hadriel_logs | Intro Log: Off my chest

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Intro Log: Off my chest

Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for April.
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: April 10th-13th
Warnings: Newbies, explosions, and things that are definitely treasure chests and not evil monsters out to get you.

Welcome to your first day in Hadriel! Enjoy your surroundings, meet your fellow travelers, and be sure to start exploring so you can collect as much loot as possible!

On the ground around you may notice bang snaps, scattered haphazardly. Try not to step on any of them, or you might burn your feet! Feel free to gather them up and use these baby fireworks however you see fit; there are dozens strewn about on the ground. Popping them will emit clouds of smoke of various colors, and... well, not much else.

Is there anything else lurking around? Glad you asked! If you look around, you may find a few innocent-looking treasure chests. Which you know, normally means free loot- except, in Hadriel, nothing is quite the way it's advertised of course and the chests are actually dangerous mimics. Mimics- often disguised as treasure chests- are monsters with surprisingly quick movements and gaping maws filled with teeth. They exist to try and fool an unlucky traveler into thinking they've gotten something good... only to lunge at them in their moment of triumph and prove that life is actually terrible and nothing comes for free.

Good luck!

Once you've managed your daring escape from the colosseum, feel free to go explore the rest of the city! Find a house, find a new monster, or simply scavenge for supplies. Good luck, and enjoy your stay in Hadriel!

► This log covers April 10th-13th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well!
► All characters now arrive with phones that have network communication.
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!

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[Beyond grins cruelly, filling up with ugly satisfaction over the apparent struck nerve. It's not fair to say these things to this Dean instead of the other, the one who actually hurt Beyond by pushing him away, saying I have the devil on my ass, actual Lucifer, trying to destroy me and everyone around me; that's what I have for you, and anyone else that thinks I can take care of them. It's not fair to hold him responsible for what the other man said and did and somewhere in his brain, intellectually, Beyond understands this.

But this Dean is the one standing in front of him, entirely too close, with the same face, the same voice. Beyond meets the lack of space between them with a dead stare, a silent, defiant dare - Go on. Show me you care about something, anything.]

Because, Dean - you'd still rather run away than try.

[ And that, that's about as wrong as you can get with Dean. Because the man tries with every breath he takes. He tries to fight, tries to do right by people, tries to make the hard decisions that nobody else will make for him. And even when he fucks it all up, he damn well keeps trying, because there is often no one left to do it. There's never an end in sight to it all and even when he hurts people in the process, hurts himself, trying is, and always will be, the name of the game. ]

Wrong answer.

[ It doesn't matter that he's in the library, doesn't matter that he's in public of front of people. Before he can think on it, Dean reels back a fist just like he said he was going to, slamming it forward to breach the space between them, connect with any part of this kid's face that he can get to with a single strike. It's a stupid thing to do and he knows it, but that hardly matters when the rampant anger in his brain is a thing that takes hold faster than he can cope with nowadays. And for a resounding second it feels really damn good, the Mark a thing that demands severe violence, before it resonates loudly in his skull, rattles around and quiets within seconds. It always passes too quickly, leaves Dean feeling hollow and begging for more. But once is enough for now, a solid ending to his point. ]

[It doesn't matter to Beyond if his answer is wrong - provoking a violent response from the other man is right, and it feels to him like winning. He doesn't flinch, doesn't duck, doesn't make any move to avoid the impact of Dean's fist, which hits him squarely and splits his bottom lip open. He only grins wider and laughs, a horrible, mirthless, inhuman cackle, sharp and rasping like metal scraping against more metal. Dean may have made his point, but Beyond made one too - Got you.

A smart person would stop now, with that warning shot fired. Beyond is very smart - literally a genius - but he's not smart enough to stop, not smart enough to not keep pushing, which is what he does with the next words that tumble out of his mouth, pausing first only long enough to wipe the trickle of blood at his mouth with the back of his hand.]

Is that so? I don't believe you.

Yeah, fine- you're comin' with me, buddy.

[ Dean doesn't even register the split lip, couldn't care less that he's started a fight in the public eye with no other reason than some half assed taunting. But this kid here has somehow somehow sussed out all his weak points in the manner of seconds, and Dean wants to know why. Wants to know what else this jackass knows about him before he goes flaunting it who knows where, like Dean's some sort of interesting book that needs to be read.

