Title: we're all to blame
Bela Talbot - October 31, 2009 01:20 AM (GMT)
There was a chapel whose affiliation Bela did not bother to read. She couldn't see how one was much different than another, not in times like these, not ever. And ultimately, what was the point in repentance when they were all glued to a world that couldn't be saved? It had been a long time since she believed in good and evil, if she ever really had. There was no point in attempting to save something in vain, and even less in trying to make it burn when it was already up in flames. Her family had betrayed her when she was a child, and the demons pulled her out of it by the scruff of the neck, but with a price. Now she was dealing with the Devil, just to get out of that mess.
Which brought her to the church. She didn't know if demons or Lucifer could cross onto holy ground, but she guessed it didn't really matter. The Devil still seemed to be sore about God tossing him out, and she doubted very much if he would like to be reminded. She took a seat in a pew, glancing at one of the bibles in front of her but not touching it. She didn't need God before, and she didn't need him now. He was nowhere to be found between her disgusting father and pathetic mother; it was a demon who was. And God let a little girl named Abby be manipulated by a demon posing as an answer to her prayers. She had no loyalty to God. He was a bastard, and his angels were bitches.
She heard the door open behind her, the sound of footsteps, but she didn't look up.
Hope Evans - October 31, 2009 02:16 AM (GMT)
Fingers bunched within the worn leather that surrounded her, blocking off the cool chill of the night air. Sleep was something that she found herself not needing at that moment, seeing images of dismay with each time that she closed her eyes. The flashes of faces that were taken without warning, and she sighed, closing her eyes a moment later. Some by her own hands, and others by Faith. It wasn't something that she wanted to remember, and the dreams of just reminders of just how demented that she could be. Sure, Faith was probably to blame for the majority, but what it was really her doing? Midnight stained strands danced in the moonlight, her head shaking in protest. No, it wasn't her. It couldn't have been. That was what she wanted to believe, anyway. Denial always makes people feel better, doesn't it?
Mingled greens peered ahead of her at the solid structure of the church, and she hesitated. There was something about churches that bothered her, or maybe it was just the mentioning of God. She wasn't sure. God wasn't there for her, but yet she wanted to believe. Maybe to make her feel a little better about her actions? Sighing, a hand moved to push along the huge, solid doors. Her gaze dropped to the carpet and a moment later she glanced around at the empty pews, before zeroing in on the woman that sat alone. She was a bit shocked at the fact that she wasn't alone, but that didn't stop her. Her steps carried her forward, moving to take a seat on the opposite side of the church and hoping that she hadn't disturbed the woman as delicate fingers smoothed over her features; letting her head rest there.
Bela Talbot - November 3, 2009 02:52 PM (GMT)
No, Bela did not want to be bothered right now. She didn't want to be needed or on either side of the stupid war the Winchesters started, but what more did she expect? Their intellect certainly wasn't something she had a lot of faith in, not now, not ever. However, jump-starting the apocalypse certainly wasn't something she had in mind. Getting themselves or screwing up with the cops, maybe, but releasing all of Hell and then setting Lucifer free? Smooth, boys, smooth. Truth be told, she didn't really want to be in a church either, but here she was.
She wanted her life back. Her job, the fun. And yes, Bela Talbot had lots of fun running scams and conning people, and even more fun when she managed to procure a very rare, very priceless item. Now that was taken from her and she was a little bit pissed, even if she couldn't complain about wriggling free of her deal once and for all. Someone else entered the church, someone who she didn't recognize. Maybe she felt like playing a con at least one more time before her life was taken over by a war she didn't even give a damn about. Maybe she needed to. Either way, something drove her to address the other woman. She stood up and walked over to the other set of pews, taking a seat and she propped up her head with a balled fist. “Hello there. Do you come here often?”
