officerzeppelin: (Cheery)
Dean ([personal profile] officerzeppelin) wrote in [community profile] uploadedmain2018-10-29 08:15 am

Those aren't magic fingers.

WHO: Ariadne & Dean, Open
WHAT: Old pals, catchin' up on fun times at the mall!
WHERE: Bridgeville Mall, starting off at some massage chairs
WHEN: Week Four
NOTES: Anyone at the mall is welcome to join them. Should be pretty tame, but there may be body horror if they violate the terms of their role.



Dean had stopped somewhere around the end of week two asking why the events in the mall were what they were. He'd now seen Spider-Man 3 six and a half times, so he just assumed this was just some level of Hell he hadn't been privy to before. He wasn't enjoying himself, per se, but as far as Hell dimensions went, the mall wasn't that bad. It was inconvenient, sure, what with the little head pictures and random rain (and the monsters outside), but for a change, he wasn't surrounded by death and no one was depending upon him. He missed his brother, but he was also grateful Sam wasn't trapped there with him. As much of him that wished Sam would rescue him also hoped his brother would just move on. Dean could survive here - the food court alone was enough reason to stay.

And there were other reasons. He'd met a few decent people over the course of the month, though he couldn't tell if they just came and went because it was surprising how few "real" people he'd actually met. He'd considered the mall could be some kind of stopover on the way to real Hell (or maybe even Heaven), but if that was the case, Dean couldn't tell why he hadn't been sent on his way. Though to be fair, maybe whatever made that choice didn't know what to do with him. Dean certainly wasn't conventionally "typical".

So it was a bittersweet surprise when he ran into Airy again a full three weeks after they arrived. He was eyeing up a vending machine near one of the banks of massage chairs, weighing the satisfaction he'd gain from either a bag of hot Cheetos or Reese's Pieces when he saw her rounding a corner. He abandoned his critical decision to wave her down.

"Hey! Airy!" So maybe he sounded a little more exuberant than was strictly necessary, but Dean was growing bored (and a little lonely), so a friendly face brought him more joy than he wanted to admit to himself.
demonicbeauty: (Interested)

Airy/Dean

[personal profile] demonicbeauty 2018-10-29 04:52 pm (UTC)(link)
There was no one in the multiverse who loved the new and novel more than Ariadne. But even her unending supply of curiosity was starting to wane, after three weeks wandering the same hallways. She'd made a few furtive attempts to leave, to be sure. But all of them had ended in an abrupt return to the confines of the mall. The air just didn't smell right out there. She wished she had a more firm and concrete way to explain it. All she could settle for, though, was the way the hairs on the back of her neck rose whenever she caught a whiff of the outside.

So she'd started inventing ways to keep herself from getting stir-crazy. Thanks to a few kind strangers she'd met over the last three weeks, she had clothes and boots and a lovely bag to carry over her shoulder. And because she didn't want her skills to atrophy, she'd started to fill the bag with little items she'd borrowed from the stores without asking, when the too-friendly clerks' backs were turned.

Nothing terribly thrilling. A pretty rock. A kerchief. A kitchen knife. In her experience, anything could prove useful at any time.

She smiled when she caught Dean's scent and saw him by one of the glass boxes of food. At least, she assumed it was food. It had words like 'chewy' and 'cheesy' and the like. She hadn't managed to get them to work yet.

"Hello," she said, dipping into a curtsy before she could stop herself. Old habits. But you didn't curtsy to a friend, did you? She tried to cover it by checking the laces on her boots.
(deleted comment)
demonicbeauty: (Confused)

[personal profile] demonicbeauty 2018-10-29 06:47 pm (UTC)(link)
She frowned a little, reaching into her bag to pull out the walkie talkie she'd picked up. "There isn't anyone inside of this," she explained, not sure if Dean had this sort of device in his world, "but sometimes, there are voices. Coming from somewhere away from here."

Not terribly helpful voices, she supposed. But it was a fascinating change of pace.

