oh, Lazarus, how did your debts get paid? [ OPEN ]

[venatoris]

Who: infractus, lefthemisphere, egyptologist & you!
What: event shenanigans in one fabulous catch all, for all your RP needs
When: Throughout September
Where: All over!

Content Warnings: mentions and gifs/images of blood and dead bodies, death, decay, and trauma, possible suicide ideation, possible R rated scenes of varying degrees, etc etc. will mark as needed







(( ooc; event prompts, various september logs, and tdm continuations will go in this thread. if you have something you'd like to do, pm me or hit me up at pincurls! ))

Comments

dean winchester | spn (endverse)

[venatoris]

𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤;

[ Dean hears about the ritual from the locals. He's no stranger to stuff like that; back home, he's engaged in more spellwork and rituals than the average human. It's enough that anyone outside of the Hunter racket would've called him a witch, though he would've balked and vehemently denied any such thing.

Truth is, angels, demons, summoning, banishing, sigils, purification rituals...it's all spellwork, witchery, and while Dean wasn't the best (Bobby took that honor, really), he was pretty good. Superstitious enough to participate, anyway.

To anyone who may be visiting the cabin, Dean will be out past the gardens and greenhouse in the back, knelt down, frowning as he holds up a bullet, rolling it in his fingers. He doesn't dare bury a bullet from the Colt, that's...well, it is personal, but it's also necessary. He's already needed it once. The bullets are limited and unless someone can help with that, he needs to conserve them.

A regular one though - that should be fine. It certainly signifies the violence in his past, the regrets, the chaos, the death and loss and tragedy of the Winchester family. Dean started life young with death, and he has always assumed (correctly) he'll meet a violent end, so this is the best thing he can think of. Carefully, gently, he buries it, slices his palm and drips bright droplets atop the dirt, watching curiously. ]

𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝕣𝕖𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕥;

[ Never has Dean ever imagine that picking up a ravens feather would transport him back to the rivers of Hell. It isn't an experience he ever cared to repeat - though he expected it, eventually. Nothing Dean has done in his entire life has ever guaranteed him a trip to heaven, especially after telling Michael to get fucked and causing...Well.

Everything.

The bad end, it's on him. It's heavy on his shoulders, the self reflection of all his mistakes stares him in the faces that rot before him. Some he knows intimately, desperately - Mary. John. Sam. Jo. Ellen. Bobby. Cassie. Lisa. Castiel. So...so many more; people he knows and loves and people he doesn't, not yet, probably never...people he thinks he should know, he should've known if he'd made different choices, if he'd called Sam, if he'd worked it out, forgiven him, looked beyond the Ruby bullshit and called his brother home.

They're rotting, flesh sliding off in chunks, dropping in the rider, the waters running red with blood that soaks Dean's hands.

At the end of it, he's hunched over and breathless, deposited back on dry ground but not satisfied with it, a compass in his hand. He's shaking and a little sick, because his past is bloody, it's heartbreaking, and there's very little good. Help him, hand him his newly won compass, take him home or buy him a goddamn drink, Christ. ]

𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕕𝕤𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥;

[ Dean is no stranger to bloodlust; he's spent five years with a revenge boner for Lucifer, devoting every waking breath to plotting and planning and searching for the one weapon he thought he could kill the archangel. In hindsight, it was fucking a waste, it didn't work, and everyone he knew and loved died, demons tearing them to pieces while Lucifer taunted Dean, eventually throwing him down and cracking the delicate bones in his neck.

That there is bloodlust in Trench is unsurprising, it simmers just under Dean's skin, bubbling beneath the surface; that Trench amplifies it is expected, almost welcomed. He's angry, violent after the river of fuckin' death, and freankly -- he's ready to fuck some monsters up.

If there is a fellow sleeper in the ring with him, he'll resist. He'll pull his shit together and ask if they want to team up, fight together. If it's a monster? Game on. He's ready, coming in hot and furious and angry, shield he didn't know he had exploding around him, protecting his human frame while he twists and punches and kicks and stabs, leaving him a bloodsoaked mess, heaving for air, lost in the bliss of blood. His other party trick is blood manipulation, and he doesn't even realize he's a Trench version of Darth Vader, reaching out and squeezing, watching a monsters heart burst in front of him, collapsing to the ground, a gooey mess. ]

(( ooc; prompts are fairly open - if we plotted something out, feel free to hit me up here, or we can discuss something via PM or over at pincurls! ))

bloodsport

[exorion]

[Cayde's been through a few fights, monsters mostly, and it feels... Well, it feels good. Something Cayde chalks up to being out of the field, of coming back to himself instead of that whole squid situation.]

