hadriel_logs | August 15th; It's a Spooky Party!

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August 15th; It's a Spooky Party!

Who: Castiel and YOU. ALL OF YOU.
What: It's a party! It was going to be a fun game of Twister party, but now it's a spoopy party. This is a massive mingle, so please feel free to write your own starters! And feel free to jump on the party game headers as well, or include them in your starters too!
Where: The bar!
When: August 15th
Warnings: ALL THE WARNINGS. No, I lie. Alcohol, truth or dare, people falling on each other, scary stories maybe and snogging in a closet. And talking about feelings. Please add your own warnings to your comment thread headers and I will add them to the list!

Whether or not the lights were off, Castiel was determined to go ahead with his plan to cheer up the residents of Hadriel, and get them interacting with each other. He'd made his plans a week in advance, and when it came right down to it, the idea of whether or not he would allow Fear to get in the way of having fun was practically moot. Of course he wouldn't. It was far simpler to be oblivious, far easier to overcome fear - at least his own, if not the god - with amusement, and companionship.

It threw a bit of a monkey wrench into his plans, and was, it had to be said, particularly devastating for his personal party trick in particular. How would his "pull my finger" joke work now? But he was determined to soldier on, and that meant that the bar was taken over by an eager angel, complete with food that had been collected from the orchard, and around the town, a pack of cards, a bag full of pebbles, a bunch of sticks with tiny carvings on them, and as much paint as he had left over from his aborted attempt to redecorate the Winchester apartment.

Not much of a party, but that was what guests were for. And party games. And alcohol, obviously--that was why it was being held at a bar.

So maybe they'd have to bring their own light, and perhaps people might take advantage of the spooky mood and audience to tell some of those stories that Fear wanted people to share, or to play horrid tricks on each other...but so long as things didn't turn into a remake of Cabin in the Woods, Evil Dead, or House on Haunted Hill, they were probably fine. Actually, scratch that, so long as it didn't turn into any horror movie ever, they were probably fine.

But then, with Twister, Truth or Dare and Poker (any of which you can add "strip" in front of and they will be infinitely more fun) as available gaming options, perhaps it was a horror movie already.

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[He actually sounds like he knows what he's talking about... But Jack has already started to think that Johnny might be smarter than he appears in most situations. He just has a personality that overrides his brain sometimes.

He arches a brow, eyes never leaving Johnny's face as he takes the drink, holding it in his mouth for a few seconds before he downs it. Jack looks at the empty glass for a moment before he nods.]

You're right, it's better. [He places the glass down on the counter and slides it back in his direction.] Now what about the story? Try to scare me.

[It'll be a lot harder than getting a compliment.]

[ Johnny is silent for a moment, meeting his eyes over the shotglass. See, the thing is that Jack is right -- Johnny is smarter than he looks; more perceptive, too.

He might run his mouth a lot and leap recklessly into the unknown just because he can, but it doesn't mean he's oblivious to the people who have piqued his interest.

And Jack, well. He's come to pick up a lot more about him than he lets on. And so the question he asks is: ]

Do you want ghost stories, psycho killers, or is nothing off limits?

You already know the answer to that, don't you?

[Jack leans forward a little and squints at the question, at Johnny. It's somewhat unsettling to realize once again that he's not the unknowable, untouchable thing here that he was back in Shiloh. It's funny what money and power can do, not just to you, but to the eyes of the people around you. Without it, those rose-colored glasses come right off.

Nothing is off limits, and Jack feels like that must be painfully obvious. He leans back again, arms rested on the bar top. He's not sure that anything that comes out of Johnny's mouth will scare him, but it promises to entertain.]

[ Johnny meets his eyes for a long moment, considering him. Ever since they had first met, there's been something painfully raw about Jack -- something Johnny can never quite put his finger on. It's as if he had spent his whole life hurting and lonely, and had never learned how to be otherwise.

He knows Jack, even if he doesn't understand most of what the man is. He knows enough to understand that it's not ghosts or demons or serial killers that come for people like them. It's something more insidious, something more deceptively mundane.

But this is not the time for it. Johnny doesn't want to put Jack's demons on display -- it feels cruel. ]

So I was getting treated at this really expensive facility, right? Under observation and all that, precaution because of the insane radiation we absorbed because of the cosmic storm.

Everything was pretty cool, the doctors and nurses were great and professional, and it was all going well. Then this really weird shit started happening -- there was a lot of screaming. At this point I couldn't do anything, I was sedated to hell and I couldn't move. I was in an observation room, so one side was pretty much half glass. People could see in, and I could see out, right?

There was a woman in a bloodstained hospital gown, just walking past alone. But there was something weird about her. She was marble white. And I mean pure white smooth marble, her face looked like someone carved holes for her mouth and eyes and forgot to put anything in there.

There was something between her lips, this mess of fur, and it was moving. I mean, I was staring, because what the fuck, right?

And then she just stopped, and her head swivelled to stare at me. Her eyes were black painted glass marbles. Literally.

