After a group trip to Newcastle turned into a terrible tragedy resulting in the death of his adopted daughter Astra, Jeremy Finch thought that would be the last he'd ever hear about demons and black magic.
Discouraged, Jeremy and the group depart...
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If you asked a normal sentient being what the most ideal way to spend the weekend was, they might say 'staying home watching TV' or 'going out to party with friends.'
Groves would say 'chained to the cement floor surrounded by a steel cage, being interrogated by pissed off angels.' She was eccentric that way.
The glowing silver cuffs cut deep into her frail wrists, withdrawing ivory colored blood and leaving behind indigo bruises.
They were magically infused to keep her in check, see to it that she couldn't move too far out of line. The chains prohibited her from walking more than an inch.
Though, each time she so much as twitched pain was inflicted upon her from her tormentors.
Her vision would be tremendously obscured due to the salty holy water splashed in her face. It burned like acid.
Hot smoke sizzled and hissed off of her skin, as she let out agonizing cries, despite there being no logical explanation for the steam.
Groves forced her pained screams into a boisterous laugh, her drenched brown hair matting itself to the side of her rounded face.
Big brown eyes looked up at the angels with a hint of amusement and a bit of arousal. She let the smallest of smirks slowly fall upon her face. "This is fun."
Her voice held a mild rasp from the screams, but the malice and seduction she'd intended was still very much evident.
Any other creature might have been put off even a little, but the angels regarded her with a look of discontent spread across each of their faces.
They were assholes that way. Never effected by anything she did to intimidate them -- at least they never showed any of their unease.
The angels were there to get information from her, and they were determined to get it. Likewise, Groves was determined to keep them in the dark.
There was an evil crawling it's way right out from the pits of Hell. Groves knew, because she was the one who'd let it out. (She thought it'd be humorous to watch the humans tear each other apart trying to understand in their puny little minds.)
The angels, of course, couldn't have that. So, it was only natural that they capture her and, despite their unbelievably high moral standards, torture her until she squealed. (Joke was on them, really. She lived in Hell and endured pain everyday, so she reveled in it.)
In total, there were six of them, all of different shapes and sizes.
But the only one Groves particularly cared to acknowledge properly was the mild mannered one in the back.
