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entrancelogs2016-02-20 08:18 pm
lovestheimpala) wrote in entrancelogs2016-02-20 08:18 pm
come on, baby
Who: Dean Winchester ( & whoever wants a slice of this pie)
Where: Outside. Hallways. Bar.
When: Feb. 20th
Rating: PG13 at least.
Summary: Dean discovers a different dimension.
The Story:
i. outside
It’s less than a blink of an eye. A split second where he’s not fully paying attention to life around him. That’s all it takes for it to vanish and leave him standing alone. He blinks. Once. Twice. Just to make sure that his brain isn’t flipping out on him.Again.
He’s pretty sure he’s not hallucinating, though. The handle of the Scythe still in his hands feels too solid. His grip tightens around it until splinters dig into his palms. No, this is definitely real.
For a second, he wonders if this is Death’s deal- But no. No, that doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t add up. He wasn’t gonna kill Sam. He wouldn’t have been strong enough to do that and even if he had… why would Death send him packing with his Scythe? If this was his doing, Dean was pretty freaking sure he’d want his toy back first. So this had to be something different. Something that derailed them and snagged either just him, or all three of them, and dumped them somewhere else.
Where though? Only one way to find out.
With the Scythe lifted high, Dean sets out to figure out where he is, and if he was the only one that Stargated out of that restaurant.
ii. hallways
“What the hell….?”
It’s not so much the actual grandeur of the place that has him just barely gaping when he first walks into the mansion, but rather that he can’t wrap his brain around why he would end up here. It can’t be a good thing. Last time he got zapped into a place that was all gold and art, and fancy like this… it was the angelic dicks wanting him to sit pretty until Michael wanted him to bend over. This place doesn’t quite reek of their arrogance, but the unsettling feeling that something pulled him out of his life to screw him over can’t be shaken.
So he walks around as quietly as he can, hoping that he can get a better feel of the place before he runs into anyone. He’s damn good at stealth when he needs to be, but it’s not always easy to sneak in shadows and stay hidden when you’re carrying around a weapon the size of a small human.
iii. bar
He’s tired. That’s an understatement.
It had been a shitty-as-all-hell week even before he got beamed up. So much crap dumped on him all in such a few days (some of it even by his own hands) and Dean hadn’t had a moment to stop and let it sink in. And this BS happened. Desperate to get a moment to let all of this… Dean needs a drink. Simple as that, and he dumps the scythe into one of the empty rooms so he isn’t walking around looking like he’s here to freaking reap people. From that it’s a bee line to the bar. Thank God this place has a bar.
He walks in with his head down, not stopping until he can park his ass on one of the stools. He needs there to be no more than just the bottom of his glass tonight. “Gimme a shot. And a beer.”
Where: Outside. Hallways. Bar.
When: Feb. 20th
Rating: PG13 at least.
Summary: Dean discovers a different dimension.
The Story:
i. outside
It’s less than a blink of an eye. A split second where he’s not fully paying attention to life around him. That’s all it takes for it to vanish and leave him standing alone. He blinks. Once. Twice. Just to make sure that his brain isn’t flipping out on him.
He’s pretty sure he’s not hallucinating, though. The handle of the Scythe still in his hands feels too solid. His grip tightens around it until splinters dig into his palms. No, this is definitely real.
For a second, he wonders if this is Death’s deal- But no. No, that doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t add up. He wasn’t gonna kill Sam. He wouldn’t have been strong enough to do that and even if he had… why would Death send him packing with his Scythe? If this was his doing, Dean was pretty freaking sure he’d want his toy back first. So this had to be something different. Something that derailed them and snagged either just him, or all three of them, and dumped them somewhere else.
Where though? Only one way to find out.
With the Scythe lifted high, Dean sets out to figure out where he is, and if he was the only one that Stargated out of that restaurant.
ii. hallways
“What the hell….?”
