#12.31.16

Location: Streets of Los Angeles Date: December 31st, 2016 Availability: @posthumanchaos

After the almost comical series of unfortunate events at Advent Church, Magda was considering never leaving her apartment again. Everything was getting too weird. She couldn’t handle the idea that bodies and bombs were the new status quo. It was like accepting she’d be kidnapped again, or worse. And what was the point of it? If this was the Rapture, there was not much they could do about it—as evidenced by aforementioned dead bodies and bombs. Magda had half a mind to stay in—more than half a mind—and just binge watch the OA on Netflix and get high to enter 2017. There was a superstition that how you started the year set the tone for the year and she would love to instill the coming days with a sense of wonder and curiosity rather than havoc. And yet—she’d gotten a text around 9pm:

“you’re not really gonna spend new year’s eve in your apartment alone, are you? if you don’t mind leaving lasagna alone, there’s always the pier if you’re done being mad at me.”

Magda sighed and looked at the ceiling as she flopped backward onto her bed. She was in comfy clothes and wasn’t entirely sold on getting dolled up to go out to be in a throng of people—which was uncharacteristic of her, and that bothered her more. She didn’t want to lose herself to what Satan had done. She didn’t want him to win at dehumanizing her, making her less than herself. She probably would be handling bodies and bombs better if Satan hadn’t made everything so personal. The prophet was still pissed at Crowley for ignoring her, but at least she was trying to reach out now. And, grudgingly, now that Magda was calmer, she had to admit that it wasn’t like she had reached out to the demon, either—she had just assumed Crowley was done with her from her silence.

It was these feelings that made her write back, “why did you go quiet, anyway? back then.”