ataraxion | ( 003 ) V O I C E.

Entry tags:

( 003 ) V O I C E.

[ Let's be honest, "fucked off" is a huge understatement. Oxford is walking and talking, stomping along the corridors of the Tranquility, irritated by how familiar he finds it now. It's a tactical move, of sorts. If he's going to cope with the space induced headache, he's going to do it in the mopey privacy of his own room, and certainly not the locker rooms. ]

It seems that I was under some misguided delusion that perhaps maybe one jaunt in space would be more than enough for one lifetime, but no. Here I am, once again, covered in this obscene blue goo and - even better - this time I have been denied my clothes. This damned heap of futuristic junk has an abominable sense of humour, providing me with nothing but cufflinks, a pair of shoes and, worst of all, a damned tie. The sheer audacity of this set-up simple has no bounds.

[ The stomping stops, just for a moment, emphasising Oxford's little pause for thought. ]

How accessible are the airlocks here? I've a strong temptation to see what an Asprey tie looks like drifting around the vast vacuum of space- [ he stops for a second; the thought of the endless darkness surrounding them at this moment makes his head pound that much harder and a certain nausea bubble in the pit of his stomach ] -ah, in all its royal blue glory.

[ S I G H. ]

Good day to you, Tranquility. How lovely it is to make your acquaintance once again.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Give me a few days and I'll be looking rosy as ever, don't you worry.

Worried? [The question is followed so closely by a snort of dark amusement that Oxford could be forgiven for thinking Dean may actually be trying his best not to genuinely lose his temper. It's been a rough week.]

This question has never been more freakin' appropriate but... what the hell kinda planet did you just come from?

I can't quite tell if you're actually asking me, or if that's another one of your juvenile attempts at an insult to imply that I am either not human or from some bizarre planet that doesn't quite comply with your preferred responses to your other juvenile remarks.

[ Come on, Dean, you definitely missed these conversations. ]

I'm not dumb enough to think if I was askin' I'd get a straight answer outta you either way. [Screw you, Oxford. Dean's this close to reaching dangerously high blood pressure levels as it is.

Though... that might have been a genuine question. One that's actually giving Dean something to focus on rather than how angry he feels. He's just lacking some ass to kick right now.]

Well, before jumping to conclusions maybe you might consider actually asking me a straight question first. Who knows, you might be surprised with the answer.

[ He sighs, a little theatrically and a little with actual frustration. Interacting with Dean is like pulling teeth. ]

I went home, Winchester, which happens to be a fairly normal looking London town on a fairly normal looking planet Earth. No sudden trips to other intergalactic hunks of metal, no alien encounters, just home.

[It takes a considerable about of effort for Dean not to rise to the bait and snap a smart-assed answer that would end the conversation instantly. He takes in a deep breath in through his nose and closes his eyes for a second to try and deal with how hard he wants to punch the wall.

When he finally speaks again his voice sounds painfully tight and controlled, like he's having to work double-time to actually make this into a conversation rather than an argument.]

So you went home and now you're back? Did you remember anythin'?

[ Oxford's immediate instinct is to be difficult and facetious, to tell Dean that yes, he remembered being abducted by a spaceship from either the future or another dimension when he returned to dear old Earth, and that he had spent the past month madly scouring the globe for someone he classed as reasonably sane who would believe him (spoilers: these sorts of people, Oxford suspects, are a rare find), but he manages to hold back the urge. He goes on quite calmly, and seriously. ]

About the Tranquility? Nothing. Everything came back as soon as I woke up here again.

[This conversation is so foreign that Dean has to take a moment to iron out the awkward uncertainty in his voice before he speaks again. When he does he's still doing a decent job of keeping an even tone.]

Twice. Whatever's responsible for this picked you twice. 'm guessin' you don't remember what you were doin' right before you got sent back the first time?

I wasn't doing anything at all, as far as I recall. I followed the standard procedure for the jump, and yet when I woke I was in my own bed, and this place wasn't even a half-remembered dream. It was compeltely gone from my memories.

[ He pauses. ]

I don't believe I can help anyone figure out how to get back to their respective worlds. I'm sorry.

[That awkward weight in his stomach is only made heavier by the soberness of this whole conversation. Suddenly Dean feels vulnerable at being so transparent in his questions, even if it's a logical line of inquiry. He clears his throat and shrugs a shoulder that Oxford can't see.]

