miss maggie (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bossymarmalade) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thejusticelounge2012-09-16 09:20 am
bossymarmalade) wrote in thejusticelounge2012-09-16 09:20 am
Entry tags:
pennies
Jason Blood did not feel well at all. Being an Immortal did not make one immune from everyday ailments. The only difference is that when most people hurt so badly that they think they want to die, they actually can – he can’t. He had fought through a day of fever and chills, suspecting food poisoning. Living as long as he had, Jason should know better what kinds of foods he can take. But that shawarma looked too good to pass up. And he had paid the price for it.
But now that his system had been run through with a bulldozer yesterday, Jason thought he might feel better today. No such luck.
A bowl of soup was no help either. Jason gave up and just headed back to bed, pulling his blanket over him and shivering. His Chicago suburb apartment felt hot. His skin felt clammy. “This might be more than a case of bad shawarma after all” he thought. A little more rest was in order. Jason closed his eyes and struggled to keep down the little bit of soup he had managed to eat. Eventually, he fell asleep…
His dreams that night were of Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln? No not the president. The coin. Pennies. Tons and tons of pennies. The almost forgotten member of the US currency family. Showers and waterfalls made of pennies. Made of pennies. Pennies. Made of. Pennies made of… copper?
Jason lifted open his heavy eyelids to bright sunshine. Copper. He tasted copper. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, gradually becoming aware that he was no longer in his bed. He was on the ground outdoors in a wooded area. It was daytime. And he tasted copper.
Jason Blood sat up and took stock. His clothes were ripped. But they were not the clothes he was wearing when got in bed. Strange… No one appeared to be in the area. He seemed to be alone. The front of his shirt was wet and stained with something. Blood. Ah, yes. Now he recognized it. Jason tasted blood, not copper. He was covered in blood.
He had no memory of getting dressed, of coming out to these woods. He had no real idea where he was or why he was blood-soaked. Jason figured it would be a good idea to try to find his way back.
Standing, Jason noticed for the first time the carcasses of two large grey wolves behind him. Both throats were ripped open and laid bare. Both were missing their eyes. Both looked like they had their tongues ripped out.
Inspecting himself, Jason found scratches and cuts on his arms and legs, but he seemed mostly unhurt. Bending down and looking closer at the dead animals, Jason could see how their throats were slashed. Through centuries, Jason could easily identify Etrigan’s handy work when he saw it. He did not see it this time.
This was not the work of the Demon. This was the work of smaller hands. This was the work of a smaller mouth. This was the work of a man. This… was not good.
Jason could feel Etrigan inside of him. He had become attuned to the Demon’s moods through the years and now Etrigan seemed docile – bored even. The answer to Jason’s questions did not lay with his demonic partner. He would have to find them elsewhere.
Jason started the long walk back towards civilization and towards answers. He had lost control and had no memory of how or why. And control was Jason’s most necessary trait. Without it, he and those close to him could be hurt – or worse.
For the first time in years, Jason Blood was scared…
But now that his system had been run through with a bulldozer yesterday, Jason thought he might feel better today. No such luck.
A bowl of soup was no help either. Jason gave up and just headed back to bed, pulling his blanket over him and shivering. His Chicago suburb apartment felt hot. His skin felt clammy. “This might be more than a case of bad shawarma after all” he thought. A little more rest was in order. Jason closed his eyes and struggled to keep down the little bit of soup he had managed to eat. Eventually, he fell asleep…
His dreams that night were of Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln? No not the president. The coin. Pennies. Tons and tons of pennies. The almost forgotten member of the US currency family. Showers and waterfalls made of pennies. Made of pennies. Pennies. Made of. Pennies made of… copper?
Jason lifted open his heavy eyelids to bright sunshine. Copper. He tasted copper. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, gradually becoming aware that he was no longer in his bed. He was on the ground outdoors in a wooded area. It was daytime. And he tasted copper.
Jason Blood sat up and took stock. His clothes were ripped. But they were not the clothes he was wearing when got in bed. Strange… No one appeared to be in the area. He seemed to be alone. The front of his shirt was wet and stained with something. Blood. Ah, yes. Now he recognized it. Jason tasted blood, not copper. He was covered in blood.
He had no memory of getting dressed, of coming out to these woods. He had no real idea where he was or why he was blood-soaked. Jason figured it would be a good idea to try to find his way back.
Standing, Jason noticed for the first time the carcasses of two large grey wolves behind him. Both throats were ripped open and laid bare. Both were missing their eyes. Both looked like they had their tongues ripped out.
Inspecting himself, Jason found scratches and cuts on his arms and legs, but he seemed mostly unhurt. Bending down and looking closer at the dead animals, Jason could see how their throats were slashed. Through centuries, Jason could easily identify Etrigan’s handy work when he saw it. He did not see it this time.
This was not the work of the Demon. This was the work of smaller hands. This was the work of a smaller mouth. This was the work of a man. This… was not good.
Jason could feel Etrigan inside of him. He had become attuned to the Demon’s moods through the years and now Etrigan seemed docile – bored even. The answer to Jason’s questions did not lay with his demonic partner. He would have to find them elsewhere.
Jason started the long walk back towards civilization and towards answers. He had lost control and had no memory of how or why. And control was Jason’s most necessary trait. Without it, he and those close to him could be hurt – or worse.
For the first time in years, Jason Blood was scared…