driftfleet | Try Catching Flootemon with your Communicator!

[crossing her arms, Meg takes a step or two back to lean against a building, the picture of comfortable. She doesn't seem bothered by the fact that someone else here could be a threat to her life - that was practically a Tuesday to her, and being a demon came with it's perks as well as it's downsides. Being hunted almost nonstop was certainly a downside, but - well, she'd been hunted for years, now. She was an old hat at it now]

Can't or won't. Some people like to pretend.

[a smile, quirking up in the corner]

Is he a hunter, or he just doesn't like little ol' things like me?

[ Lauralae, at least, had no intentions towards Meg and no reason to harm anyone here on the fleet- not yet, at least. No one had proven themselves to be a threat, and the only person she was deliberately avoiding was the Spirit that knew her before she knew herself, that had betrayed her own knowledge and left her terrified and weak in his wake. Now she is stronger for it, true, but she doesn't want to know what else he might see in her. Instead, she watches Meg, nodding once in agreement. ]

They are fools for it, nothing else.

[ But then she turns away, frowning a little. ]

He mislikes demons. He sees them all as monsters, and would likely harm you if he knew what you were.

[Meg's intentions are still up in the air, even if she has an agreement to behave. Not that she's going to go out and stir up trouble. She isn't what she used to be - hasn't been in a long time, if she's being honest - and it just doesn't seem like that much fun anymore. Sure, sitting around behaving isn't fun either, but only one of those options will end with her dead.

Maybe. She's pretty sure someone can die of boredom]

Well, I can't fault him there. But I'll do my best to stay out of his path.

[ Lauralae nods, listening, and glad to have been understood. She doesn't usually go out of her way to help and aid people, and she certainly doesn't usually try to give people advice, but there's a quiet kinship here that makes life a little easier for her to understand, to bear, and she bows her head again, shyness overtaking her. One day she might be more accustomed to her nature, to herself, to what she has become, but until then she will simply have to gather her wits and accept the fact that it will not be simple.

Shifting, she crosses her arms, frowning as she looks out over at the crowds of people, all milling around and sharing memories.

She has nothing that anyone would like to see. ]

Good. He is a fool.

[Meg can appreciate that it seems to be an earnest warning; there aren't many who would give her those, knowing what she is. In fact, she can count on one hand the number of people who would bother to care about her wellbeing. Actually, more like one one finger, and that person being Sam Winchester. And that was only because she'd sacrificed herself for him and his brother and Castiel.

The thought makes her wrinkle her nose a little. Sam had told her to find allies, though, and maybe this was a start. Friends were one thing, but acquaintances, maybe. She had to admit that this place gave her that opportunity]

In my experience, most men like that are. Especially when they aren't the type to listen to reason.

[ It's very similar for Lauralae; she has lived a life of no friends since she lost her adoptive mother and she had grown used to the isolation, grown accustomed to what it meant to allow herself to live in solutide. Reaching out, branching out, actually speaking to others about who she is and what she has become - that's something different, an side-effect that came with the balm of the Fleet. If she had never come here, if she had never been confronted with Cole, met Leto...

Breathing out, she closes her eyes, considering for a moment before she forces herself to calm. She tilts her head up, watching, considering, before she stands a little taller. This woman had confessed to being a demon; Lauralae ought to have no fear in confessing her own sins. Careful, she takes a step closer, careful and uncertain before she speaks. ]

He would not listen to me if he knew the truth of what I was.

[ Her voice is low and quiet, but she's obviously determined. ]

You are a demon. I am a Revenant. We would both be his enemies.

[Meg has come to learn, very quickly, that what people were or could be was very different from her world. Friendly vampires or werewolves, demons who weren't hunted for what they were or answered to a King of Hell . . . it took some getting used to, having everything she knew be something entirely different in this new world. Maybe one day it'd work in her favor, but now she simply lurks at the borders, and sometimes she can't help but marvel, just a little, that the supernatural are simply accepted here, as if they were as human as the ones walking around.

So when Lauralae admits to what she is, even if her first thought is the revenants she knows of, she's pretty sure the girl means something different. She knows better than to make assumptions, and if her own feelings towards the girl were anything to go by, well. She couldn't be the kind of revenant she was thinking of]

I'm assuming that means something other than a ghost with unfinished business. [the Winchesters would be proud, she thinks, that she picked up most of this knowledge from them. Sure, it was from stalking them, more or less, but that was a minor, unimportant detail]

It sounds like he makes a habit of collecting enemies he doesn't need.

