matri | (no subject)

She had been curled up in her bed, reading a Chuck Palahniuk book that was gathering dust on her stand. Gerry is very vulnerable at the second. She is only wearing a pair of shorts and a ratty t-shirt. At the voice, she springs up from the bed. The intention is to Jump to her big wall of weapons, but something blocks her. After getting a look at the girl, who couldn't be any older than herself, Gerry decides to risk her chances with the knife she keeps under her pillow. She lashes out, the blade glinting in the light.

Such hostility! All the time. But hey, go ahead, it's just a little knife. Gerry can sink it in wherever she likes, and Eve? Not even a flinch. She just carries on, looking at the posters, pictures, drawings and sketches, mutely fascinated.

"Not very inviting, are you?"

She sinks the knife right in the center of the girl's chest. The stranger doesn't so much as blink. Gerry's eyes widen as far as they possibly can, giving her a look even crazier than usual. She pulls it out again and walks backward until she hits one of her computer desks. Is she dreaming? Did she finally snap? "What the fuck." It's not even a question, but a statement on absurdity of the situation. "Is there... a reason I should be inviting?"

There isn't even a blood stain. Just a sliced night gown and a puckered bit of healing skin. Gerry won't see it, but the little threads of black 'sewing' the flesh back together... well. She isn't seeing it.

"I'm here to visit. Why shouldn't you be?" Now she turns to the blonde girl, expression vaguely curious. "You're not like the rest of God's little infants, are you? Well-" She muses, stepping closer. "You are, just ... tweaked."

"Because people don't visit me." In another time, Gerry might have realized how that verged on being pathetic. She doesn't notice at the moment, not with the freak in her Lair. On instinct, she draws into herself when the girl mentions God. That never bodes well for her. Then, Gerry raises her chin defiantly. "I'm not God's little anything."

Again she strikes, attempting to rip the girl's flesh from shoulder to shoulder. Gerry wants a peek inside. This thing, whatever it is, is blocking her Jumps. It could be some kind of new Paladin technology.

That just happens to like it wandered out of a really skeevy porno.

You know, Gerry. When you rip a knife across someone's shoulders, when all she's wearing is a strappy nightgown, that nightgown is going to fall right off. At least you'll get to see the slice of skin, black where red should be, almost hissing... and not a single drop of blood. Like drained, post-mortem. She thinks it's pretty, if not annoying. Now she simply sighs. Sighs like she's dealing with a particularly petulant child.

"Oh you're one of His things alright. I certainly didn't make you. You're human as they come." Does she sound bored and just a little bit motherish? Sure. "And to ease your questioning mind; your Paladins have nothing to do with me, nor I them. You're all just God's mis-lead children, running in circles with your heads cut off. It's no bother of mine."

She does however, step closer to the blonde, regardless of where they'd both been at this point. "But you are precious. Forcing your own path in life, regardless of His lack of path. And chaotic all the way."