InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "HELLO"

Dean Winchester (hellsboy) wrote in mirage_rpg,
@ 2008-08-08 17:13:00

Entry tags:

arrival, complete, day 10, dean winchester, sam anders

Day 10: Enter Sandyman
Who: Dean Winchester & Sam Anders
When: About 4pm
What: Unceremonious Entry
Where: Somewhere sandy
Rating: PG-13ish
Status: Complete

The light was creeping shyly over the windowsill, little by little. Dean sat facing the approaching dawn, eyes blank and unfocused, a bottle in one hand resting on the edge of the nightstand. The golden liquid was beginning to catch the sunlight as it ventured further upward. If one had come upon him sitting frozen in thought, one might have thought he had fallen asleep sitting up, eyes open. Stranger things had happened in this world and he knew that. But sleep had not touched him all night long. Even the pint of José Cuervo he’d ingested had done nothing to drown him onto the dreamless sleep he’d wanted.

It had been a week since she had crushed him. For all his clever thinking and sincere desire not to lie to her, he had not been able to convince her he was serious. It surprised him still how easily she had eviscerated him. He knew he had been in love with her. She was the only girl for whom he had ever seriously considered leaving the hunting behind and settling down to their allotted 2.5 kids and white picket fence.

Now he was nowhere and he was actually fine with that. If only he could numb the dull ache he was trying to pretend didn’t exist. And he would’ve been successful at ignoring it if it weren’t for the fact there was nothing to do at the moment. There were no leads on the voodoo priestess he was tracking. If he was honest, there might have been leads but he had probably missed them. He was getting morose and this deep introspection was giving him a headache.

The bottle of liquor slid from his fingers, falling across the nightstand and startling him to attention. Immediately, instinctively, Dean was in a defensive stance, fists raised, his weight forward on the balls of his feet. His body had reacted faster than his mind and in the next second when his mind had caught up, he relaxed and rubbed his eyes. Shaking his head, shoulders slumped forward he growled at himself, "You're losing it, dude. Get a grip."

Unknotting the towel from around his waist, he cleaned up the liquor on the nightstand and picked up the bottle. With a firm resolve he pushed the lingering chick-flick broken-heartedness from his mind and, standing naked in front of the window, toasted the sun with a long swallow from the bottle. "Time to move."

And indeed he did move. Though not in any direction he was truly figuring on going. It felt more like his navel had been sucked inward and he'd turned several somersaults through whipped cream or perhaps stardust? The last thought on his mind was to grab at the pair of jeans on the side of the bed.

Which turned out to be a very excellent idea, all things considered. Planted face down in the sand, Dean turned his head to the side and coughed, sputtering as water flew into his nostrils and mouth. He couldn't open his eyes as sand pelted him in a whirlwind-like fashion convincing him once and for all he had found a portal to hell inside a hotel room. Dad had been on to something making him and Sam stay in them by themselves when they were young. He'd been avoiding being sucked into one himself in the middle of the night. And no hell would take children, would it?

Releasing the bottle of Cuervo and his jeans, he wiped his eyes and sat up, feeling the harsh sand on his bare buttocks and cussing under his breath. Since when did hell have sand? Carefully opening his eyes beneath the shield of his hand, Dean took a look around. No. Definitely not hell. But it was damn well hellish. Not to mention creepy as all get out that he was here now when moments ago he'd been in the hotel room.

"Oh wait," Dean groaned. "I must've had more than I thought. I'm never drinking again... well not this much at least."

Reaching for his pants, he attempted a one-legged shuffle to shimmy into them before anyone found him naked in the middle of a hurricane. That would be one story he'd rather keep for himself and not savor for posterior - er posterity.

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ex_samanders312
2008-08-09 02:52 pm UTC (link)

Sam woke up in goo. He didn't even really remember going to sleep, it was more like he plugged in and everything went white then red then black and eventually it all reversed. He felt better, if not rested, recharged almost healed. Nothing made much sense anymore. He brifly considered hunger but let the notion pass. The first thing he needed to do was to get back out on that beach and try to find a clue as to how he got here and how he was going to get back. Maybe someone else in his crew was here too. Maybe he'd find the ship, but it was probably way out in that ocean.

Anders zipped up his military issue flight suit, as he'd noted before it was great for flight not so awesome for rainstorms and body surfing but neither of those had been an issue in his recent space travels. They'd been lucky to find a planet with enough ice to melt down so they could keep showering.

His thick boots plodded out into the muddy sand, sucking each heavy step in a little more than stable ground should. He wouldnt admit he was a little paranoid that this 'thing' of a planet might suck him up whole at it's will. He was almost to the shore when he thought he saw someone in the distance. Part of him hoped it wasn't that Xena chick again, he got the feeling she'd like to kick his ass.

"Hey!" Anders called out into the storm that blurred his vision. "You alright?" He didn't start into a jog to give this .. guy? a hand, he figured it was best to proceed with caution, especially since he was effectivly disarmed at the moment. He walked closer at his normal pace.

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hellsboy
2008-08-11 12:02 pm UTC (link)

The sudden sound of a voice from within the insane weather startled Dean. Still struggling one-legged into his jeans he fell over into the wet sand with a thud and a loud cuss. This was going to be a very long day, he could tell. Pulling himself securely into his pants finally, dignity thrown to the wind as the wind was taking just about everything else with it at this point, Dean grumbled under his breath.

Shielding his eyes with one hand and brushing at the sand and water flecking his face, he tried to peer through the storm toward the sound of the approaching person who had called out to him. The voice had been torn by the wind and he wasn't sure if it was male, female or even a figment of his imagination. Still it was better than nothing in this place which looked less and less like hell in spite of the hellish conditions.

"Hey, where are you?" he called out and muttered to himself, "and where the hell am I?" His eyes stung of sand and saltwater as he stumbled through the whipping hurricane. Slowly he was able make out the shadow of a dark form somewhere in front of him. It seemed to be advancing and so he set his path, off balance due not just to the weather but to the affects of the tequila he'd ingested. Suddenly it was starting to take effect and he found himself giggling at the predicament he was in.

He made it most of the way to the approaching figure and tripped, falling into a heap of laughter at he/she/it(?)'s feet. Peeking up from between protective fingers, Dean took in the sight of Anders towering above him and said, "Dude, where are we? I need another drink. This is almost fun."