Hope Evans - November 4, 2009 02:44 PM (GMT)
Eyes that once contained that bright quality were now dark, and almost desprite. Things were slowly changing, darkening from the inside out and she could only hope that others didn't notice the obvious change that was occurring. It was something that had been in the works for years, but was only now starting to break to the surface, bleeding through. Faith. The mere mention of the name sent shivers up her spine. Sure, it wasn't always like that, but things were different now. She was stronger, wanting out and wasn't going to let anything stand in her way. Nothing. This would be the reason that she was in the church to begin with. Hope wasn't one to praise God. Sure, she believed in him. She believed in a higher power, sure, but she didn't praise or worship especially when her biological parents were slaughtered in cold blood. She wanted to, she did, but things were that easy any longer. The Apocolypse was here. The freaking Devil was walking along the same streets as her foot carried her on.
Sighing, the movement of the other woman caught her attention, but she didn't dare move. She stayed put, her head in her hands and letting her mind reel over everything that was currently bothering her. The list wasn't something short either, but the question made her raise a bit, her darker gaze settling on her. Nearly jaded eyes narrowed a bit, growing stern at the thoughts that coursed through the woman's mind. Really? Who in the hell was she kidding? "FIrst of all, don't get all friendly coming over here and thinking that you can have your jollies. I don't have anything worthy of your time." With that she sank back into the pew, arms crossed over her chest, staring the woman down. "Now, to the real question .. you obviously don't, so what's your reasoning, hm? Bad day? The Apocolypse have you down? You miss your man of shit?"
Bela Talbot - November 8, 2009 03:46 PM (GMT)
Bela was not a woman who was easily taken aback. When she was surprised, she hardly showed it, and so she worked quickly to regain her composure. She slid down in the pew and sat, glancing at the other woman in front of her with a calculating gaze. No, that wasn't what she had been expecting at all. “So I take it you're a psychic, then?” she responded easily, her tone just slightly cool as she looked down at her nails. No, she definitely wasn't the cheap imitation that Bela so often played with her Ouija boards and Tarot cards. Regardless of the comfort she offered them, what she did was never real. Then again, she could just have heard of Bela, so she looked up from her nails and smiled in a way that was hardly friendly. “Or not. Either way, that was hardly polite of you.”
“No, but I am indebted to him for shooting me and...waking me up.” Too bad it hurt like a bitch. She wasn't about to be even more gracious than she already was, but when the time came, she would pay her dues to him and then let it lie. Unless it was to be paid in Hell, she always fully intended to pay out her own debts. “So why are you such a bitch? Demon kill your lover? Demon is your lover? Tell me, am I getting warmer?”
Hope Evans - November 9, 2009 06:30 PM (GMT)
Alright, so she knew about psychics. She wasn't too sure who the woman was, but it was obvious that she was ranking high on the bitch chain. That chain in itself is a pretty big slate, ranging through almost every woman in the freaking world. Hope was sure that was on there, too, especially with days like this when Faith was resting at the surface and jumping to get out and play a bit. "Well, aren't you a smart little cookie." Her tone was flat, almost amused at the fact that she hit the nail on the head about her what she was. A slight chuckle escaped her throat, sliding over her teeth and scraping over her lips as her head turned to take a good look around the place before she finally peered back with a wicked smirk, "Who said that I was polite? The fucking Apocalypse is staring everybody in the face .. what's the point? There's no end for pleasantries .. we're all going to hell, anyway, and if I'm not mistaken you should have already be there." The memories flooded to her, leaving her with a bitter taste in her mouth from the lack of brimstone that lingered around her form.
A light smirk captured her lips, as her head leaned back against the pew, listening to her own inquiries. Slightly wicked laughter crept from her lips, "Clever, I see, but that has no matter in why I'm such a bitch. You wouldn't understand." Eyes darkened with that, a jade hue staring sternly at her before the lightness struggled a bit, but recovered none the less. She wasn't about to do anything in a church. Hope was sure that she was going to burn, but she didn't need to up her debt in any way, shape or form and in her eyes that would do just that.
