InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "It's not me, it's YOU."

Remy LeBeau (ace_of_clubs) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-07-11 00:08:00

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.

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hellsboy
2009-07-11 07:44 pm UTC (link)

"Nah, I figured we could wander around in the dark. I thought everyone could see in the dark, man," he teased and grinned in the darkness. He knew this place fairly well and could move around in the dark but that wasn't going to help in the long run, especially for this guy who was standing around shivering like he'd never had to deal with the cold before.

He rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket for one of the disposable Bic lighters that had been in the gas station. With a flick of his thumb the lighter ignited and a tiny orange flicker lit up Dean's face from below as though he had a flashlight at a campfire while telling ghost stories. "Boo!" he said and chuckled before turning away to shine the light around the room they were in briefly.

He slung down his backpack then and let the light go out as he rummaged inside its large pouch for the roll of paper towels he'd brought. The hole in the roll fit snuggly over the post of one of the metal bar chairs strewn near the butcher block island in the center of the kitchen. With the lighter he lit the roll and smiled as the entire kitchen and pantry were flooded with flickering orange-gold light. "Better?"

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ace_of_clubs
2009-07-11 08:05 pm UTC (link)

"Oui." He agreed with a grin, eyes turning over onto the paper towel roll to watch it burn. "Ain' gon' las' lon' 'dough, homme." He warned, tugging open the pantry as he did. Cold gloved fingers dug around inside, coming up with a jug of cooking oil. He shook it up then headed over to the sink, which was thankfully metal, and he pushed the head out of the way and plugged it up, before pouring some of the cooking oil in there, then setting the jug aside so they could keep refilling it, if they needed to. Then he was going for a cabinet door, grabbing hold and giving a good, hard jerk so he could tear it straight off its hinges. Once he had it down, he was bracing it up with one hand, putting the other end on the floor, and he stomped a booted foot down onto it good and hard, splintering the wood apart. A few more stomps like that and he was able to snap a good deal of it into manageable pieces, and dropped them unceremoniously into the sink with an inch of cooking oil in it.

One of those pieces of wood was picked up and he held it over the glowing paper towel roll, catching the flames until the wood began to burn, then he was setting it in the sink, the cooking oil instantly catching on fire and burning bright, like a bon fire. It lasted just long enough to start the wood burning. The red-head then took a moment to tear off another door and stomp that into pieces as well, so they could keep feeding the fire, if they planned to stay. As an after thought, he pulled down the moth-eaten curtains on the window near the sink and dropped them atop the fire to burn there, so that there wasn't anything near that could catch on fire.

"'Dere we go," With that said, he was tugging the chair and the still-burning paper towel roll closer to the pantry to use it for light as he began to sift through, moaning some when he was able to read the labels of the food. Real food! He tossed a pillow case at Dean, then began putting things into his own pillow case, though he set aside something every now and then, something that he planned to eat before they left the house.

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