Remy LeBeau (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} ace_of_clubs) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} vas_captio_rpg,@ 2009-07-11 00:08:00 |
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| Entry tags: | !dropped, day 15, dean winchester, remy lebeau |
Who: Remy LeBeau And Dean Winchester
What: Food. Remy's starving. And he gets dramatic. No, really.
Where: The Clocktower, then the House
When: 12:00AM
Rating: Let's say R. For language.
Status: Dropped
It was like the arctic tundra outside! It was snowing, there was a blizzard, frozen people laying all around, it looked like the top of Mount Everest! Couldn't find your way to the clock tower through the blinding white-out? Well, just make a right hand turn at the frozen corpse-ciccle there, with the green boots on. Yeah, turn right there and take that path through the arctic wilderness to get to the clock tower. Oh, what's that? A polar bear? Don't worry about it! Maybe he'll eat the corpse-ciccle. Oh, God, there were penguins! And look! National Geographic camera men. It was another ice age! He could feel the stampede of wooly mammoths creeping up on him. He expected to be eaten by a saber-tooth cat at any moment, or maybe captured by cave men who were going to keep him as a trophy because of his lovely hair. Those cave-man bastards.
That was it. He wasn't going to make it all the way to the clock tower. He could see it there, clearly in the darkness, with the bright moonlight overhead. But he'd have to get through that huge mound of snow, first. He'd never make it. He was just going to curl up and die here. Others could use his frozen corpse as a marker now. 'Hey', they'd say, 'If you need to get to the clock tower, turn right at the guy with the green boots, and just go straight on by that hot, smoldering, sexy red-headed Cajun frozen in the ice not far from the clock tower, he didn't make it. Pussy.' That was what they'd say. And it was that thought that made the hot, smoldering, sexy red-headed Cajun push onward. He had to make it to the clock tower, no matter the frostbite in his fingers and his toes. His nose had rotted off long ago and there were ice ciccles in his hair, but he to push on!
Finally! Finally, he arrived at the clock tower with panting breaths. And there was Dean! But he was frozen! Gambit was too late!
"M' freezin' my ass off, homme." The Louisianan complained with a slow drawl, pushing his partially gloved hands deeper into his pockets. It was only forty-seven degrees outside and there was no snow.. but it didn't matter. It felt like an arctic tundra.
That was it. He wasn't going to make it all the way to the clock tower. He could see it there, clearly in the darkness, with the bright moonlight overhead. But he'd have to get through that huge mound of snow, first. He'd never make it. He was just going to curl up and die here. Others could use his frozen corpse as a marker now. 'Hey', they'd say, 'If you need to get to the clock tower, turn right at the guy with the green boots, and just go straight on by that hot, smoldering, sexy red-headed Cajun frozen in the ice not far from the clock tower, he didn't make it. Pussy.' That was what they'd say. And it was that thought that made the hot, smoldering, sexy red-headed Cajun push onward. He had to make it to the clock tower, no matter the frostbite in his fingers and his toes. His nose had rotted off long ago and there were ice ciccles in his hair, but he to push on!
Finally! Finally, he arrived at the clock tower with panting breaths. And there was Dean! But he was frozen! Gambit was too late!
"M' freezin' my ass off, homme." The Louisianan complained with a slow drawl, pushing his partially gloved hands deeper into his pockets. It was only forty-seven degrees outside and there was no snow.. but it didn't matter. It felt like an arctic tundra.