Bela Talbot - November 17, 2009 08:55 PM (GMT)
Bela looked at Hope, fingering the talisman in her pocket with a sudden anxiety. Her emotions seemed to shut off in times of great stress, but it didn't stop the absentminded movement in the cave of her jacket pocket. It was true that she did not know this woman, and she did not care to, but the business-woman in her came to the fore. It would be in her own best interests to keep talking in order to find out more. A psychic... Yes, she was a smart cookie, enough to know when to guess and check, and when to keep strangers talking. It couldn't hurt to stay, whether this irritatingly furious woman was worth her time or not. Thanks to Lucifer (and damn, did it feel weird to think that), she had no immediate clients or other jobs to do. All she had to do was find Sam, and the Winchesters were predictable. Finding him would be a piece of cherry pie. “There never was any end besides death. Most people would be burning away in hell anyway,” she replied without much sensitivity. After a brief moment, her eyes flicked up to the other's, and she said, “I have quite the penchant for slipping out of tight situations.” The words held a certain pride, and she had reason for that pride. Time and time again she had foiled plots and gotten her way out; this time wouldn't be any different.
Though the thought of losing the talisman while the deal still hadn't been sealed with Lucifer sent her to feel a sudden pound of what she remembered as fear. More than anything, she didn't want to die. She was quite determined to live through all this, apocalypse or no.
Try me, she almost said, but caught herself. It wasn't within her nature to exploit her own weaknesses or difficulties. She did not want to commiserate or try to one up someone on the shitty life scale. On the contrary, she'd much rather make her life seem like peaches and cream. For years she had distanced herself from the pain, so much so that she didn't bother to give a damn about anything emotional. Not for herself, and definitely not for those around her. “No, I probably wouldn't,” she responded with a disaffected tone, her expression neutral. It was no news that Bela Talbot was a bitch herself. A blind man could see it plainly. Regardless, she wasn't going to open a door she'd rather stay shut. Not unless she could get something out of it.
“So why the depressing outlook? You're a regular James Joyce.”
Hope Evans - November 26, 2009 04:55 AM (GMT)
Slender limbs were now folded over her chest, resting there as her head fell back to the back of the pew. This was something that she never thought would happen in a million years. God was slowly becoming a figment of her imagination. The spirit of something that once was, that once cared and gave a helping hand when needed .. that was until the whole Apocalypse was staring her right in the place. It was only a matter of time before everything went to hell in a hay basket, and the devil would just stand by with a bright, big grin plasted along his twisted features. Swallowing, she forced the lump that formed to subside, hoping that it was gone for the moment and continued to look at the thief before her with a slightly darker gaze. Hope was still unaware of why she was posted up in a church to begin with, much less talking to someone that she could give two shits about. But, here she was, in a church and speaking to a thief who thought that she knew more than she actually did.
“I have quite the penchant for slipping out of tight situations.”
A thin brow quirked at her statement, her head dangling to the side as it rested along her shoulder and she breathed out, "This is apparent .. considering, the simple fact that you're still here and all." Her tone was flat, bland with a slight 'I could give two shits' tone to her voice. This was the last thing that Hope had in mind of what she wanted to be doing on a night like this. Her head inclined, though, at her thought and she almost humored the idea of letting Faith out for a bit, to play. The result wouldn't have been pretty, though, and Hope was well aware of this, so in her better judgement decided against it. "Try you?" A faint laughter posed as she spoke, her brow still elegantly quirked, ".. trust me. You don't want that." With that her features hardened, grew a bit darker and she could only imagine that her face was only going to grow that much sterner as the conversation progressed.
“So why the depressing outlook? You're a regular James Joyce.”
Her gaze dropped to the carpet then, observing the fluffed texture for a moment before her gaze realigned; her gaze dark and wicked. "Do you really want to know why little miss. Hope is so down?" Smirking, she stared straight at her, the faint twinge of her other self was showing through, and she was slowly regretting the idea of coming into the church minute by minute.
