ataraxion | video; 001

[Of all the places Dean figured he’d wake up, submerged in a freaky Matrix-style pod filled with liquid wasn’t one of the top contenders. He’s woken up in far worse situations before and though that should be a comfort it’s not. All of this is supposed to be over...

What follows his rude re-entry into consciousness is a slick (literally) routine, old habits and what he knows mix, eyes, ears and hands checking out the entire medical bay. The scalpel he ends up with is more chance than anything and, though he’s got nowhere to stash it yet without risking serious injury, he keeps his grip on it tight. He has nothing else to go by aside from an itch inside his arm and it’s not until he twists it over to scratch that he reads the number tattooed into his skin. 124.

Another minute passes as he tries to figure out how stopping the apocalypse has anything to do with this, and he half considers the idea that he’s actually dead at least three times before the number and the lockers suddenly make sense. He finds 124 and opens it, stares inside at the weirdass Star Trek uniform and tries not to react to the keys he can see very clearly next to a lighter, a pack of beef jerky and his hunting knife. He’s not going to think about his baby, alone in a graveyard without him.

Once the uniform is grudgingly pulled on, his own belongings concealed in various places around his body, the device he doesn’t recognize is scooped up and flipped over twice in his hands, powered up and snorted at when it tells him to go to the blue lift. That ain’t happening anytime soon. Instead he’s messing around with every single button until he’s told he’s broadcasting to a network. Awesome.]

Who the hell’s in charge around here? And who wants to explain why I’ve got a number tattooed into my goddamn arm? I swear to that douche upstairs, if this has anythin’ to do with any of you feathery assholes I will kick your asses from here to... whatever.

I have no idea how I got here. I have a number in my arm and right now, for all I know, I’m in some kinda concentration camp for guys who the universe thought it hadn’t crapped on hard enough or long enough. Anybody with answers? I’ll trade you strips of my beef jerky for information. Maybe.

[The feed cuts out here, though anybody who’s anywhere close when he realizes where he is? Be prepared for expletives like you’ve never heard before.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Oh, awesome. A kid's here, too.]

Angels. Uh, sorry, kid. Your mom or dad around? [No, he really couldn't be more condescending right now. In his defense, he thinks she's lost and possibly in danger.]

[Allow a moment of confusion to flicker on her face, before she shakes her head. ]

Where my parents are, or if I even have them, is irrelevent at this time. [ a pause. </small] what are angels?

[He's pretty sure he's never met a little girl who doesn't know what angels are. Unfortunately, in real life, they aren't fluffy little cherubs all zipping around in diapers.]

A pain in my a-- uh. They're these annoying... things. With wings. And a har- a preference for interfering where they shouldn't.

[He's almost proud of how mostly child-friendly that response was.]

[ Judging from the look Chase is giving, and the way she leans forward, this is obviously a very important question: ]

Are they blue?

Blue? Kid, I'm talking about angels. Not the Smurfs.

[There's a pause and then, when he realizes this is apparently important, he clears his throat and tries to be serious.]

No. They look like humans. Like us.

Hnnn. [ Disinterested. She's forgiven Dean. For now. ]

Well, to answer your questions as best I can, sir, there seems to be a vessel that's capable of interplanetary, inter-dimensional travel or teleportation and has brought us all here for some reason, including these. [ She holds up her arm with her tattoo showing. ]

And they appear to change our appearances, at the very least some of us.

[Of all the things Dean's seen in his life, for some reason a kid with a tattoo inked into her arm is slightly jarring. Who'd tattoo a kid?

He clears his throat and tries to pretend like he understands half of what she just said about inter...things.]

Whose appearance changed? [That doesn't sound right, either. Not even a little bit.]

Mine, for one. [ Her arms are crossed, and she's trying not to sound slightly annoyed--it's not your fault, Dean. Chase just isn't sure what you're macho-man attitude really is. ]

And you usually look like...?

I'm four. [ Which is strange, considering she looks about 11 ]

Somewhere between where you were before and here you aged years?

[ She nods. ]

From what I've gathered, there's a vast majority of those on board that aren't human that have had their appearance altered as such. I suppose, logistically, aging up is not so far-fetched. However, it still begs the question as to why.

...and what four-year old talks like you do?

[ She shrugs, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She's gotten a lot of that, lately, and attitude won't help. ]

Ones that come from where I'm from. [ Yup, have a lie. ]

Where the hell do you come from? Planet Einstein?

Heaven's Fence. Yourself? [ Nope, not picking up on sarcasm. ]

Earth. [Though he's spent some time in both Heaven and Hell. ...Hell he knows a little better.]

Where four-year olds don't care about anythin' past Toys 'R' Us.

video; 001

video;

[video]

video;

[video]

no subject

[ video ]

video;

[ video ]

video;

[ video ]

video;

video;

video;

[ video ]

video;

[ video ]

video;