kickingand: (pic#10039957)
Dean Winchester ([personal profile] kickingand) wrote in [community profile] gameofmana2016-09-16 01:37 pm

i've been up and down in prison

Who: Dean Winchester & YOUUU
What: waking up at Home and being confused out of his mind
Where: Home!
When: morning sometime
Other: talk of Hell & not overly graphic mentions of torture. also, prose or brackets are welcome!


Dean doesn't have a clue as to where he is. Granted, he doesn't have a clue as to what's going on altogether, but that would be said no matter where it was he was waking up. Because the thing is, he isn't supposed to be here. A thing that likely everyone said upon waking up here, but Dean isn't supposed to be anywhere but Hell. It's a thing he can't comprehend as he wakes up with a start and looks around to find himself not on the rack. The lack of shrill screams in the distance, the dank nonexistent smells wrecking havoc through his brain, making it impossible to do anything but shudder with anticipation of what tool was going to be used today to pry body parts from his soul, over and over and over--

Giving his head a shake, the place he is now is so opposite of what he's endure for the past years that it's nearly startling. It's beyond startling actually, and Dean doesn't know what to do about it when all he can think is he doesn't deserve it. This place is practically happy and somehow blossoms with an easiness that he can't comprehend, his stomach twisting with confusion and ultimately a sheer disorientation that he's struggling his way through. He hardly knows how to move let alone how to think his way through this and he tries to find his voice to shout for the existence of anyone else here. But it clams up in his throat, refusing to puff out from between his lips and instead makes him want to curl up that much more. It's terrifying and soft all at once and he's rejecting it aggressively, trying to butt himself up against the nearest wall and hide, wondering if this is a new breed of torture. Let him see something happy for two seconds before he's dragged back to the reality that is Hell, brutally laughed in the face by Alistair before the torture continues. A psychological thing, maybe.

He doesn't know.

But eventually, he begins to move.

Slowly, he pushes himself out of the bed, taking one cautious step at at time, moving forward and ducking around corners, peering around the edges of the spacious room and trying to adjust to everything he's seeing. Which unto itself is still just weird - if anything, he should've woken up in a dank motel room. His grave maybe. And some part of his mind wonders if he's been shot up to Heaven finally, in some sort of weird Brazil-esque filing error, but that's just ridiculous.

He's supposed to be in Hell. So what the fuck is going on.

Continuing to move, Dean soon finds himself on the stairway leading downwards, though he glances up for a moment and stares, before deciding that down is best way for now. It isn't as if any of this is truly ominous apart from the fact that he doesn't know why he's here altogether but he has to keep moving, try to figure out what's going on, understand this as best as he can before he finds himself getting tugged straight back to the one place he's actually supposed to be.

"The fuck is this-"

Rough words are finally pulled from his throat, scratchy and hard and he steps even further down, slow going as he tries to take it all in. He just wants to know where he is and why, maybe even find someone here. Or maybe he just wants to be alone for a minute, relish in the lack of pain and death fleeing across his vision, the wholeness of his body and the feeling of his limbs stretching out. It's all odd sensations after too long on the rack, at the hands of demons, souls at the hands of him, and he grit his teeth for a moment, squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to think before he keeps going, pushing himself forward, and finally gives a shout, sounding distant to his own ears.

"-- Anyone here?"
orbislife: screenshot of Zenyatta looking to the side (Your will is strong my friend)

[personal profile] orbislife 2016-09-18 11:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Zenyatta is meditating in the library on the first floor while others did morning rituals, whatever they may be. One of his tasks is keeping the library neat. However, there is nothing out of place, so he is free to spend his time as he likes.

Upon hearing the voice, Zenyatta stops his meditation and pokes his head out the door, looking for whoever is talking. "There is. How may I help you?"
orbislife: screenshot of Zenyatta's peace sign victory pose (Peace be upon you)

[personal profile] orbislife 2016-09-21 06:20 am (UTC)(link)
"C-3PO? I do not know anyone with that name or designation." Zenyatta hums thoughtfully, which does not betray a hint of mischief. The young man appears to be familiar with people made from machine. He steps out fully from the doorway.

"No, but perhaps I could be considered a bootleg Mondatta. I have been mistaken for my late brother before, and he did teach me much. However... no matter if my form is original or bootleg, my true self remains unchanged. I am Zenyatta."
orbislife: screenshot of Zenyatta looking to the side (Your will is strong my friend)

[personal profile] orbislife 2016-09-27 06:19 am (UTC)(link)
Oh... perhaps humor was not the right way to go about this. The young man does not look well, and without the ability to use his Orb of Harmony, Zenyatta worries what might happen should he collapse. "Talking in a hallway is rather uncomfortable... Would you like to sit down? I would like to learn more about this Yoda if you are willing."

Zenyatta feels he is missing a reference here. (The Shambali are not well versed in pop culture, and Zenyatta cannot connect to the internet to find out from here.) However, what is most important is making sure the young man does not hurt himself.
orbislife: screenshot of Zenyatta's balance victory pose (Excellence is its own reward)

[personal profile] orbislife 2016-10-06 06:03 am (UTC)(link)
"Please, follow me." This is not the first time Zenyatta has brought someone to the sitting area, and he doubts it will be the last time. He nods and walks toward the sitting area on the same floor. Taking a crossed legged seat in a chair, Zenyatta tilts his head to the side and gives the young man his full attention.

"Did Yoda teach C-3PO about the true self? Did Spielberg then write about it?"

Zenyatta is, to be honest, just piecing together what tiny bits of information he has and forming a sentence... even if it is algorithms placing nouns and verbs in grammatically correct places without much concern for facts. He knows he may sound ridiculous. Zenyatta does not mind. His curiosity and his desire to put the other at ease takes precedence.