Which is exactly why he grab him whole heartedly by the collar of his shirt, meaning fully to heft him practically off his feet and drag him out of the library before this gets messy enough that something gets knocked over, be it another person or an entire bookshelf. Dean isn't doing this where people can gasp in horror, and while he shouldn't be doing it at all, he couldn't care less about restraint anymore. There's too much here being exposed and he doesn't like it, doesn't care that he's already lost this game by getting violent. Because he wins every time the Mark earns its payment, when the ringing in his ears dies down to a dull roar and he can think beyond the imminent threat to do more damage. ]

[Beyond doesn't offer much resistance to being pulled outside, content to keep cackling a low, horrible laugh the entire time he's manhandled.]

Something the matter, Dean?

[Another push, another dare, another challenge laid out for Dean to accept or decline. If Beyond were betting, he'd put money on it being accepted.]

[ Dean all but tosses the kid into the street, attempting to put some distance between them with the hopes that he might cool his jets a little but that seems highly unlikely, considering- well, considering he's Dean. ]

You gonna keep shootin' the shit, or are you gonna tell me what I did? Because this sure as hell is a bitch move on your part and i'm thinkin' you know it.

[Beyond tugs down the hem of his (even more) rumpled shirt, staring up at Dean with a gleam of wicked satisfaction in his eyes. Yes, Beyond knows exactly what he's doing.]

Why are you so desperate to know, Dean? After all, you're the one who said it didn't happen.

And you're the one who thinks it did, so fess up. You want me to give a shit so badly, here I am giving a shit. Unless you're just interested in seeing what you can get away with.

[ In which case, you have been successful. ]

[In truth, it's a little of both, but the larger part, the part that Beyond finds more satisfying about this whole altercation, is the fact that he's made Dean care enough about something to act on it - which is something Dean on the Barge never did, no matter what barbs Beyond hurled in his path - except once, just before Beyond was murdered and woke up again in this place instead of on the Barge.

All right. Fine. He wants to know? Beyond recites Dean's words, clear as the day they were first painfully imprinted in his ears:]

"I'm real," you said, "not that other man you remember. We're not even close to being the same, he and I. I'm not good. I'm not safe. Those feelings that exist for him, they don't apply here. Don't let them."

[His hands are shaking by the time he finishes, chest rising and falling with labored breaths, heart pounding hard in his chest, jaw taut. His keen gaze never strays from Dean.]

We met during a breach. We weren't ourselves, but - you were still the first person I ever loved. And when the breach was over, that's what you said to me. Don't let whatever feelings carried over from that life mean anything.

[His expression sharpens, pinched, as he allows the pain of what Dean said wash over him anew. It's been many long months since it happened, and it doesn't hurt any less than it did that day.]

It meant something to me, Dean, and you didn't even want to try to see if it could mean something as our own selves. Because you're scared of things beyond your control, of not measuring up, of whatever demons you have following you.

[He gives Dean a sharp shake of his head.]

Demons don't scare me, Dean. I've already been hurt by far worse.

[And he didn't exactly survive it, but that's not quite the point. Beyond holds an unblinking stare on Dean for a moment more before speaking again.]

Are you satisfied?

[ Dean hadn't exactly thought this kid's response would be simple. Something was up that delved deeper than he even wanted it to but somehow he figured it would be some trivial shit fest, something stupid his... well, now it was his past self had done that had set him ablaze for whatever peculiar reason.

But the response he gets? Is a hundred times worse than he'd prepared himself for.

Standing there listening like some kind of idiot, all Dean can do is let his eyes grow larger, taking it all in and not having a single clue as to how to process the information he's being given. Half of it makes no sense at all (--the hell was a breach? how much had he confessed to about himself? did he know about the apocalypse, hunting, his brother- anything at all?--), and the rest? The rest is just weird, feels like too much, as if he's been handed a beating, bloody heart that he's meant to assess without damaging further. He's picked this guy clean of his story and yet it doesn't feel any better, not even in the slightest. Because god, had he broken this kid?

Was that his fault? What the fuck had he done, what more had he ruined?