[ At least there's no sudden hatred or attempts on her life, which Lauralae appreciates with a quiet sort of dignity that keeps her head held high and her determination sure. She's still somewhat uncertain about admitting to others what she has only recently learned to be the truth, not trusting the wider population to be kind or gentle towards her - she only trusted Leto in that regard, and it had come with some time of gaining trust as if she was a savage wolf that required aid.

Perhaps she had been, or still was. But it was not for her to say - others make their judgements and she must simply live with them. She has never cared much for what others might say to her, of course, or what they might think of her - since she had been in isolation for too long to want to care - but here... It was different. She was in close company with those that might hurt or control her, and she must be wary of it.

Shaking her head, she turns to stare at Meg again. ]

It is more to me. I do not know if it is the same in other worlds.

[ Shifting, Lauralae tightens her robe around herself, uncertain if she ought to say more or not - perhaps this demon does wish to know out of idle curiosity, perhaps it is more. She cannot tell. ]

[even if Meg wanted to, she wouldn't be able to. The unfortunate side effect of many supernatural creatures being adverse to salt meant she couldn't do a thing, lest she accidentally harm herself. And she'd never had a real problem with ghosts, anyway. Out of all of the creatures she's had run ins with, they were the least annoying. Probably because they were already dead.

That and the confirmation that is something different only fuels her curiosity a little more. But Meg knows that asking directly won't exactly get her an answer; it might, they've both been pretty forthcoming, and the girl didn't seem repulsed by what she was, either.

So she hums a little, weight shifting to one leg]

I figured, you don't feel very ghost-like. [she smirks, lips quirking up in the corner] They're a rare kind of ghost where I'm from - passes for human, more or less, can't do all the ghosty bullshit, but they're harder to kill and they're bond to earth until they finish whatever's keeping them there.

Or at least, that's what I picked up from my hunters.

[ It's strange, for Lauralae to admit things aloud so easily - she had been broken when Cole had told her of her own nature, had been shattered and afraid until Leto had come to calm her, and now she stands tall trying to accept herself for what she is, attempting to bask in it and feel pride instead of shame. It explains things, yes, but it makes her all the more of an outsider - and it makes her realise her judgements of the past were made in haste, and she should rethink the hatred and pride she had felt for so many years.

At least she can be forthcoming and honest, as she has always been. What she had said before in her ignorance could not be held against her, and she has to bask in that if nothing else; if she didn't then she would fall apart and feel foolish, ashamed of herself for things she could not possibly have known. ]

It is not so in my world. They are borne of the Gods, a blessing of sorts given from Sidra, a blessing that is shamed in the eyes of his mother, Phaera. Sidra is Birther of the Undead and Prince of Hellions, and it is he that created Revenants; undead creatures that appear as any living being, but they must feast upon those that share their likeness. Dead flesh is all that feeds them, and they are granted immortality and the ability to steal other powers in exchange.

[interesting. Meg listens intently to the explanation, and it sounds a little like demons and a lot like something else entirely. Idly, she wonders how her hunters would feel about that; if they'd consider this girl as evil as Meg was or better, or maybe even worse. She wasn't a threat, so it was hard to gauge how they'd react.

And then she quietly scolds herself for even caring. Ugh, but she was doing that a little more lately.

She hums in understanding and frees a hand to gesture as she talks]

It sounds like a fun time. [it's hard to tell if her tone is serious or sarcastic] We have the undead, sometimes, but beyond that your Revenants sound pretty unique. But your Sidra sounds similar to Lucifer, at least in the whole - creating things and being a prince of sorts.

[ There's always been an idle knowledge that there will be people aboard the fleet that will fear and loathe her - she is a monster in the eyes of most humans, especially those that have not encountered magics before now. She has cursed hands and a desire to eat raw flesh that will never fade, no matter how much she refuses to give into it, and she knows that there are people that seek to end her kin. There are those that make a living on her death, but that would be their mistake: she cannot die. She would return and they would hate her all the more for it.

She is not a threat. She simply wishes to live, to learn, to grow, to understand herself.

If only she had known that before now. ]

I am not sure if 'fun' is the correct term. [ And Lauralae has always been terrible with sarcasm, far too literal for her own good. ] Sidra is the master of the undead, and if it is the same... Then perhaps Lucifer is your world's version of my lord.

[Meg knows for a fact that, besides the Winchesters, there's others who will take one look at her and know, and hate, and maybe even wish to kill her. And honestly, it's normal to her. She's a demon, after all, and should someone ever welcome her with open arms, someone outside of her kin, she'd seriously wonder about their mental state. Even if she's behaving and avoiding trouble, she's bad news and objectively, she knows that no one should even bother with her.