[There's an inky black snake coiled around his arm, and her tail rattles as he enters the ring to cheers that Cayde has decided are definitely for him specifically and aren't just from people excited to see some fights. Cayde's a theatrical man, fixing his hood when he stops opposite Dean and unholsters his gun with a spin and a flourish that ends with a wink to the man opposite.]

I hear teamwork makes the dream work.

[yes he is going to keep saying that to people until it catches on.]

[venatoris]

[ It's better than the squids, that Dean can agree with. He hasn't come to terms with all..that just yet, but he's probably one of the few people in Trench that's actually glad to be here, so he's not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth too closely.

The snake gets a little bit of a side-eye, but Dean tips his head at the Sleeper in the ring with him, the bloodlust cleared enough to where he isn't ready to act like a friggin' attack dog. ]

That's what I've heard, too. Ready to shake 'em up?

[exorion]

Oh yeah.

[He turns to face one of the other doors, sounds like that's where they're gonna be releasing the beasts from to him, and he's more than ready for it. Something in him that thrums in anticipation when the doors start to open and he glances aside at his new pal.]

You wanna go first or should I?

[venatoris]

[ He's got a blade in his hand that he's picked up along the way somewhere - twisted and ugly, but it's sharp and it does the job. He twirls it in his hand, thumbing the hilt as he gestures, lips twisting in a smile. ]

Be my guest.

[schoolingfish]

[There's another sleeper in the ring with him all right. A small, trembling, absolutely terrified sleeper. Sure, he was feeling the weird, revved up energetic feeling the same as everybody, but Luca also knows he's a child and that he's totally unprepared for any of this.

He takes a step back, hesitating. The last person he ended up trapped in one of these matches ended up helping him and doing all the fighting against the monster that was released in here with him. Hopefully this guy will be fine with doing the same.]

Um...hi? Do you mind if I just hide behind you and let you do all the fighting?

[venatoris]

Jesus, they're putting kids in here?!

[ He's a scrawny little thing that Dean can't believe has ended up here -- his opinion of Trench might be shifting a little after this encounter. ]

Get behind me.

[ There's not even a question of if he'll do all the work - not in his mind. Dean may be from the Bad End of things, he may be insensitive and rotten on the inside, but he's always had a soft spot for kids and that hasn't changed, not even after everything he's been through. ]

[schoolingfish]

[Luca nods, before quickly scampering behind Dean. Just in time, too, because it seems they've decided this is the perfect moment to release their opposition. The doors clang open, and a large, hulking minotaur steps through, a massive axe in hand. Luca lets out a small whimper and takes a step back.]

Maybe it can be talked out of fighting?

[There's not much of a chance of that. The minotaur takes one look at Dean and charges.]

[venatoris]

Yeah, I don't think so.

[ It's a big beast, that minotaur. Dean hasn't ever fought one before, but he's heard of them. They're usually from Greece, and myth differs on how they're killed, but Dean reckons it's got blood running through its veins like any other monster, which means there's a way to dispose of it.

For now, to give him a moment to think, he throws up the shield he's figured out how to use, grunting in effort when the minotaur slams itself right into the shimmering green haze, enraged meaty fists hammering down. ]

Any bright ideas, kid?

Growing Pains

[demonicbeauty]

Anakin didn't want Ariadne going anywhere near Dean. She didn't entirely understand why, but more importantly, she wasn't one to follow instructions. Especially given the fact that she and Dean had gone through quite a lot in Deerington. They had a history and had saved each other. Between him and little Sam, she felt like she very nearly could have a family of some kind. So Anakin's concerns didn't stop her. She knew what kind of a man he was.

And more importantly, what kind of man he could be.

She picked up his scent as she got closer and followed it around back, just in time to see him dropping something into the earth. There were quite a lot of people completing the ritual around town. Ariadne hadn't taken part herself yet. And she was a little surprised to see Dean doing it. But not...not in a bad way.

Wisely, she decided to wait until he was done with his knife before she slowly approached. "Saying goodbye?"

[venatoris]

Anakin can suck Dean's big fat dick for all he cares; the guy isn't even on Dean's give a fuck radar, honestly. Ariadne isn't Padmé, she's her own person who can make her own damn decisions. If she wants to visit him out in Ache, then she's more than welcome. He told her once that she had a family here if she wanted it, and he meant it.

Eat him, Ani.

He's carefully squeezing his fist over the buried bullet, glancing behind him when he hears her approach, glancing over and lifting a shoulder in a one armed shrug.

"I guess. Isn't that the point, or something? Burying the past?"

[demonicbeauty]

She nodded, folding her hands behind her back. "Normally, I think it's supposed to be some kind of metaphor. But Trench seems a little more literal." Which actually boded well for her, since she was so terrible with metaphors. There was the slightest possibility she wouldn't embarrass herself as much.