The version of himself that lived through the end of days, that had died at his brother's- Lucifer's hand had been broken, and yet is nearly who stands here now. They are both shadows of themselves, visages of the man he'd been so long ago. ]

Satisfied doesn't even begin to cover it.

[ Confused, horrified- ] Lost is maybe a better start, let's go with that.

[Beyond was broken long before he ever met Dean, long before he died and woke on the Barge, long before he arranged three murders and planned to leave himself as the fourth victim in the series. He was born broken, with a shinigami's sight, seeing death in the face of every person he ever encountered with no explanation for it, no reason given. He was broken further by the House that took him in as a child and trained him how to stop being a person and act as a problem-solving machine instead.

He thought this was what winning would feel like, throwing these facts in Dean's face and watching for his reaction. Beyond thought he'd feel a vicious sense of satisfaction at the confused expression Dean now wore, but he doesn't. He feels hollow and tired, pain throbbing at his split lip. Dean may be lost, but Beyond has been losing all along.]

Start with whatever you'd like, Dean.

[Beyond wipes at the blood on his lip with the edge of his thumb, the split tissue stinging where the tip of his tongue prods it from the inside. Pain is, as always, a reminder of what's real.]

[ He'd like to start with the fact that he feels as if he's been punched in the gut. Suddenly everything has become dismally bright, the sort of pain that follows being inspected a little too well, known in a way that people aren't supposed to know him. Especially when it comes to someone he feels as if he's just met, a person he does not know figuring him out to the barest bones.

It's uncomfortable. He is uncomfortable and he shifts his weight, dragging a hand down his face and wishing he could make this all disappear. ]

If you're expecting something from me-- [ He sure as hell isn't giving it. ]

You already made it quite clear that there's nothing to expect from you, Dean.

[Beyond tips his head to one side and then to the other, each time reaching an end to the movement with a loud crack of the bones in the joints of his neck snapping.]

Just because you don't remember doesn't mean I've forgotten.

[ He might have been some semblance of alright there, he would've left it at that, except the kid has to keep pushing. Acting like this was something that happened to him when Dean knows it didn't. He doesn't just forget things - he's the one who has to watch everyone else forget. Die. Leave. Go. And Dean can't just leave it alone because he can't, he is utterly incapable. ]

Just because you keep saying it, doesn't mean you're right. It wasn't me, when're you gonna figure that out?

Wasn't it?

[Pushing is what Beyond does, pushing and observing for cracks in the surface to be pushed farther. He knows this isn't the same Dean, but it's hard not to have the same feelings dragged up from where he'd worked hard to squash them down when he looks at him.]

How are you any different, Dean? Besides the obvious, of course. Enlighten me.

[Show your work.]

Edited 2016-04-29 03:11 (UTC)

So now you think i've gotta prove it to you?

[ Because that's bullshit. He has nothing to prove to anyone, let alone this guy who seemingly thinks he knows him better than anyone around. That unto itself is ridiculous, is something that Dean is still having trouble processing, refusing to believe that someone who doesn't know him still knows him so well. ]

Well, I suppose if you're not up to the task ...

[Beyond shrugs, a smug half-smirk scrawled over his mouth. You're proving my point is what he leaves unsaid, hanging in the space between them.]

[ In all honesty, Dean didn't know what he could do to prove himself. It was one of those things that only time would reveal, that he could only impress upon through everyday actions. Not through some spontaneous reveal. At least not that he knew of. What was he supposed to do, start up and talking about himself? Start revealing his deep dark secrets - would that do it? Because that sure as hell wasn't gonna happen. Not when this kid didn't even deserve it. ]

You expecting some kinda song and dance?

I told you, Dean - you've already made it quite clear that there's nothing I can expect from you.

[By which he means you are nothing.]

[ He gives his head a shake, a lewd, mean grimace making an appearance. ]

No, see- you don't get to play both angles here. The one where you don't expect shit, but think I have to enlighten you. Because even if I did leave an impression, you'd get to say it still didn't matter because you weren't looking for it. So guess what, i'll make it easy on you.

You actually need something? I'll be around.

[ And with that, Dean proceeds to storm his way off, rolling his shoulders with the effort of shaking out the rest of the conversation. ]

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Intro Log: Off my chest

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