Bela Talbot - January 3, 2010 02:27 AM (GMT)
Bela sighed audibly, the look upon her face completely serene. There was an edge behind her eye, however. The sort of edge one might have if they harbored the tendencies necessary to be able to kill without a second thought or to let people die if it meant more for themselves. It was the sort of look acquired by one who possessed utmost self-preservation after years of fending for themselves, or operating within the state of mind that they needed to. Bela Talbot knew exactly who she could trust, the one and only person, and that was herself. She knew it better than most, and she also stood by the trusty old cliche to 'always look out for number one.' This other woman who sat only a pew away seemed dangerously straightforward, a brashness that was both rare and hardly safe to possess. Surely someone would shoot her sooner or later. But Bela just continued to address her serenely.
She looked down to reference a pocketwatch for the time, something she carried more for its occult market value than for any sentimental reasons. Anyway, it gave her something to do when she would much rather pull out a .45 and shoot her company. Oh, no, she was much too good of a business woman to behave so erratically. "You try very hard to sound like you don't give a damn. What a paradox," she replied in a tone that harbored little, if any emotion. Her opinion of the other woman hardly existed before. She was a psychic, which could be useful, but she doubted someone with so fiery a temper would be of any use to her. Other pragmatic individuals were her best bet, those that could be swayed easily with large sums of money, no questions asked, no apparent memory of it afterward.
It was once she knew beyond all reasonable doubt that this other woman could hardly ever be counted on in such a way that her tone shifted. She raised an eyebrow, and she had certainly asked for it. "Well, I have a feeling that you'll be boring me with your life tale anyway, or you'll just give me some smartass answer. You're not a hunter, perchance?" she inquired with an impish smile, knowing most hunters to talk more than they'd like to say they did, or to have more than their share of brash humor. It was both an insult and an honest question, as her opinion of vindictive sociopaths was quite low.
Hope Evans - January 8, 2010 03:36 AM (GMT)
Sitting there Hope grew still, listening to the woman and taking in her features. The expressions that only lingered on those who had been through hell and back again. Expessions that she had seen in the mirror mulitple times on hand, but wouldn't dare mirror the looks of the other woman. It was hardly rude, even if she hadn't already thought that of it. Today, Hope was in one of those moods that required silence. Silence for herself, so she could be able to just let peace surround her and urge the beast back into its cage. It was days like these that Faith could easily find a way to pop through the barrier, to spring forth and have a little fun. Fun that required the spill of crimson, the crushing of bones and the lack of life that lay in the lifeless heaps of flesh that would normally lay beneath her stance. One of those days that murder would address the papers of the fellowing day, reading of mysterious causes and the talk of the search continuing. It had happened so many times, and yet - here she was, only seeing the jail cell once, and only once thanks to an ex that just couldn't take it any longer to see her locked up in such a way.
The woman's statement made her head tilt, watching her with a slight amusement at her words. Try? A faint laughter escaped her vocals, smiling wickedly into the woman's direction, ahead of her, I'm not sure that she's trying, sweetie. Dark green eyes floated over to the woman, that sinister look upon her face before eyes slammed shut; features scrunching for a moment before a breath of relief was released. Lips pressed a moment later, eyes slowly opening before light green eyes were revealed and the struggle was beginning. Good versus evil. Or, so it should have been. Hope was anything but 'good', but compared to her other half she was a freaking angel. A winged crreature with that glowing crown upon her head.
Thoughts. It was something that humored her, made her giggle a little as she looked at her, You can't be serious? The question was posed, but to something that was never spoken, but thought of. You're right. I wouldn't be of any use .. not to you, anyway. I wouldn't aid a thief. Her tone was a bit harsh, laced with an almost venom that would kill anyone without a hundred yards distance. Then the question that was posed made her blood boil, her features stern and her jaw set, Let me guess .. you had a bad childhood, made a few wrong choices and then jumped right now into your little role of thief hoping to feel the void left behind by mommy and daddy - how am I doing so far? There was that venom again, but she couldn't help it. Hunters. They were what her family did, not her persay, but the rest of them .. yes.
