Dean Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dudeimbatman) wrote2010-07-19 07:51 pm
dudeimbatman) wrote2010-07-19 07:51 pm
Entry tags:
24th Hunt [Accidental Video] Knockin' on heaven's door
[Dean is exhausted. He hasn't slept the entire time he's been in the catacombs. He's starving because he also hasn't eaten and the only water he's had is the muddy little bit he managed to find trickling from some underground spring. Oh yeah, he's also bloody and in a hell of a lot of pain. Zombie bites hurt and when added to a laundry list of scrapes, bruises and cuts he's collected during multiple fights with the zombies he's on his last leg.The video for his device clicks on as he crouches above a corpse that has been dead a while yet remains juicy. He's rifling through a bag of some sort. That search produces a half full water bottle that he chugs and tosses before moving onto rifle through pockets.
That search? Just as productive. He comes up with an off brand fried apple pie. He takes one hesitant glance at the corpse. The fact that he has no desire to nom nom on this juicy corpse is something he's taking as a good sign. Maybe all the zombie movies are wrong and he just has to get the hell out of here and to a hospital.]
Sorry, Dude but since you aren't going to be eating this...
[And then all hesitation is gone as Dean rips the paper off the fried pie and starts practically inhaling it. He lets out a groan of absolute ecstasy, well aware that in any other circumstance this fried pie would probably taste like crap. He's so exhausted/hungry/thirsty/plain old distracted he doesn't see or hear the pair of zombies coming up behind him. One's already munching on his shoulder, saved from being zombie dinner only by the leather jacket he's still wearing. Dean swings his elbow back, the last bit of his apple pie forgotten and launches into combat. He started this adventure out being able to own the zombies but at this point they've had more rest, food and water (do zombies even drink?) than he has. He's pretty damn sure they're faster than him and stronger. Fuck Dawn of the Dead remakes for making zombies fast. He's holding his own with the machete at least until one gets their hands on what looks like femur.]
Great, I'm gonna be boned to death.
[The zombie knocks him hard upside the head with the leg bone and Dean goes down, blood trickling from his head. The other zombie leans in to take a bite and gets his hands on the machete. There's a thick, wet sound and then the lens of the device is squirted with blood. After that the video shuts off.]
[ooc: Part of the graves plot. Obviously Dean will not be responding however, feel free to threadjack/respond/yell/freak out at will. Sam or others may be replying to those comments. Yes, he's dead.]
That search? Just as productive. He comes up with an off brand fried apple pie. He takes one hesitant glance at the corpse. The fact that he has no desire to nom nom on this juicy corpse is something he's taking as a good sign. Maybe all the zombie movies are wrong and he just has to get the hell out of here and to a hospital.]
Sorry, Dude but since you aren't going to be eating this...
[And then all hesitation is gone as Dean rips the paper off the fried pie and starts practically inhaling it. He lets out a groan of absolute ecstasy, well aware that in any other circumstance this fried pie would probably taste like crap. He's so exhausted/hungry/thirsty/plain old distracted he doesn't see or hear the pair of zombies coming up behind him. One's already munching on his shoulder, saved from being zombie dinner only by the leather jacket he's still wearing. Dean swings his elbow back, the last bit of his apple pie forgotten and launches into combat. He started this adventure out being able to own the zombies but at this point they've had more rest, food and water (do zombies even drink?) than he has. He's pretty damn sure they're faster than him and stronger. Fuck Dawn of the Dead remakes for making zombies fast. He's holding his own with the machete at least until one gets their hands on what looks like femur.]
Great, I'm gonna be boned to death.
[The zombie knocks him hard upside the head with the leg bone and Dean goes down, blood trickling from his head. The other zombie leans in to take a bite and gets his hands on the machete. There's a thick, wet sound and then the lens of the device is squirted with blood. After that the video shuts off.]
[ooc: Part of the graves plot. Obviously Dean will not be responding however, feel free to threadjack/respond/yell/freak out at will. Sam or others may be replying to those comments. Yes, he's dead.]
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...this is the City. He'll wake up in a day or so and we'll help him then.
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You aren't doing anyone any good. You need to calm down.
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Calm down? I just watched my brother die, Anna. Dean, just died. How the hell am I supposed to calm down?
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[She crosses the room and sets the object down.]
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Dean just died while we were helpless to do anything about it. Does that not bother you at all?
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Of course it does. The limits that are placed on me here... they're frustrating.
But making hasty decisions will only harm you.
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What do we do, then, Anna? Please, tell me. I don't know what to do.
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We warn others. We keep our eyes open, and we make sure we're ready when he comes back.
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Yeah, okay.
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They put those graves there for a reason, and then this happens? I can't just chalk it up to coincidence.
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It's getting easier to do. Probably because I've been trying to teleport down there so much. Which still hurts, but I don't pass out anymore.
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We can't get down that way, Sam.
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If anything was going to work, that would've been it. We're never gonna be able to go down there, are we?
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Not until the Deities allow it.
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I'm gonna...take a walk.
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...Anna, do you ever miss being able to fly?
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You mean leave a host and exist in my natural state?
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Free to just..be you, instead of Anna Milton. Do you miss it?
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I feel less attachment, I feel less in general like that. I don't miss it per se.
[Moving to sit, her voice drops in volume a bit.]
If I miss anything, it's the... ignorance I had before becoming Anna Milton. Knowing about feeling in the most academic of terms means you're removed from it.
But I don't exactly regret my choices, Sam.
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