Dean Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dashboardlite) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2013-01-07 04:00 pm
dashboardlite) wrote in entrancelogs2013-01-07 04:00 pm
Entry tags:
Your Time is Gonna Come
Who: Dean Winchester, Philip LaFresque, Santana Lopez, & Castiel
Where: Cruisin' through the corridors.
When: Third day of the event.
Rating: M for (probable) graphic violence and a lot of swearing.
Summary: Dean and Phil go up the hill to hunt a couple monsters. Dean falls down and breaks his everything when Santana's Shadow eats him, and Philip and Castiel just aren't quick enough to save his life. (Quality avant-garde poetry right there.)
The Story:
The rain was pretty fuckin' miserable, to be honest. Dean's never liked the stuff, and the great swathe of fog that rolled in after it was so oppressive that he couldn't cut it with whiskey. (A damn shame, 'cause he's got some good whiskey.)
For two already-apathetic-about-life-the-universe-and-everything guys like Dean Winchester and Philip LaFresque - given what they've been through, can you blame them? - the anxiety doesn't grate. It barely pushes through their carefully cultivated poker faces, let alone incapacitates them.
And as a pair of fellows with drinking problems and backgrounds (more in Dean's case than Philip's) in the supernatural, they do the only sane thing in an insane world: start the hunt.
So the pair of them, not necessarily 'armed to the teeth' but certainly bearing weapons that may or may not make a dent in the local monster population, set off down the hallways. Intrepid explorers with a hankering for adventure, a couple of men who are tired and bored, or, alternately, a college dropout with anger issues and a telepathic former Physics professor.
Eh, take your pick.
Where: Cruisin' through the corridors.
When: Third day of the event.
Rating: M for (probable) graphic violence and a lot of swearing.
Summary: Dean and Phil go up the hill to hunt a couple monsters. Dean falls down and breaks his everything when Santana's Shadow eats him, and Philip and Castiel just aren't quick enough to save his life. (Quality avant-garde poetry right there.)
The Story:
The rain was pretty fuckin' miserable, to be honest. Dean's never liked the stuff, and the great swathe of fog that rolled in after it was so oppressive that he couldn't cut it with whiskey. (A damn shame, 'cause he's got some good whiskey.)
For two already-apathetic-about-life-the-universe-and-everything guys like Dean Winchester and Philip LaFresque - given what they've been through, can you blame them? - the anxiety doesn't grate. It barely pushes through their carefully cultivated poker faces, let alone incapacitates them.
And as a pair of fellows with drinking problems and backgrounds (more in Dean's case than Philip's) in the supernatural, they do the only sane thing in an insane world: start the hunt.
So the pair of them, not necessarily 'armed to the teeth' but certainly bearing weapons that may or may not make a dent in the local monster population, set off down the hallways. Intrepid explorers with a hankering for adventure, a couple of men who are tired and bored, or, alternately, a college dropout with anger issues and a telepathic former Physics professor.
Eh, take your pick.