Dean Winchester (
kickingand) wrote in
driftfleet2016-04-01 06:06 pm
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. ]
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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What was going on back home?
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The end of days.
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So end of days like civilization collapsed? War on a massive scale?
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But yeah no, try the Apocalypse.
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I'm guessing you don't mean the powerful, immortal mutant by that name, trying to show survival of the fittest by wiping out humans.
General? Literally Biblical?
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The mutant?
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And you've got one goes by Apocalypse.
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I've been fighting against him since I was thirteen. Until I got pulled out anyway.
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And what, he's doing it for shits and giggles?
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He talks about survival of the fittest a lot. Kind of a trial by fire for everyone. No idea what made him this way. Maybe immortality made him lose his mind.
I don't know. I don't even think I care. I just want him very dead which...according to someone from home from a year in the future he is. So, there's that. [Not something she'll ever see or could have been a part of, but it happened and that's enough.]
What about your world? What are you up against?
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Lucifer.
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But she isn't going to lose a moment of sleep over the thought of killing Apocalypse.]
As in the devil?
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Dean doesn't hesitate though, just volleys his reply right back. ]
The one and only.
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You were opposing him?
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Five years.
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Long time for something like that. Hard to adjust to...not that. [She didn't handle her first months at the prison well. It's still not smooth sailing all the way.]
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I could get used to running water again. [ Liar. ]
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The food even on the regular ships might still be a step up for you. Still, you'll want to just grab everything you can get on the Marsiva and stuff your pockets just in case. [The prison could not have spoiled her for food more, but if she'd arrived directly here after home she wouldn't have blinked at eating flavored gels.]
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Except here, apparently they already are. ]
Don't exactly have big enough pockets to bring everyone lunch.
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Besides, the moon we're at now doesn't have much in the way of food, but the station we were at before had plenty. I'm sure people stocked up as much as they could. [She did for her ship.]
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