But that's boring, and even if she has a built-in desire to to maim and torture and kill, she also has a desire to socialize. To find - friends isn't a word she would use, not without a heavy dose of sarcasm. She isn't sure what the word would be, and she'd sooner kill herself before using the word openly and honestly.

Ah, but the girl is certainly bad at humor and sarcasm. Meg smiles, slow and amused]

It's sarcasm, sweetie. [she says it patiently; she's certainly used to her sarcasm and jokes flying over someone else's head. A certain angel who took things far too literally comes to mind and her smile widens, just a bit]

I don't know if Lucifer can control the undead, per say, but he was the king of Hell - our underworld. [one of those words have to be familiar] He created us.

[ It's true for Lauralae, too; had she not lived with someone who had seen her and killed her in cold blood. She knows that there are dozens, if not hundreds, on this planet that might wish to see her die, as if she had chosen this life, as if she had been born into it - but she hadn't. She had been a child, she had made a mistake, and she had lost everything as a result. Would they take her life from her, too? Would they destroy everything she had worked hard to gain? It shatters her a little, and she has to force herself to tilt her head up, to steel, to bind herself together as hard as concrete.

She will be stronger than this.

It's sarcasm- that again. Lauralae frowns, her lips turning down as she shifts back, angling herself away from Meg. She's too literal for this world, she can see it already, for when people speak she takes them at their word, not some hiding meaning behind each whisper. She's a stranger to sarcasm, to the humour of it, and it frustrates her, to be embarrassed so easily, to have her confidence poked at as she tries to adjust to what it means. One day, perhaps, she will understand it herself, wield it as a weapon, but until then she will just have to make do. ] I see.

[ Her frown deepens even as Meg's smile gets bigger, and she shifts, awkward. ]

He is the Father. Not much else is known how the undead came to be, but he is the Lord and Master and bore them with his own hands. What magicks he used are his to know, though many have sought to ask. He has control through love, through devotion, through promises... That is why he is worshipped.

[the frown only makes her smile widen. Not in a particularly mean way, just amused. Were it anyone else it'd be different, but her interest in this girl is too great for her to go and be an asshole. At least, not yet]

I'll try to lay off for a bit. It's practically a language barrier for you types.

[the overly polite cinnamon roll types, at least. She relaxes, though, as the girl shifts, as casual as can be considering the topic at hand. But it's hard not to be; she was as much a part of the darkness than any other supernatural creature, and it was where she thrived. Sure, it'd been a while, and she'd been playing for the good guys, more or less, but it wasn't where she belonged. It was mostly out of self-preservation, that she kept that alliance here.

Mostly]

That sure sounds like dear ol' dad. [she murmurs it, but it's loud enough for Lauralae to hear] More or less, anyway.

[ It's not the first time that Lauralae has encountered someone that seems to enjoy heavy sarcasm, and she watches Meg for a long moment, gazing at her, before she finally manages a nod. It's something she's going to have to put time into learning, it seems, and somehow she's going to have to manage that. ]

I have simply not encountered it often. It is not used as it is here in my world.

[ But, really, it's more because Lauralae doesn't actually talk to anyone in her own world; she just dealt with it and moved along. She's changed so much in this world simply because she has been forced to talk to others, to see them and investigate them, and she knows it's reshaped how she handles things and how she reacts to people. A few months ago she would never have allowed herself to be taken to one side with a stranger, even if she recognised something that they shared.

Lauralae is not the woman she had been before Cole had revealed things to her, and a quiet part of her is glad for it. ]

Perhaps they are the same creature with different names. It would not be so odd for worlds to share this kind of being, certainly if there are demons or the undead.

I know someone back home who isn't used to it either. [it's the closest she'll get to speaking about the angel, though names aren't going to happen. Admitting her fondness is a step past what she allows herself in the first place] You pick up on it, sooner or later. Just don't take everything as literally as you do and you're golden.

[or surround yourself with Winchesters, but even on a good day Meg wouldn't go as far as to recommend that. They were magnets for trouble, and, as entertaining as it might be to watch them learn what Lauralae was, she wasn't about to put the girl into possible danger, either. She wasn't that much of a bitch]

It wouldn't surprise me. Dad has a bunch of names already, so a few more wouldn't be that strange. [a shrug] From my understanding of all the different places here, I wouldn't be surprised.