Bela Talbot - March 4, 2010 03:46 AM (GMT)
Bela Talbot most certainly had quite a few skeletons stacked up in her closet. Most she would rather not think about, and many of which she just had no concern for. Though this right now was making her feel a little uneasy. She was perfectly stoic when faced with the barrel of a loaded gun, but the holder of that gun was usually rational. The sudden switch to the third person, and the accompanying expression made her fully aware that there was something very off-kilter about the other woman. Something that she did not necessarily want to test, because there was no rationalization to irrational behavior. “Right,” she began before she could stop herself. “I'm sure she's not.”
She smiled without much geniality, smiling just for the sake of smiling or for something to do with her face, or maybe just to shield what was happening in her head. She didn't bother to reply at first, because when it all came down to it, it did not matter whether this other woman would aid a thief or not; she would be no use to her regardless. She didn't even bother with one of her prideful ripostes about the thief comment, just observed the change in the other young woman, how she suddenly seemed 'normal' again.
Most presumptions were wrong. The other woman had no idea and she shouldn't have even tried to make a comment, but it always happened. Everyone assumed that no one else had proper reason for doing what they did, but Bela Talbot never intended to put justification to her actions. Sure, she had relatively no morale and would do just about anything and commit any sort of crime if the price was right, but how was anyone else any more noble? And if anything was to be said, at least being paid to do a job and doing it was healthier. Her sanity. She had that.
But that didn't prevent the flashes of memories and all the thoughts she tried to stuff into a back pocket of her mind. A hand running up the outside of her thigh, another on her shoulder, pushing her back. Aristocratic hands that were too soft to be most male hands, rough in action but not in texture. And she remembered the stiff feeling of her cheeks after being soaked by salty tears, her lips chapped from biting them while crying on the edge of her bed. But all she did was look up from the pew and at Hope Evans, smiling serenely as if these memories had never occurred and like they were not recurring like a silent movie all over again. “We all have... dark splotches on our past.” She drew in a breath while she paused, raising an eyebrow and offering a cool smile. “I get paid to do a job and I do it, and I do this because I am skilled at it and the payout is the most... favorable. Simple as that.”
Hope Evans - April 3, 2010 01:49 AM (GMT)
Arms were firmly crossed over her chest then, eyes daring as they darted into the woman's direction. A faint anger flared as the fire behind greens blazed at the words and thoughts that were surely circulating at a fast rate. Hope noted the woman's gaze now, the doubt that flowed within her gaze at the situation that was slowly beginning to play out. Faith. Yes, irony, such a lovely thing. She had broke her bounds, peering through the surface only to smirk that devious smile and speak only for a moment. It was obvious that the woman had caught it all, though refused to speak of it .. in fear? Was it fear that prompted her to do so? Possibly; considering, she probably wasn't quite sure what to make of her and what little Miss. Hope was completely capable of.
The smile that caught her attention wasn't much of something that could have been put into the category of being genuine. She wasn't sure that much could have been with that woman, nothing at all. That expression that seemed to fade a bit as Faith ceased, only to let jaded greens break away to leave behind the light glow of that of the emerald stone that stone bright and true. Situations such as these were something that bothered her, knowing that her state was vulnerable if that pest was able to break through at all. It was something that pulled at her nerves, urging her in the fight for complete control over her very own body.
Breathing out, arms continued to stay in place over her torso while her gaze stayed steadily ahead of her; staring the woman down with that of intensity. Features were hardened, jaw tight as she watched the woman ahead of her. Was was about the woman that bothered her so much? Maybe it was the fact that she pretty much downed her whole fucking family in one solemn breath. Yes. That would be it. Eyes watched the woman's reactions, her thoughts reeling through her own and she couldn't stop how her features seemed to soften at the memories of her younger days. Swallowing, her gaze averted to the carpet below, breathing out once more as she peered around only to return to the appearance of the woman's cool features, Dark splotches? Some more than most .. have asphalt paved with blood. Her voice seemed to grow dark then, swallowing only to have her head shake at her own words, You have a job that requires stealing from people to obtain money .. oh yeah, that's healthy.