Night 68: Main Hallway, 1-Center

[madeinthehrl]

[from here]

It was still early in the night from the looks of it--the main hallway was totally clear as they moved toward the Sun Room. It was true the route they were taking was normally guarded, but there was no guarantee the rec field wasn't, and with a group this large, they would stand a better chance at breaking through anything that might await them.

She glanced back at the group. "If there's someone in the Sun Room, try to focus on disabling the attacker and running. I don't want to get held up in a pointless fight."

Comments

[a_sin_for_him]

"Iron?"

Lust looked at Castiel in confusion before shaking her head. "No..." She didn't even have pockets. And then the spectre was suddenly before them and Lust clenched her hands into tight fists. She was so tired of this place playing with her, breaking her down.

And for no reason! It was all nothing but frustrating madness, building and building without end. It made her as angry as she had been earlier in the day, upon learning of the deaths that had come in the night. It was a sick, hot, fevered anger that threatened to override her reason if she wasn't careful.

"Just go away!"

[freewill]

Despite the ghost being out of the ordinary in other ways, it still behaved like one. Castiel didn't feel any cold spots, but the way that it disappeared and reappeared was similar to any other spirit.

No salt and no iron between them. Castiel thought he might have to make an effort to change that in the future. He'd need to start carrying it around like the Winchesters -- what a strange thought.

With no other option open to him, Castiel struck out at the spirit with his blade. It wasn't made of iron, but it was metal, and he could only hope it would disperse it for long enough that they could get away. "Stay back," he hissed at Lust. If this thing decided to do them harm, he'd rather take the damage.

[deathrattling]

Lust's cry of anger only served to tilt the boy's head a little to the right, stare as blank as ever, not even so much considering these new victims as it was just that: a stare. It encompassed them, read them into the blood that scripted the architecture of this space, but without emotion or consciousness.

It vanished as soon as Castiel swung, the entire image simply blinking out of visibility the moment blade touched skin, all that was left a distant yowl in a long range, octaves too low to be clear.

For that moment the stillness around them seemed to exhale, a breath of the Institute's normal nighttime noise: and then Lust was soaking wet from the head down, water plinking from her body. And filling her throat, her mouth, drowning her from the inside.