It will take time to undo what I have known for nearly a century. [ But she might as well try. Lauralae had been raised in a world that had been entirely honest - elves were not prone to lying, there had been little point - and she had not experienced many people trying to use sarcasm to win her over or push her away. Isolation did that and it had simply been something she allowed herself to continue to live with.

She may as well try to change more. Leto had suggested it and... She was making the attempt. ]

It would not shock me. Gods are more powerful than mortals consider them to be - why would that change between worlds? If they did not exist then something ought to take their place. There would be magic missing from all realms were it not so, and nothing is as simple as that.

[ Which seems logical to her, but perhaps she is reaching. ]

He is your father as my Lord is mine. [ Hesitating for a moment, she turns her gaze down, almost shy. ] We are near kin.

Rome wasn't built in a day. [does she know what Rome is? Meg pauses, thoughtful] Mmm, in other words, it takes time. The guy I know was getting better at it, last I saw him, but he still has his moments.

[she doesn't know much about gods, though. Lucifer wasn't one, for all that he wanted to be God, and the one that was supposed to be in charge was either dead or MIA, last she heard. That or he just stopped giving a damn, but regardless her focus had been elsewhere. That kind of gossip is what she heard through the grapevine]

Oh, I know. Dad's a bit . . . preoccupied as of late. [what a nice way to say imprisoned] So some douche took over for him. Hell isn't the most organized of places, but someone has to be in charge or nobody knows their head from their ass.

[still, the thought of Crowley in charge makes her blood boil. Lucifer should be in his place, ruling as he always had. But she shakes it off - who knew where things stood back home anymore. She'd been dead for years]

I suppose, in a way we are. [what a cute little thing to point out. The smile isn't a half-smirk or amused this time, but as close to genuine as Meg can get] Close enough, at least.

[ Lauralae had been moments away from interjecting that she didn't know what Rome was, but then Meg explains the metaphor and she settles down. She's glad, at least, that Meg is beginning to explain things to her because it makes things easier. She takes much at face value, and it's likely to get her into some more awkward situations before she's finally wrapped her mind around it all. ] Then I shall get better at it as well. It is simple.

[ Because it is simple, at least to her. She had trained herself to be good at poisons, to become an expert in blood magic, to use her skills to earn coin and survive being alone with no friends and family - why not become good at some idle version of speech as well, especially since it seemed most people were capable of it? ]

My Lord does not often speak to those on our realm. He is the master of the Undead and the father of all things - I think he must be busy managing that with his mother at his side. [ So many people die and are reborn in the world - why would a God not be busy? It's not something she's thought about before, and she hesitates for a moment before she turns back to look at Meg.

There's something a little awkward in Lauralae as she nods her head, shifting from one foot to the other. Then she glances up, watching Meg, hesitating before she speaks. ]

Then we shall be kin.

[it really is like dealing with Castiel. A smaller, female, dark version of him, anyway. Maybe that's part of why she's bothered to stick around to get to know her better. It's strange, because it comes with a feeling she's pretty sure she isn't supposed to capable of feeling, and yet there it is. An echo of a humanity long since disappeared. Fondness was one thing, but it was never simple when it came to that angel.

Damn pizza metaphors] It is simple. You'll get the hang of it.

[she listens and here's where the similarities end, she thinks. She'd been fortunate - lucky - enough to speak with Lucifer face to face, been close enough to bask in his presence. She looked up to him the same as she looked up to Azazel, another demon she had called "father", and his simple praises had been more than enough.

It wasn't often, but she did have to wonder if Lucifer may have succeeded, had she not been taken out the way she had been. Burned terribly from holy fire and left to the sidelines to watch, as the Winchesters somehow stupid their way to ending the apocalypse. But it was so long ago, even in the human sense of time, that it was more of an idle thought than a longing to change the past]

Lucifer didn't speak much to us, either. There's a hierarchy of sorts. [she makes a gesture with her hand] Demons more powerful than me, more demons more powerful than them. I didn't get to speak to him until he was finally able to walk the earth.

[there's a pause, and then a bit dryly, tinged with bitterness] The current king likes to walk around all the time, though. I've seen his ugly face more times than I care to.

[she hadn't been to Hell since Lucifer was locked away, but she imagines it's more of a shithole than ever. None of the charm Lucifer had to it at all]

So we will. [she likes the idea of that; it means she has an ally, someone she can put some amount of trust into. A wary trust - she was no fool - but something all the same. It meant she wasn't completely alone her, with only Sam to depend on]

Try Catching Flootemon with your Communicator!

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