Then again, there was still her conversation with Anakin, looming over her.

Quite the exercise in humiliation.

"Do you think it's going to help you?" she asked. Ariadne got the sense that she needed to give in and participate. But it was hard to consider. She didn't like absolutes and saying goodbye felt...absolute.

[venatoris]

"Maybe," he concedes, staring at the ground, waiting for...something to happen as he completes this silly little ritual that was everyone seems to be doing.

"It can't hurt. I got a lot of red in my ledger." Yeah, yeah. He's seen Avengers, even in the Apocalypse, capitalism has its teeth sunk deep.

"Look--"

Maybe he's rewarded for his acceptance of Trench and its rituals and traditions, because a beautiful dahlia is what carefully sprouts and unfurls in front of them, soft and lovely against the backdrop of Trench.

bloodsport

[specifiercity]

[Arthur steps into the ring ready to fight. He's got a blade in his right hand — a long dagger or a short sword, one of the two — and an adrenaline-fueled focus in his eyes. He's worked off the first jitters with a couple monster fights but this is the first time he's seen something that looks human across from him.]

[Of course, he's killed enough things that look human at first glance. Werewolves and vampires can start off looking nice enough when you first meet them.]

[Still, he doesn't charge right away. It's more his style to wait and see, turn the momentum of a surprise attack against the aggressor, so he just shifts his weight and eyes up Dean.]

[venatoris]

[ No, not a monster. Dean's been a few rounds too, he feels like friggin Maximus from Gladiator in the ring like this, a million bucks and on top of the world.

But this time it's a Sleeper, he can already tell. This is different.

Dean doesn't...particularly want to fight Sleepers - not if he can help it. He's savvy enough to realize (a realization he brought with him from home) that creating antagonistic relationships with people is a good way to not get the shit you need when you need it. Raleigh dumbass Becket was an exception, because the fool went after Sammy when he was already down and sick, hurt his baby brother when he was already as low as it can be. It was deserved.

This isn't, as far as he can tell.

So he tips his head, studies his opponent and furrows his brow, twirling the twisted blade he'd found in his hand, circling him the way he's circled right back. Predator to predator.

Finally-- ]

What's your name?

[specifiercity]

[He smirks, wondering whether this is genuine hesitation or a tactic. He's ready to deal with either.]

Arthur.

[There's no danger in sharing his name, not that he's seen.]

What's yours?

river of regret - hope this is ok!!

[wiseass]

[New terrain meant dialing up the patrols to get the lay of the land. This place was big, much larger than Deerington and Claire hadn't even scratched the surface with her frequent trips since the squid travels. Larger didn't necessarily mean better, it meant more of the unknown and a bunch of outliers that were stacked against her. Against them. It wasn't a comforting thought.

Claire's been making three trips a day, morning, afternoon, and night. Her free time has been fully committed to figuring out the new cage they're all in, and it keeps her busy and her thoughts from wandering too far. The idea of possibly missing Deerington has crossed her mind before, better the devil you know, but it didn't do her any good and as soon as it comes it brings with it unbridled rage she didn't know what to do with.

She's in her head walking the perimeter when the messy slosh brings her right back to the bloodbath in front of her.]

Dean!

[Did it really matter what Dean she was dealing with at this point? She'd seen him come and go, from different points in time more than once. There's no version of Dean she doesn't know how to handle and so she runs right into the mess, the blood a sticky slew of crimson that stains her clothes and skin. Claire's much smaller than him, but she's stronger than she looks and is doing what she can to support his weight with the help of the water.]

C'mon, you big baby. Snap out of it.

[venatoris]

[ It's him, in whatever form he may be in this time; covered in blood and trembling from his fun whitewater canoe ride down bloody memory lane is what she gets, a man who allows a tiny girl to haul him up, despite barely even comprehending who she is. ]

Jesus, [ he growls, trying to walk through the slop, shaking his head to clear it, blinking in rapid succession to bring himself back home. ]

...Claire? [ She's a ghost of a memory, a youth he'd met once, then again in Deerington much older. Seems like that's the version Trench though fit to bring. ]

[wiseass]

[It's not like Claire hasn't ever seen Dean messed up. That's part of the gig, and it held hands with trauma like a childhood friend.

She can support his weight just fine, despite the weight and height difference she's a lot stronger than she looks and she braces as he makes progress back to shore.]

Yeah. Yeah, it's me. Let's catch up and reminisce once we're on solid ground.

𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕕𝕤𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥 | LEMME KNOW IF THIS WORKS

[kingoftherats]

[Charlie honestly isn't even sure how he'd gotten here, himself; despite a bit of a, uh, wildcard personality when it comes to bloodlust, he's really not much for fighting or anything like that. Sure, he's had plenty of little scraps here and there with others — if anyone in the Gang betted on someone to send into a violent fight, it'd be Charlie — but he'd honestly much prefer to sit around in a folding chair and drink beer until he got sleepy enough to nap in the sun like a flea-bitten chihuahua.

Instead he's here, with Dean Winchester's hand twisted up in his shirt collar, and he's not having a good time. He scrabbles a little against the guy that towers over him a bit too much as the crowds hoot and holler.]

What the fuck, Dean—! Lemme go!

[A fist hits him in the eye, glancing off his orbital bone, and then another hits him in the mouth, filling it with the taste of warmblood; the shock of pain spirals him into something feral, much like a rabies-infested dog in a corner, and he does the only thing that his mind readily supplies to him: he goes apeshit.

Which means he starts scratching wildly with his fingers at the threat, just before he throws his head forward, sinks his teeth into Dean's forearm, and bites hard. Hard enough to break skin, with all the fervor of a man dead set on tearing away a chunk of flesh.]

[venatoris]

[ The amount of times Dean has been thrust into the 'ring' is comical - again and again, they call for him, drag him back with the sultry temptation of blood and death, things he knows so intimately well. They're like old familiar friends, and every time he leaves bloodsplattered, he wants more.

Craves it.

It's enough to drive a man wild, edge him towards corruption, past the point of no return, where nothing matters, only violence and rage, an outlet for all of his pent up fury where there has been none before.

He's done well with avoiding hand to hand with Sleepers, trying to make allies instead of enemies, but there comes a point in time where maybe that's all there is - violence, brutality.

The more he enters the ring the more pieces of himself he loses, until he's barely a man at all, right there on the cusp of of it all, right on the precipice of madness.

He doesn't recognize the man in the ring, he only knows one thing - destroy. Blow after blow, connection or not he keeps trying, keeps going, he'll kill if he has to, because he needs to, wants to-
-

At first, he doesn't even realize. Dean doesn't feel pain the way he used to, the way he did before. He barely feels it at all, a pressure on his arm, the rip and tear of teeth.

It's the sound of it that breaks him away, actually -- the panicked noises of someone desperately trying to free themselves, the tear of nails on flesh, of it ripping under human jaws-- ]

What the--

[ It's Charlie. Dean gasps, shoving at his head, because no, stop -- stop, he poisonous, literally poisonous-- ]

Charlie, stop, stop!

[kingoftherats]

[Bah, a little poison never stopped a guy — well, alright, it never stopped Charlie Kelly, and he's fortunate enough to get most of it out when he turns his head sharply and spits a very literal piece of Dean on the floor. He doesn't seem to hear Dean, though, his pupils shrinking into pinpricks as he swings a fist hard at Dean's jaw. Careful buddy, that small bony knuckle packs more of a punch than people realize; they usually get the hint once it hits them and snaps their head to the side.

He howls a bit like an angry injured cat before lunging himself forward, trying to throw his small but solid body into Dean's in an attempt to knock him over. The crowd is loving the energy going on here, but — as he scrambles to try and get on top of Dean, his head suddenly sways in a dizzy circle, eyelids fluttering. He looks a bit dazed while he tries to keep looking at Dean. The vileblood dripping off his split lip proooobably has something to do with that, and he seems... to be getting hit with the effects of Dean's blood belatedly.

Charlie's almost unnatural tolerance to toxic substances has really helped him out here, but he's absolutely feeling his vision fuzzing out, the shouts turning into weird buzzing sounds as his muffled heartbeat begins to drown them out.]

Oh... sssshhhhit...

[Aaaand he's collasping.]

Growing Pains

[clawandscars]

[Tsume is just trying to find something to eat and is following where his nose leads him when he finds himself in what appears to be someone's backyard. He stands there quietly watching Dean performing a ritual, something that he thinks he's heard some of the locals talking about. He hadn't been paying attention to the details since it didn't sound like something he'd be interested in.

But to watch it firsthand is something else. He stands there watching all the way up to where Dean cuts himself and sprinkles blood onto the earth.]

Is something supposed to happen now?

cool, ty dreamwidth for eating this notif

[venatoris]

[ Huh. He kinda remembers this guy from the beach - looks familiar, anyway. ]

Apparently. Something something bullshit about burying the past.

Kicks DW on your behalf!

[clawandscars]

[Tsume snorts and looks supremely unimpressed with that idea.]

The past is never far. Anyone who thinks otherwise is an idiot who is deluding themself.

[He catches movement out of the corner of his eye from the spot where the blood had fallen.]

I think it's starting to work.