[There's a certain quality to Johnny's story from the very beginning, something honest and not the typical it was a dark and stormy night... cheap feel. The smirk on Jack's lips fades as he listens. It's an interest in the man himself that hooks him first, the elements of radiation and sedation. He's seen hospital rooms like that too, it's an easy thing to picture. And being so helpless that you can't even move - that would terrify anyone, wouldn't it?

Once again, he's doing what Jack didn't imagine that he could: he's drawing him in with his ghost - no, if the man was that drugged, there didn't really have to be any ghosts at all. It doesn't even matter since things can still be seen and believed in that state, and real or not, they're still terrifying. It's a frightening story to anyone who can imagine themselves in that position, and Jack can.]

What happened next?

[It's quiet, but he really wants to know. That's what Johnny's achieved with his story.]

Edited 2016-08-19 14:55 (UTC)

[ The secret to a scary story is to blend your own experiences with it -- and not to overdo that shit. Clearly, Johnny's in his element, and there's everything pleasing about drawing Jack's attention, keeping him intrigued. He feels a strange sense of pride about knowing that Jack wants to hear more instead of dismissing it, but he carefully stores it away to continue. ]

She just stared at me. Didn't blink, just stared in with those black eyes. There was blood all the way down her shirt. Ever had a creepy mannequin just stare full on at you? That's what it feels like.

[ Johnny grimaces. ] I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but look back. She spat out whatever it was that was in her mouth; it was just a mess of feathers that stopped moving by then.

Then she turned her whole body around, too, and pressed her white, ghost-mask face all up against the glass. She didn't look like anything I've ever seen, just this terrifying expressionless, smooth mannequin face.

Then she smiled, and her mouth is this weird, gaping black hole. No teeth, no tongue. You know how your eyes would crinkle when you usually do? Her eyes didn't even change shape when she smiled. It was just black, and staring.

Jack, it was seriously fucked up.

Was it fur or feathers in her mouth?

[Jack couldn't resist. But the smile on his lips isn't mocking, it's the smile of someone who's enjoying himself.]

Maybe she just liked what she saw. [Stroking his ego a little bit, as if he needed it. But he does seem a little genuinely unsettled by his own story. Memory?]

How did you get away from her?

Both! Like -- I thought it was a furry mess, but then there were these little baby feathers, you know?

[ HE'S GOING TO SINK WITH THIS SHIP, JACK. Johnny leans forward, closer, frowning thoughtfully. Jack's obviously enjoying himself, and Johnny thrives on his attention -- he's just good at hiding that. ]

See, that's the thing. I didn't get away from anything. I wanted to take her on, maybe do something, but I was paralysed. Couldn't even call for help if I wanted. She stared at me for a long, long time, before she just slowly turned and stalked away.

[ He pauses. ] I still don't know what the hell that was.

Edited 2016-08-20 03:20 (UTC)

[Ah. Both, of course. Jack nods slowly, but his attention doesn't dwindle as Johnny continues.]

I think I might have an idea. [He shifts forward, beckoning Johnny even closer. Jack's voice is low and dramatic right against Johnny's ear.] It was your sister.

[He laughs as he leans back again and reaches for the nearest bottle. He can't set a drink on fire for them, but he can pour.]

That wasn't bad.

Aw, that was a good one and you know it. And my sister's more terrifying than that.

[ Johnny chuckles and shakes his head at him, taking the glass of alcohol that Jack's poured. He likes Jack's wicked sense of humor, the way he's so damn unruffled about it all. ]

All right, now's your turn.

[Jack drinks, not commenting on the story or Johnny's sister, which is Jack-speak for it wasn't bad. If it was, he would have surely told him so.

He sighs when he lowers the glass.]

You want a scary story? Aren't you just hoping to hear about hot undead nurses?

[Jack smirks. He's never forgetting that, and he's never letting Johnny forget it either.]

[ Johnny's beginning to suss out Jack's unspoken intricacies, working the prince out quietly in the background while he engages him with open exuberance, a shamelessly honesty that makes him laugh at that comment. ]

I refuse to be ashamed of that! [ He pauses thoughtfully. ] But I guess I'd draw the line at scoring with undead chicks who are trying to kill me. That's just not a girl you bring home to your family.

[ He shakes his head with a mock-disappointed sigh, nudging Jack all the same, a spark of challenge and mischief in his eyes. ] Now come on, it's your turn. Unless you can't think up of a more awesome ghost story than I did.

[Ah, the ghost stories, which Jack has discovered are fare more likely to be sad than scary. He sets his glass down with a sigh, looking into it.]

When I was in the military, and the war was still going on, my squad was ambushed. Everyone was killed but me, and only because the enemy recognized me. Maybe they planned to get information, or a ransom. Maybe they hoped to make an example out of me.

[He looks up, meeting the other man's eyes.]

It's true, you know? Most dying men do call out for their mothers. But I heard one calling out his wife's name. We had served together since boot camp, so I recognized his voice and the name that matched up to a pretty young brunette whose pictures he'd shown me.

Most of the men sounded afraid, some in agony, but he sounded excited. Happy. I thought it was that last surge of adrenaline, a white light, whatever it is that's supposed to make dying more palatable. His hands were reaching up to the heavens, and there was a necklace dangling from his fingers. [His voice becomes soft and far off.] I remember the way that the light caught it, and thinking that it must've been something she gave him before he shipped out.

