(no subject)

[sworntoalostgod.livejournal.com]

After the meeting, Oliver finds himself increasingly torn between picking up his horse and driving his van off into the sunset, in a mad attempt to fulfill God's mission or die trying. And sometimes he decides to set questions of faithfulness aside and help out around the Cooper farm. He's in that particular mood right now.

He's setting a Ward around the hospital right now, and will do the earth bunker once he's done. He walks, one foot after the other, head bowed, murmuring prayers in a language that sounds like Latin. These Wards are the 'nicest' type any Godsworn can produce: they merely force a beast-skin into their animal form rather than, say, shredding skin from bone.

Comments

[truth-sometimes.livejournal.com]

"For some value of 'lucky', sure."

Grin.

"It's got an office with a wheely chair, so I'm happy as a pig in shit."

[sworntoalostgod.livejournal.com]

Oliver valiantly fights down the twitch at the crude language. It has been some time since he's heard such low talk.

Faint smile. "Wonderful."

Then face of seriouness. "I've set Wards around the place; it should be of utterly no importance to anyone not demonic."

Just so you know Oliver's been messing around on your property and all.

[truth-sometimes.livejournal.com]

"And in people who are demonic, what kinds of fun symptoms is it going to produce?"

[sworntoalostgod.livejournal.com]

"Change them into their animal form."

[truth-sometimes.livejournal.com]

House has no comment on this, so he just leans back in the window.

Rude bastard.

[sworntoalostgod.livejournal.com]

Yeah, Oliver's just going to walk over to the bunker then.