( AN OPEN POST #2 )

[charmlessness]

 
 
 

you know the drill. pick your poison (not entirely limited to those listed). reply with a prompt in the form of a post, photo, song, text, voicemail, whatever your heart desires & receive a response. simple, right? right.

 
 
 

Comments

[dabbling]

She's an expert now, is she?

[ john holds the torch between his teeth, reaching toward the nearest corpse with both his hands. the skin is carved into, symbols and glyphs spread like art. the wounds are still fresh, but that does nothing for the smell of rot that reaches the back of his throat.

he turns over the corpse's hand in his own, looking at the specific symbol placed at the center of the palm. john raises a brow, mouthing the word hel-lo around the base of the light. he takes a step backwards, removing the torch. ]

You wouldn't.

[ he shines the light toward lydia. ]

That there's a demonic language.

[ the beam is pointed over the row of bodies. they're young, but older than the students that might frequent these halls. now, they're victims of a nasty bastard with a grudge on this town. the same one that's moving underneath their feet and hiding in the shadows. ]

Enochian, they call it. Straight from Hell's Bible — not your average King James version, this. What we're dealing with is something big. One nasty bugger looking to sink its teeth into your Beacon Hills.

[ john grins. ]

Lucky I'm here, then, eh?