When I didn't die, and I returned to Shiloh, I made it one of my first orders of business to pay a visit, offer my condolences to his widow.

[Jack leans forward, because here's where the circle comes forward.]

Instead, I found her mother at the door. And when I asked to speak to the young woman, she told me that she had passed away years before. I didn't believe her, and so she showed me the program from her daughter's funeral, and a picture of her lying in her coffin...wearing the very necklace that I saw in my friend's hand.

[ Johnny listens as Jack speaks, attention rapt as he relays the story to him, fills in more about his life and his responsibilities, the men he's in charge of. This is no prince locked in his ivory tower if he's commanding men in battle -- losing them to an ambush in the war.

They must have respected him too; with the kind that is earned and not demanded. Johnny can tell the level of affection and loyalty he had for his men, and he can't imagine living with the idea of being the only one alive when the men you commanded all died.

He sobers; this is not a scary story -- it's a sad one. A tale of multiple tragedies, and he's very sure Jack's sanitised what happened during the war as much as he could. He sobers, sympathy written clear on his features as his brow knits. His blessing for the month had involved a whammy of empathy, and he feels for the people in the story. The man with his wife, Jack, who wanted to deliver the bad news himself, the idea of a necklace.

Johnny traces the rim of his glass, studying Jack's expression -- he looks softer here, not full of jagged edges and sharp angles like the first time they had met. ]

Is the necklace thing true? [ Jack doesn't seem like the type of guy who would lie about his men dying. ] I hope it is.

[Jack studies him, watches the wheels going around in his head as he digests the story. It reminds him that Johnny can actually be pretty astute, thoughtful too. There's a warmth to him, something that has nothing to do with his flames. Jack can only wonder what that feels like.

He smiles gently at the question, pouring himself another drink, pausing just long enough to say one thing before he downs it.]

I hope it is too.

Huh, that's just more depressing.

[ Johnny's brows are knitting. He's thinking of a young man with a dead wife, dying in a war -- he must have been so afraid and so alone, and this whole line of thinking is depressing as hell. He raises his glass nonetheless, and clinks it with Jack's pretty much unilaterally. Right, enough mopey and sad thoughts. ]

Anyway, let's drink to your men. I bet they were really cool and awesome guys, so may they rest in peace, and get their fill of girl angel tail. Or boy. Doesn't matter. Down the hatch!

[ He drains it in one go, the liquor burning when it goes down. ] Whoo! That was a good burn.

[Jack raises his brows at him. He didn't tell him that it wasn't true, he just isn't saying that it is either. But what a hopeful, if somewhat creepy, story it would be.

He's surprised by Johnny's toast for a few reasons, the first being that he'd care enough to toast his dead men at all. Jack watches him with an uncertain expression, glass still in hand even after the other man has downed his.

And then Jack laughs, a soft sound as he lowers his head.]

You defy explanation.

I will accept that as a compliment. For future reference, 'great' and wonderful' work for me too.

[ Johnny's grin is cheeky as he refills his glass, gesturing to Jack's. ] Drink up! Is it my turn for a spooky story?

My god, you're really enjoying this.

[Jack doesn't think that most people are the bar actually do. They're either too scared of the stories, think they're ridiculous, or they're only doing it in hopes of getting a blessing.

He sighs, but smirks at him.]

It's your turn.

Life's too short not to enjoy the moment, buddy.

[ Because this is all in good fun, right? What's the point of going through the motions when you can have fun doing it? Jack looks at him like he's never met anyone quite like him before, and Johnny decides that he's quite flattered. He pats him on the shoulder, before thinking hard on what he plans to say next. ]

All right, here's a short one. [ He turns serious. ] My daughter won't stop crying and screaming in the middle of the night. I visit her grave and ask her to stop, but it doesn't help. ]

[Jack swallows some of the liquor before pointing at him.]

See, you shouldn't be telling stories like that. Not when you could actually have a daughter.

[He has no doubt that Johnny's the type who got around.]

Oh.

[ Johnny freezes. ] Oh, that's terrifying for me.

[ Because he doesn't want to be a baby daddy. That's freaky, ok? ] Wait, what about you? No baby mama problems?

[Jack nearly chokes on his drink, the expression of fear on Johnny's face is just that genuine. He's still smiling as he sets the glass down on the bar and slides it away. He hasn't always heeded his limits, but he's had just enough for one night.]

No. [He draws the word out, shaking his head.] I shudder to think what my mother would've done if a girl had claimed to be a 'baby mama'.

[ Johnny makes a face. It starts to sound like his mother's the one that calls the shots around the palace -- and he won't be surprised if that conjecture's true.

Still, he's entertained that Jack's somehow amused by him. Is he thinking of dozens of precociously adorable little baby Johnnys running around and wreaking havoc? Who knows? ] What, gotta keep the royal pedigree pure?

[Jack just stares back at him, because he's not wrong, but it sounds even more terrible when he says it out loud.]

There's no end to what people would do to get close to us, methods they would use. A child would be no exception.

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fulminants - 2016-08-30 13:30 (UTC) - Expand

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