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

[venatoris]

Dean snorts, settling down on his knees to watch her work.

"That's a nice way of putting it." Dean fucking hates religion, hates what it did to his family, his friends, the goddamn planet. The friggin' whole apocalypse was a setup, and his entire horrific, torturous existence literally created to prove a fucking point.

No, he doesn't care for religion.

[demonicbeauty]

She gave him a wide-eyed look. "I'm always nice," she replied. Before her nose crinkled and she laughed a little bit. Ariadne missed many things. But she knew how others perceived her. And it wasn't like she couldn't make fun of herself. Especially if those jokes helped to maintain her reputation.

Damn it, she was still thinking like a spy, wasn't she?

Ariadne wasn't sure she'd ever be able to shake all of that training.

Nimbly, she finished packing the soil, before standing up and brushing herself off. "This is going to need a lot of sun," she told him. "Where's the sun best in the morning?"

[venatoris]

"I know." He gives her a confused look, but he lets it go because he isn't overly interested in going into his tragic backstory today, anyway.

"Uh, this side," he gestures, to the right side. "I was out here this morning and the sun came up from that way."

[demonicbeauty]

"Perfect," she said, setting the pot down near the glass. She loved the bright burst of color in the flower's petals, set against the drab backdrop of Trench. It wasn't an awful place, but it was very, very gray. Which could be a little bit gloomy. Ariadne was quite sure colors impacted mood. No surprise that her favorite color was red. Not blood red. Cheerful red. The red of a cherry or a rose petal or the enormous ruby she'd once stolen for Princess Amanda.

She stepped back, then clapped her hands on her thighs, turning to face Dean.

In that moment, she realized, there was really no way of avoiding it. She was going to have to talk to him about Anakin.

"I'm not supposed to be here, you know," she said. "Anakin Skywalker doesn't want me talking to you."

[venatoris]

He thinks Cas will be satisfied with their work - the pretty dahlia in all its carefully potted glory.

Dean's staring at it, rolling over in his head how he's gonna present it to Cas when Ariadne speaks again.

"Excuse me?" Dean lifts a brow, drags his gaze up to fix on hers as he folds his arms. "You're allowed to do whatever the hell you want. Wait-- who doesn't want you talking to me?" Frickin-- what?

[demonicbeauty]

Ariadne was well aware of the fact that she was entitled to do as she pleased, but she did appreciate the affirmation, all the same. It put Dean ahead of Anakin, at least. He seemed to think that because she shared his wife's face, he was entitled to boss her around. Like some sort of child.

She wasn't a child.

"Anakin," she said. "Anakin Skywalker. He's a Sleeper. Like us."

[venatoris]

Ah...it's becoming a little clearer, now. The pissy voice messages, Ariadne's insistence she isn't Padmé...

It's like a lightbulb was turned on.

"I know of him." Dean's seen the movies, but that's another discussion for another time, if even at all. "Well -- lemme ask you this. Do you wanna be here?"

[demonicbeauty]

She stared at him as if he'd started speaking a language she didn't know. And she knew all of them. But after a moment, her eyes crinkled up a little and she tilted her head. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to," she replied. "You're my friend. You called me family."

It was a little word, but it meant more to her than she could possibly say.

A lot of people came through the multiverse with friends. With family. With people who understood their worlds.

She was alone.

Family was the one thing she needed most.

[venatoris]

"And I meant it."

It means a lot to Dean, too. He doesn't throw that word around lightly - not this Dean, not to anyone. Dean's family back home had been nonexistent; Lucifer was wearing Sam to the prom, Cas was a spaced out druggie that Dean has essentially led straight into debauchery himself, Bobby was dead, Ellen, Jo, Ash...everyone else was dead. Dean had almost no one.

"You're always welcome here, and no one will ask you to leave."

[demonicbeauty]

Yes. Because Ariadne knew what kind of man Dean was, for all of his bluster. The issue at hand was less what she knew, though, and more than Anakin seemed to think he knew. And what he thought was good for her. "I know," she said, unaware of the weight and irony that phrase carried.

She hopped up on the shelf beside the plant, crossing her ankles. "Just like I know you would never try to 'take advantage' of me."

Ariadne still wasn't convinced there was anything worth trying to get out of her, anyway.

[venatoris]

He leans back against the opposite shelf, arms folded, his face twisting into some combination of confusion and irritation.

"Course I wouldn't." Dean slept around plenty back home, but he took no for an answer, and he didn't take advantage of people. "Is that what he told you?"