She only hoped that her message might still somehow find a way to her aunt. But that didn't seem likely somehow.

In fact, she couldn't even begin to assess the probabilities. The variables were unreal.
demonicbeauty: (Sad)

[personal profile] demonicbeauty 2018-10-29 07:26 pm (UTC)(link)
The strange man she'd spoken with the other week had attempted to explain it all to Ariadne, but she had to admit that it made a lot more sense now that she saw what Dean was doing. A clever device. If not a little clumsy. The Elves had something similar. Telepathy tiles. Which, unlike these things, didn't share the messages out loud with anyone who happened to be passing by.

But Alastrians and Humans weren't much for telepathy, anyway. It was an adequate substitute.

Clearly invented by Humans.

"I tried to reach Aunt Lysia on it," she admitted, tucking it back into her bag. "I guess it doesn't reach that far."

[ooc: No worries!]
demonicbeauty: (Thoughtful)

[personal profile] demonicbeauty 2018-10-29 07:55 pm (UTC)(link)
She wasn't at all convinced of it, but then again, she wasn't looking to be. Ariadne didn't believe in telling pretty lies. The ones she told were generally downright ugly. So she just smiled absently and gave him a little nod. Hope was good. They had that, at least.

"I think there are maybe twenty or so like us here," she said. "You know, not going around like this..."

She let her eyes go hazy and did a reasonable impression of the glossy-eyed patrons and customers with nothing to say. "Have a wonderful day," she said in a flat, empty tone. Then she blinked back to herself and shrugged. Still no good word for them, whatever they were.
demonicbeauty: (Confused)

[personal profile] demonicbeauty 2018-10-29 11:07 pm (UTC)(link)
It was a thoughtful question and Ariadne decided to give it a good deal of thought before she answered. But, of course, the second he asked, she already knew. Slowly, she nodded. "It feels like..." Oh. How to do this while still pretending to be his friend? She mulled over the most remote of kingdoms she'd visited, selecting the absolutely worst one. "It feels like Ruatha," she said. "In the days before the Red Dragon crossed the border. When the whole kingdom was under siege. Everyone was just waiting for the bottom to fall out."

Which was how Valeria felt now. But, of course, Dean would know that. And Ariadne didn't like to talk that way about home. As if there wasn't any future left.

There was a future. There were one million eight hundred and ninety six possible futures. And at least a few of them were perfect.

"Yes," she said. "It does. But what?"
demonicbeauty: (Uncertain)

[personal profile] demonicbeauty 2018-11-01 12:56 am (UTC)(link)
Honestly, it took everything in Ariadne's power not to ask what 'moose-like' meant. Did he have antlers? Probably not. More likely, it was just a figure of speech. Ariadne was terrible with figures of speech. But best not to ask. She would know what her dear friend's brother was like.

She squatted down on the floor, in front of one of the other chairs. Her ill-gotten booty clanked in the bag. "It's like a new kind of torture, I think," she said. "The worst part of being in a dungeon is always the waiting. Listening to the sounds of other prisoners on the rack. But here? Here, we don't even know if they have a rack or something worse. Our imaginations can conjure up anything and we just...don't know."

Psychological warfare. It was a curious concept.

But who was waging war against them? The Red Dragon was the greatest monster in Ariadne's life, but as far as she could tell, no one knew who he was. This was something--or someone--new.
demonicbeauty: (Interested)

[personal profile] demonicbeauty 2018-11-02 12:26 pm (UTC)(link)
She thought she sensed a change in his pulse, but she couldn't be sure. Indeed, her own imagination was definitely playing tricks on her. Not to mention the fact that the abilities she relied upon so heavily back home were failing. She was beginning to distrust herself, which was, indeed, a horrifying thing.

"I suppose it's possible," she said. "But wouldn't that also mean that the opposite was true? If we weren't afraid, things would stop being scary?" She paused. "Of course, I don't know how you go about convincing yourself not to be afraid."

Whistle a happy tune?

That felt too facile. No matter how much she enjoyed music.