a couple of days. One-time-only permission.

Suh-eeet.

...T'anks.

It's gonna be a little crazy out there for a while.

[She doesn't, like, hug him or anything. She squeezes his shoulder though.]

Take care.

[Chris blinks, and rolls off his bed to trail after Anya]

'Ait!

...Whut if ozzers..?

Other people do something, other monsters do something, or other people are infected by other monsters? Because that's what I'm working on.

Thurd un.

I wunna helph.

Yeah, I don't think your latin pronunciation is really up to speed right now.

[It's not mean, though. She understands that wanting.]

Go look after Cassel? Give him a hug, tell him how dumb your dog is. I got him cleared but it was really rough.

...Kay.

Bo-ee's not dumb. He'sh smart.

Uh-huhn.

[Seriously, though -]

Thanks.

[She hated to leave him, but - she has to do this.]

[Chris nods, sitting back down on his bed and watching Anya. He rubs his jaw after a minute, before swinging his legs up and over onto the bed, giving a sigh. Complications]

068 ☣ cindery, nonexistent, radiant

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]

[Action!]