Lilah for blissful_life Post NFA
I wanted to die again when I saw what happened to Wes. Of all the people that he ran with, he deserved to be laying on a cold floor bleeding out the least. And that stupid blue bitch just left him there, not even realizing that he still had a little life left. I suppose that being a god doesn't exactly teach you to check for vital signs.
Even in my little spot in hell, I could see that he was still alive. I just remember having an honest to go...whatever freak out that he was dying. Not sure what I said to convince the higher ups to let me out of there. They hadn't done so since I got all of them to start working with the firm. Somehow, I got back up there, though. I ran into Vail's place and got him the hell out of there, just repeating to him that everything was going to be OK. I just wanted him to live. I think he might have even woke up at one point and looked at me.
I left him at the hospital. How would he react if he learned that Lilah Morgan was the one that saved him instead of one of his own friends? I didn't go back, though. I couldn't. When I was alive, I swore up and down that I knew exactly what I was signing up for. If anyone else asked me now, I'd say that I was fine with my lot. I'm not, though. Being in hell isn't all that it's cracked up to be. I wasn't expecting it to be a bed of roses, but this just flat out sucked.
I tried to stay under the radar, but I knew they were looking for me. It would probably only be a matter of time before they found me and devised some creative punishment for running off like I did. There was someone I knew of that seemed to have evaded them, though.
The same man I dropped off at the hospital, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. He had settled in New Jersey under an assumed name. He was a pain in the ass to find, too. Luckily, I still had a few contacts that either weren't attached to the firm or could be paid off enough to not turn me in. Living the life of Arthur Channing, complete with a book store and a cat. I never would have pegged him to be a cat person. I prefer them to slobbering dogs, myself.
Right now I'd get down on my knees and beg Wes to tell me how he did it. For them to have not found him, he had to of done something. Maybe he could get rid of my contract. He tried to do it once, and I still remember how much it affected me that he went in to do it. Burning it won't do the trick, but maybe, now that he has time to research, he can find a way.
I made my way to his bookstore, stepping inside during a time when I saw that no one was in. I hope to whatever god that might listen to me that he can help me, or, even more, that he'll be willing to.
Even in my little spot in hell, I could see that he was still alive. I just remember having an honest to go...whatever freak out that he was dying. Not sure what I said to convince the higher ups to let me out of there. They hadn't done so since I got all of them to start working with the firm. Somehow, I got back up there, though. I ran into Vail's place and got him the hell out of there, just repeating to him that everything was going to be OK. I just wanted him to live. I think he might have even woke up at one point and looked at me.
I left him at the hospital. How would he react if he learned that Lilah Morgan was the one that saved him instead of one of his own friends? I didn't go back, though. I couldn't. When I was alive, I swore up and down that I knew exactly what I was signing up for. If anyone else asked me now, I'd say that I was fine with my lot. I'm not, though. Being in hell isn't all that it's cracked up to be. I wasn't expecting it to be a bed of roses, but this just flat out sucked.
I tried to stay under the radar, but I knew they were looking for me. It would probably only be a matter of time before they found me and devised some creative punishment for running off like I did. There was someone I knew of that seemed to have evaded them, though.
The same man I dropped off at the hospital, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. He had settled in New Jersey under an assumed name. He was a pain in the ass to find, too. Luckily, I still had a few contacts that either weren't attached to the firm or could be paid off enough to not turn me in. Living the life of Arthur Channing, complete with a book store and a cat. I never would have pegged him to be a cat person. I prefer them to slobbering dogs, myself.
Right now I'd get down on my knees and beg Wes to tell me how he did it. For them to have not found him, he had to of done something. Maybe he could get rid of my contract. He tried to do it once, and I still remember how much it affected me that he went in to do it. Burning it won't do the trick, but maybe, now that he has time to research, he can find a way.
I made my way to his bookstore, stepping inside during a time when I saw that no one was in. I hope to whatever god that might listen to me that he can help me, or, even more, that he'll be willing to.