Jan. 19th, 2010

[identity profile] noshoesinhell8.livejournal.com
~Lilah Morgan freezes on the precipice. This is hardly the Yellow Brick Road, she realizes, and yet she can't quite curb the enthusiasm she feels looking down at the city of Dis. She's not quite sure how she made it; when she heard the demon cops on 8 she panicked and, throwing out all reason, she grabbed the nearest person and ran. When she dared open her eyes, she found she had grabbed not one of the boys who seemed so knowledgeable, so helpful, so USEFULL, but the puffed up Pretty Princess stuck in the 13th century who (rich duds aside) didn't look so very usefull or even all that sane. (The way she prattled on she sounded like one of those Renaissance Faire losers.)

Still, it was a fabled flight through 8, and somehow Lilah had chosen to run in the right direction. They enterred 7 and Lilah might have been convinced to stay there a little longer if she wasn't allergic to bees. All that crap, though; she couldn't help but think there might be something useful there. The anoerexic bitch told her 7 was where the angry people buzzed about and insisted they not stay, and anyway, Lilah thought it might be a little dangerous to be climbing mounds of sharp pointy things once it became clear neither one of them seemed to be in much control of their extremities. But when they neared the edge of the mountains of garbage which marred 7's otherwhise almost hellishly pleasant horizon, Miss Medieval Europe slowed and began bitching about not wanting to enter Hell's capital city.~


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