[demonicbeauty]

"He also said you were a 'sleemo.' I don't actually know what that means, but the entomology doesn't seem nice." Certain unkind words just sounded unkind. Although Ariadne didn't curse often, that didn't mean she didn't know a lot of curse words.

She knew them. All of them.

Back home, anyway.

[venatoris]

"Yeah, I don't think it's a nice term."

Sounds sleazy, and sure Dean's a douchebag, but he isn't slimy. He takes personal offense to that, thanks very much.

"Let me guess - he feels like he's got some kinda claim on you cause you look like his wife."

[demonicbeauty]

"I think that perhaps 'claim' is a bit of a strong word. I'm quite sure he has no desire for me to be his mate."

She just had the misfortune of looking like her. And snarly males often got very territorial where their mates were concerned. Snarly females too, if she was being honest and if her family history was any indication.

No one got between her mother and the people she claimed as her own.

"I suppose I'm the wrong person to ask. I know nothing about love."

[venatoris]

"Probably overstepping, but that's likely for the best." Anakin Skywalker is an obsessive, narcissistic bastard. Not that Dean isn't, but.

You know. He's also not barking orders at Ariadne.

"I don't know much, either." He's learning, slowly, what it's like to allow himself to feel those emotions, but it's complicated. It's always been complicated with Cas.

[demonicbeauty]

"Really?"

That surprised her in some ways. Not because he had made it clear her knew a lot about sex. She understood that there was a difference. But more because Dean always struck her as so worldly. It was hard to imagine that there was much of anything he hadn't experienced.

...or perhaps he just seemed old?

Not that he was old. But he...acted old.

[venatoris]

"Really. Never had a relationship longer than two months."

Dean feels ancient, a broken shell of the man he used to be. He's thirty five and feels seventy.

[demonicbeauty]

"Two months?"

She knew that courtiers flitted from bed to bed. But two months was incomprehensible to an Alastrian, who knew only pairs that mated for life and remained so fiercely loyal it bordered on neurosis.

Humans were always full of surprises. But she wasn't especially sure how much she liked this one.

[venatoris]

"...Yeah?"

He furrows his brow a little, like jeez.

"Something wrong with that..?"

[demonicbeauty]

"It...doesn't seem like a lot of time." She wasn't judgmental or disgusted. Really, just confused. "I mean, I've known you longer than two months, and I still feel like there's a lot we don't know about each other. How do you get close to someone and fall apart so quickly? How does it work?"

Despite Anakin's wishes, Ariadne was going to look to Dean for answers.

In all fairness, she'd never had an older brother. Well, Galen had hatched first, but that didn't count.

[venatoris]

It isn't, really. But Dean isn't a great example.

"Dating...probably works differently where I'm from," he says, pushing off the wooden shelf and gesturing. Might as well go inside if they're gonna talk about this, sit down and have a drink. Ariadne's surrounded by a lot of people in Trench that are from some version of Earth - might as well learn about it.

[demonicbeauty]

She slid off of her perch and followed him outside, her hands folded behind her back in an easy, open posture. The last thing she wanted to do was put Dean on the defensive. Having one snarly male bossing her around was more than enough.

"Dating is like a courtship?" she said, vaguely familiar with the word, thanks largely to Deerington. "Although, from what I understand, it's less formal. And social caste doesn't matter as much?"

Ariadne actually liked that part, quite a lot.

[venatoris]

"Yeah, I guess so." Easiest way to put it, and she's right - way less formal than what she's likely used to.

"No, it doesn't matter. I guess it does to some people," not people Dean knows, "but for most, nah."

He leads her inside to the kitchen, getting out two ugly teacups down and giving her a splash of the good stuff.

"Sip it, remember. That's better stuff than I gave you last time. Should be smoother."

[demonicbeauty]

Ariadne accepted the cup with only a little trepidation. Not because of Anakin's warnings. Just because she remembered exactly how much whisky burned. Nevertheless, she sipped it and...

All right, it still felt like fire going down her throat. But less of a raging inferno, more of a coal that had been sitting on the fireplace for a few hours.

At least she didn't spit it out. She covered her mouth and managed a very ladylike cough.

"Smoother," she repeated, in a little croak.

[venatoris]

He laughs a little, proud she didn't spit it back out or choke like she did last time. She's getting better at it, so there's that.

"Tell you what. I have some wine that Sam's girlfriend brought over to the other cabin, that made its way here. Would you rather have that?"