driftfleet | into the distance a ribbon of black

Entry tags:

into the distance a ribbon of black

Who: Dean Winchester (AU) & anyone willing to put up with him
Broadcast: fleetwide video
Action: the marsiva if anyone wants!
When: RIGHT NOW

[ There is something to be said for the few seconds before truly waking up, when everything is fuzzy and safe and nothing matters as much as it did the night before. But that moment tends to get shot in the foot pretty damn fast, especially when Dean is prone to waking up with a rush of adrenaline. Made infinitely worse by the realization that a) he does not know where he is and b) the automatic grab for the weaponry usually confined to his body results in nothing. Nada. His pistol is nowhere to be found, the blade in his jacket is missing, and no amount of grappling about solves that problem. And while he finds the comm device it only annoys him further because it's not his damn gun.

Which is right around the instant Dean shoves himself off the bed and shouts near as loud as he can manage- ] The hell is this! [ Followed with some more grumbling. ] Be better if I asked which Hell is this.. swear to God, this shit never gets any better.

[ It’s too echoey, too sterile, and the immediate need for answers is almost overpowering. He doesn’t give two shits about looking himself over, pushes aside thoughts of the last image that flashes across his mind, and instead gives one more look around the bed he woke in to try and find his weaponry because fuck this shit. Why he’s unarmed is of particular concern and a vast amount of silent panic, but he doesn’t want to stand here and leave himself open to anything either. Which implies moving, something that takes only another second to decide upon.

Not that he’s going to be going far…

No, after a brief stint of stealthy meandering, Dean manages to find himself striding down towards the medical wing because why the hell not. Where it’s near impossible to resist the urge to start rifling through just about everything he can get his hands on. Because Dean Winchester is a Class Act. And because living through the apocalypse tends to make one appreciate medical supplies, especially when you're inclined to... start shit. ]

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Whoa — Hey, man. Guess they caught you at a bad time.

[But then, the last time Dean arrived, they got into a fight and Dean fist-fought... and took apart part of the Marsiva wall... Alright, so Dean is 0 for 50 now. He puts his hands up, smiling crookedly, almost a wince. He's glad to see Dean, though. Really, really glad, especially since the last time he saw him might very well be the last.

He should probably - warn him about Lucifer back home, huh?

Baby steps.]

You alright?

[ And there it goes. Shit just hit the fan.

Dean's not altogether sure if it would've been easier if the last thing he'd heard hadn't been-- no, alright, he isn't going there. But it's been five years since the last time, five damn long years and Dean is in no way prepared for this. He wouldn't have been prepared for this back home, but here it's somehow even worse. Out of his element and entirely unprepared, it's all Dean can do to keep from breaking his device in an instant.

You are the very last thing he wanted to see. Thing. Not human. Not when he doesn't hear anything Sam just said because of the simple fact that all he sees is Lucifer. That's all he's been for five years, is Lucifer, and that's not going to change in the next second. ]

Where are you.

[ That's a totally legit question, right? Though that tone he's using might be a touch brusque. ]

[... That is ominous.

But -- it's his brother, you know. There's always a reason for the rough tone. Sam probably did something to piss him off, or Dean's had a rough time back home, or he's got... something shitty to lay on Sam, some kind of bad new update from home that'll get them both quiet and drinking. He's way, way too used to it out here. Oblivious, he frowns, looking concerned.]

I'm on my ship; the Red Fish.

But you're not going to be able to leave the Marsiva until you get shuffled onto your own ship. You remember the last time, or...? Actually, no, I'm pretty sure you don't remember. Relax there. We've got time.

[ Ohhhh, those are not words he wanted to hear. Dean drags a hand down his face, palm pressed to his mouth for a good few seconds because attempting to not fly off the handle is a skill he has perfected..... okay, that's a great big lie. But he can tolerate his own rage for a little big longer at least, just staring, trying to figure out what rationale Lucifer would have for lying about who he is.

