cape_kore | 1st Drink | Video

[Her face is a mass of scrapes and cuts. One is still seeping down the side of her face. Her right eye swells shut even as she stares at the thing on her wrist. The swelling eye has broken blood vessels and there's blood - some hers - all over her.

Behind her, the sun is slowly setting, turning everything golden and red. Two colors that she never wants to see ever again.

She can’t quite believe where the hell she’s at, or what’s going on.

The voice hadn't been helpful. If she is here, where is Jo? Dirty tear streaks are visible. But she's not crying now. She's just tired. And hurt.

Whispy blonde hairs fly off of her shoulder as the wind tugs them away. Her hand appears in the frame, covered in blood with broken nails and dirt ground into the skin. It’s also shaking. She uses the back to shove her hair out of her face. All that does is open a soft scab on her forehead, making it bleed more.]

If this is heaven, I ain’t impressed. Where the hell is my daughter?

[OOC: She has just gone through an explosion and looks it. Yes, she has some pretty horrible looking injuries (from her app: Nails in her arms (4), some deep cuts, a mild concussion, blown out eardrum, her right eye will have destroyed blood vessels in it, cracked collarbone, bruises (all over), scratches, a few first degree flash burns, splinters that will have to work their way out; nothing is life threatening, but it will need medical attention, and time. All of it will heal, given time.) but all will, eventually heal. Anyone that wants to come bully her is welcome. Medical personnel is doubly welcome.]

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[ Hey look who it is, Ellen, it's your favourite demon. Only currently she's not a demon thanks to all the weirdness going on. ]

Firstly, it's not Heaven. Got a bunch of feathery jerks, lacking fluffy white clouds and rainbows.

Secondly, Military Barbie Doll™ isn't here.

[She just stares for a moment. Incomprehension is the first thing she feels. This bitch of a demon is here, but not her baby girl.]

Demon bitch.

[She wants to say more, but she's too stunned to think of what it might be.]

I see you remember me. I remember you too, sugar.

Quite the firework display.

Too bad I just took out the four-legged bitches.

[Because she knows she did. Something in her heart tells her that of all that happened, the hounds were kept away from Dean and Sam.]

There's always more where they came from. [ Not that Meg wants to run into any, any time soon, but that's beside the point. ]

So, I suppose I should offer you medical assistance since it's the angelic thing to do, or something.

[The bark of laughter from Ellen is far more bitter than most think she's capable of.]

You keep your hell-stink away from me.

That's no way to speak to an angel of the Lord, now is it, sweet stuff?

I drink with them. You, I'd just shoot.

[Oh Castiel...]

Bullets won't do much good. Not unless you're planning on melting down an angel blade to make them out of. Good luck finding one.

[ Leave her little unicorn out of it. ]

Sure you've pissed off one or more of them. Won't be the first time I've made bullets.

[Cas was hers first. So there.]

I've pissed a lot of people off. But I got friends in high places too.

[Ellen contemplates that. Lucifer. Daddy must be here. Had the boys failed? Had they not managed to kill the bastard. But Sammy hasn't said yes either. She can handle that.

But then, a smile crosses her face, cracking the dirt, and sending fresh blood welling out of a cut.]

And they're stuck here too. Doesn't seem like they're doing very well, are they?

[ Oh please! Her days of running around after Lucifer are well and truly over.

Even if they did have a bit of a heart to heart here. ]

I'll have you know my little unicorn is doing fine, thanks.

[Not last Ellen looked!

Her snort of derision turns into heavy coughing. Fucking smoke to the lungs.]

Unicorn?

Yeah, my little angel that could.

[ She rolls her eyes. ]

Sure you don't want me to fix you up? Healing hands and everything.

And... what exactly makes you so sure you're headed upstairs?

[Not that he disagrees, but he's grouchy at the moment, and that makes him even more inclined than usual to stir up as much trouble as he can.]

Like I said. Hands to yourself.

[No no angel mojo from you.]

Gut instinct.

[Killed hellhounds, sacrificed herself trying to prevent the apocalypse... you know, typical hero bullshit.]

Suit yourself. Please try not to bleed out all over the place. We like to keep it tidy.

Oh? Sounds unpleasant - might wanna get that checked out when the hordes of doctors turn up.

You don't want to go to Heaven. Trust me on that.

Stay where you are and don't sleep. There are medics around somewhere. Someone will find you. [He'd actually be willing to help, himself. It's a testament to his innate sense of compassion that even as a Leviathan he feels some pity for a stranger.

Still, he's not help now. He's just a monster.]

Don't need a doctor. Someone wants to direct me to the supplies and I'll patch myself up.

[Stitching a few wounds is going to be a bitch. And she hasn't realized the broken collar bone yet.]

Have you seen yourself?

So someone told me once.

[Castiel? She thinks, maybe. Or maybe it was one of the many nightmares that plagued her before Carthage.]

You know where I can get some supplies. Not looking forward to a sawbones working on me. I've patched up worse.

Prettying up for the welcoming committee wasn't at the top of the list.

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1st Drink | Video | Day 60

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