𝐼𝑛 𝐻𝑒𝑙𝑙, 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑦 ( open )

[righteously]

Who: Dean Winchester & Open.
When: April 1 - early May.
Where: Aquila; Cadens; The Horizon;
What: Demon shenanigans part 1 — featuring hobo'ing through the Horizon, hiding out in Aquila, and then returning to the Free Cities.
Warnings: Rated R for sexual content, demonic violence, psychological abuse, and suicidal ideation.

𝐻𝑒𝑙𝑙'𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑠, 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠-𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑠, 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑠
𝐼𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛'𝑡 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡, 𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑟𝑡, 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑠𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑟𝑡, 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑡, ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑎 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒
𝐴𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑠, 𝑖𝑛 𝐻𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑦
𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑔𝑜 𝑛𝑜 𝑓𝑢𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟
𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑑 𝑜𝑓, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑔𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑟
𝑃𝑢𝑠ℎ, 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑣𝑒, 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑢𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑
𝑂ℎ 𝐿𝑜𝑟𝑑, 𝐼 𝑎𝑖𝑛'𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢
𝑀𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒'𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟
𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟
𝐵𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑘𝑛𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟
𝑂ℎ 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑒, 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼'𝑚 𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑑𝑜

Comments

[righteously]

( As it so happens, bravery edging on stupidity is his middle name. Or rather, it was, when he had a soul and wasn't a damned creature from Hell. Now, maybe it's just bits of roll-over personality disguising what is, in all actuality, boredom and a flagrant disregard for danger or consequence. When you know you can't die, in or out of the Horizon, you tend to get a little loosey mcgoosey like that.

He does continue walking — probably in the opposite direction she'd intended. Toward her, at a slow saunter, catlike. The smile that curves around his lips is more fond and familiar than it has any right to be. )

I could have a purpose. ( He supplies, so innocently it wraps right back around to suggestive again. ) Or we could play a game. I guess something about you. If I'm wrong, you win, and I'll leave. But if I'm right...

( He sticks around a while.

Eyebrow waggle — what do you say, sister? )

[vixening]

[ it's not that she has much of an issue with who it is he used to be. bravery and stupidity go hand in hand, sure, but it's the self-righteousness of it that would have turned her off. as it stands, though, she doesn't sense any of that from him. if anything, she senses something almost the opposite - can read it in the smooth movement of his walk.

he smiles, and the curious tilt of her brow sharpens into something...nearly challenging, actually. she lets him continue to walk towards her, but the defensive anger she'd felt at first is no longer pulled tight enough to snap. that isn't to say the inherent danger, the swirling of chaos and the control over the very space she holds has lessened at all.

she really doesn't care to play games, and if she were feeling any more impatient she would blast him clear out of her domain the moment he stepped in close enough, but there is a waggle to his brow that has her snorting. so that's what it is, then? her eyes scan over him, as if she's actually looking at him for the first time since he arrived and trying to decide if it's even worth it. if he's worth it. ]

And if you're right? [ she's decided that he's worth it enough, seeing as he's still standing here. ] What will you do then?

[righteously]

( At her question, his lips quirk up a little higher. It's a sign that she's interested in playing ball, and that's all he needs to encourage him. His answer is a tip of the head and a teasing little shrug that reads guess you'll find out if it happens. )

I guess...

( He starts in a slow, thoughtful drawl. As he speaks, he slowly circles her. Studying her, telegraphed contemplation on his face — entirely false. He already knows what his guess is. )

That you... are bored. I guess that you're surrounded by a bunch of limp-dicked assholes, and maybe one out of all of them can actually do something worth about... twelve and a half minutes of your time.

[vixening]

[ yennefer is still deciding what she wants to do with him - the prospect of all this intrigues her, a change from her routine in a way that most aren't able to do. and there is something about him - a shift in the air, a presence of something dark and controlled and off - which only further intrigues her.

and it really does toe that line, the fact that she could just as easily forcefully remove him from her domain if she wanted. that with a flick of her wrist she could toss him through a portal that leads just about anywhere else. here, where she has access to her full chaos because anything in the horizon can be done, it doesn't really matter to her who or what he is.

but the seconds do pass, and her curiosity remains just piqued enough. so much that even as he circles her, she feels no need to follow his walk. no need to watch his every step. ]

And what would you know of boredom? [ which isn't a yes or a no, technically, but still he remains which she supposes is answer enough. his assessment of the limp dicked assholes that he assumes surrounds her back at thorne isn't actually true, and she knows she could say as much, but the prospect of this intrigues her.

and it isn't like he's hard on the eyes, either. ]

Because if you're looking to prove a point, I can tell you that your twelve minutes has yet to begin.

[righteously]

( He knows of boredom because he's awash with it. He doesn't sleep. He only eats for pleasure. He has a lot of free time and he's trapped in the fucking dark ages, in a faction that knows his face and therefor puts a leash on his desires and whims lest his reputation draw in exactly the people he's avoiding. He's so god damn bored.

The only thing that fills that endless stream of time filled with nothing is drinking, and fucking.

And really, it's the latter he's aiming to do here with her.

So his answer is to arch an eyebrow faintly, and throw out an offer: )

My twelve minutes starts the second somebody's clothes hit the ground. You get to pick what goes first.

[vixening]

[ she understands the feeling - decades upon decades where the mundane feels less and less important as time goes on. a reminder of how little humans needs, how unnecessary their wants can be. she has been forced to sit at a court and play pet to too many men, and for what?

abraxas has been a change of pace in a lot of ways, but once again yennefer finds herself shacked to a game of politics she couldn't give two shits about. to a contained, repetitive group of faces. while the summoned might fade in and out, and she does have her connections with some - it rarely feels like enough.

but this one, this one she can feel it. can sense it in the air. it's her domain, which means her old chaos, her old abilities (to a point) are still at play - which means that she can sense it on him. can almost taste it in the air. there's something very different about him, and perhaps that's all she really needs. ]

Somebody's? [ her brow arches, and a decision is made. yennefer turns and steps into his path, directly up to him. she has to tilt her face up to him slightly, but that is hardly new for her, and it hardly does much in terms of shifting any understanding of power here.

after her ascension, after her twisted spine and broken limbs had been righted, her reflexes had always been good. with the aid of her chaos, too, it happens in a matter of moments - she reaches forward, and his belt is undone, snapping as she tugs it free of whatever trousers he'd been wearing.

she steps back and takes the belt with her, her fingers curled around it like she had them wrapped around the head of a snake. her expression is a new mixture now; of curiosity, of challenge, of an unspoken threat. do not bore me.

yennefer holds out the belt to her side and, without looking, drops it to the grass beneath them. ] Your time has begun.