Not like he's ever tried to understand him before, though. Waste of time. Nah, Dean would really just like to find you now so he can try to kill you all over again. This is his second. chance. ]

Relaxing isn't gonna be a thing that's happening.

[Sam sighs.]

Yeah, well, it's kinda all you're gonna have going for you for a little while. Cas is here, too -- he's, uh. A little... different than usual. But he's good. He'll... probably explain it better than I can.

[How do you even begin to explain that alternative?

It's fucking miserable, is what it is, and it makes Sam's stomach churn.]

Meanwhile... I'm pretty sure we've been... kidnapped by aliens?

Or that's a simpler way of putting it.

Guess we should have never doubted Mulder.

Edited 2016-04-01 23:35 (UTC)

[ He's just going to keep letting you chatter on while he stares. Because Dean's gotten really good at that, and because he has nothing much of interest to say about anything. That and he's trying to decide what to do to Lucifer at the first opportunity that arises. ]

Aliens, huh.

[ What a conversationalist! But no really, Lucifer could probably say anything at this point, and Dean would still be seeing red. ] And you- just been what, biding time?

Biding... [He stops, squints, and then looks tired, rubbing a hand over his face. He really hopes Dean isn't about to jump on his ass about not working on an exit with all his heart and soul. He's got more problems to think about, don't add more, man.] Biding time's a way to put it. Look... there's not exactly a clear escape route yet, but I've been looking into all the libraries I can for anything. Rituals, spell-work, anything that'll get us back into our worlds.

So far, a whole lot of nothing.

It'll be fine. We'll figure it out, right? We always do.

[ Oh, he's planning on adding a whole hell of a lot more, all things considered. Though, what he still doesn't get, is why Lucifer's playing some weird game with this. Sam's never been something he tried to pretend to be - at least as far as he always knew - and the most he can figure is that he's waiting for something. Some reason to go full tilt. And whatever that reason is, it hasn't happened yet.

But it will. And now he gets to be here to watch it happen all over again.

Which really only elicits a rather sick feeling, and Dean stares off at nothing in particular for a second because hoo boy he is going to lose his shit. He's gotten rather fond of being level headed in front of everyone else, he really doesn't want that to change. ]

No, we really don't.

[... Ah. Sam thins his lips, crinkles his brow.]

Dean. What's wrong?

[Memory serves him well enough -- I just don't believe.

Or is it lately?

You left me to die for a girl?!

God, it could be the Mark.

It should be you up there.

He's so fucking stupid. He bites the bullet, and dives headfirst:]

Did something happen back home? When are you from?

[ Does he have to answer that. Does he? Because he'd prefer not to just for the sake of being a pain. That and he doesn't really like talking about himself, but that's neither here nor there.

It's sort of amazing that he hasn't walked away from this conversation in the first place. Except that's an impossibility when Sam's face is only something he relates to Lucifer now. Which means he doesn't get to let it up and walk away.

And if he does, it'll only be that much more his fault. ]

How long are we gonna play this game.

[The hair on his neck prickles.

Something's not right, that much is obvious.]

I'm not playing any games. What's with you?

What'd I do to piss you off, back home? I know I've got a long enough list.

[ He so does not like doing this over a television screen.

Probably because the inclination to throttle Lucifer is a little overpowering and he can't do it when he's so damn far away. This is the first time he's probably ever found himself hating something akin to a cell phone connection but by god, he's going to flip a table. ]

How about we go over that in person. [ Can't you just spontaneously appear before him? Can't you please? ]

[This feels really friggin bad, man.

He holds up his hands in surrender.]

What, when I click my heels together...?

You can't just talk to me? I can make the line private if you want.

[He looks worried, because he fucking is.]

[ Yup. Just, y'know, zap yourself here. Showdown of the century...!! not so much.

But Dean can dream despite how he never does anymore, folding his arms over his chest with the intention of trying to keep himself contained. ]

Sure. Make it private. Why the hell not.

video.

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