It’s not so much the actual grandeur of the place that has him just barely gaping when he first walks into the mansion, but rather that he can’t wrap his brain around why he would end up here. It can’t be a good thing. Last time he got zapped into a place that was all gold and art, and fancy like this… it was the angelic dicks wanting him to sit pretty until Michael wanted him to bend over. This place doesn’t quite reek of their arrogance, but the unsettling feeling that something pulled him out of his life to screw him over can’t be shaken.
So he walks around as quietly as he can, hoping that he can get a better feel of the place before he runs into anyone. He’s damn good at stealth when he needs to be, but it’s not always easy to sneak in shadows and stay hidden when you’re carrying around a weapon the size of a small human.
iii. bar
He’s tired. That’s an understatement.
It had been a shitty-as-all-hell week even before he got beamed up. So much crap dumped on him all in such a few days (some of it even by his own hands) and Dean hadn’t had a moment to stop and let it sink in. And this BS happened. Desperate to get a moment to let all of this… Dean needs a drink. Simple as that, and he dumps the scythe into one of the empty rooms so he isn’t walking around looking like he’s here to freaking reap people. From that it’s a bee line to the bar. Thank God this place has a bar.
He walks in with his head down, not stopping until he can park his ass on one of the stools. He needs there to be no more than just the bottom of his glass tonight. “Gimme a shot. And a beer.”
no subject
But what she said is... a bit, sloppy mess of a problem. It's like finding out that Heaven keeps spitting out Sam and him when they die. Just the thought of having part of his life that he can't remember... it's unsettling. Especially when people seem to remember him.
He doesn't even want to think too much about what he might have done last time he was here, but he can't avoid asking a few questions. "So. You and me- past me- we were... what exactly?"
Now he's assuming he never hooked up with her because he hasn't been slapped yet, but that's no guarantee either.
no subject
Genuinely surprised by the question - she hadn't anticipated it for weeks, at the very least - she shifts the books in her arms and considers. Having already plainly stated their status as friends it appears that he is asking, in the most civil of ways, whether or not they have come to Biblically know each other and in what way. It is a complicated query to answer if only because for some time Evelyn regarded him as both a nuisance and a simpleton, casually wandering into the library to pester her, flirting incessantly.
He helped her through the devastation of a betrayal, supported her during a recovery, held her after her death. These memories are more precious and trump the shadow of what the Mark made him do to her on a dark night in April of last year.
Intimacy has brighter connotations.
"I don't...really know how to put it into words," Evelyn admits, with no small amount of dismay. "We had a very strong rapport, I think you-"
...No, she knew he did. Evelyn steels herself and continues.
"We spent a lot of time together. I don't want to trouble you with details - not...not here, not now - unless you absolutely must know, but we were very close."
no subject
There's no way he's letting that one go. The rest can wait, depending on how she answers that, but that one needs answering now.
no subject
"No," she replies firmly, holding her ground. More terrifying men have wielded blades over her in the past.
"It isn't important."
no subject
"So we did screw around, huh? Well, I'm sorry, sweetheart. I wish I could say I remember, but even without the memory crap bullcrap that's going on here... all you chicks kinda blend together anyway. Not that I'm not sure it wasn't great. I've got a knack for picking the good talent, you know?"
no subject
Evelyn laughs right back, something resembling incredulity colouring her tone. Unbelievable. This next movement in the symphony of comedic errors is titled: So Important That Evelyn Actually Turns to Set Her Stack of Books Down on The Nearest Side Table.
"Oh, I'm sorry. You think that we had sex. Blessedly we didn't, but I'm fairly certain you were in love with me."
no subject
"Yeah, you do strike me as the kinda girl that would need me to make you think I loved you."
1/???
"It's sweet that you need to reassure yourself of that thing you call 'charm,' but I've been happily married for nine years."
Evelyn turns and, with all the dignity of royalty, collects her papers, her books, and a fraction of her pride. "Enjoy your stay in Wonderland," she states brusquely, before an afterthought strikes her and makes itself known.
2/3
no subject
no subject