No, you're good. You're good. I'll let you off this time. [The comeback falls so short of being a comeback that it sounds as genuine as it is. Honestly? Dean's motivations for getting back to Earth are so far beyond covering up at moments that flit past every now and then. He is as heartbroken as he sounds sometimes. Today it's within hearing range of Oxford and that makes him feel nauseous and uncomfortable. He doesn't know a single person outside of Cas who wouldn't use that against him, even as a joke. The guards are hauled back up, the edge in his tone plainly defensive.]

Whatever.

[ Now, Oxford wouldn't claim to understand anything that might be going through Dean's mind right now, nor would he take a chance to sift through said mind even if he was presented with an easy chance to do so. He won't ask, either, because he's no fool. Just because he and Dean are both hurting in some way does not mean that they are on the same page, or that either of them wants to speak to the other about it. Oxford doubts very much that Dean is much of a talker at times like these, if this conversation is anything to go by. ]

This place isn't kind to any of us, Winchester. If there was one person here with even the slightest inkling of how to get back, I'm sure they would either say so - or your dogged determination would make you the first to know. [ Oxford exhales, and it's not quite a laugh but there's a faint trace of it there. ] I wouldn't even put it past you to be the one to find out.

[ He's trying to help, a little, even though he's wary that with Dean it could go either way, to help or to hinder. ]

[Still feeling too exposed to either be on form or accepting of the break he's being offered, Dean does what he always does when he feels like his cover has been blown. Growling his annoyance his hand tightens around the device he's holding, material cracking slightly under the sheer force.]

Don't. You just sound like more of a douche than usual. [He's referring to the way Oxford is trying not to highlight what just happened. Like that little slip up didn't just happen. If there's one thing Dean can't stand it the tiniest, faintest drop of an implication of pity. Though now they've had this conversation Dean knows he can't take it back. Oxford now has more of an insight than he should and not for the first time he wishes he could wind back time or inflict amnesia.]

Oh, for fuck's sake. [ You should be proud of that, Dean, not many people bring out bad language in Oxford, but it's a moment of sheer frustration. Though he very much expected a negative response, to receive it is still incredibly irritating all the same. ] You're rather a dickhead yourself, has anyone ever told you that? Fine, fine, if ever there is a moment where you decide to actually show that there might be a decent human being with reasonable feelings deep down inside, I will take very specific measures to point it out.

[ Dean isn't the only one who is hurting because of this stupid ship. Cambridge's absence hangs over Oxford's head like a dark cloud, but Oxford will be damned if he allows Dean to see that, not now. He won't make the same mistake, the same slip in his composure. ]

Well cry me a goddamn river. You know what? I like it this way. Call me an asshole. I couldn't care less. [Dean's voice has dropped low both in volume and pitch. He's a jerk and he knows it, but everything else Oxford says hits a nerve in a way he doesn't know how deal with outside of lashing out. The truth is that sometimes he'd give anything to not feel, to not care what the hell goes on, not on the ship or back home. He just can't bring himself to let go of that responsibility, that feeling like no matter how hard he tries nothing is good enough. As far as he's concerned he owes every single one of these people, Oxford included, whatever he's got to keep them as safe as he tries to keep the people he meets back on Earth. But that's a little too close to wearing that already ruined heart on his sleeve.

The point they've arrived at now has left Dean all sorts of stranded and though he wants nothing more than to pretend like this never happened -with Oxford of all people- he won't be the first person to admit defeat and cut the line.]

What exactly was it you wanted to do, man? Braid each other's hair? Yeah, this place is a joke. We're all up here together and that's just awesome. But as far as makin' friends and playin' nice goes? I'll do what gets the job done and nothin' else. [Damaged? Dean? Really?]

I'm not asking you to talk to me - frankly, at this rate, I simply could not care less what problems you have. [ There's a much harder note in Oxford's voice, a sort of anger that he hasn't heard from himself in a long while. He doesn't want him and Dean to see eye to eye, he doesn't want anything from him - except perhaps for Dean to stop taking everything he says as an insult, because it's getting to a point where Oxford simply can't be bothered to attempt civility with him. What's the point? A handshake would probably be treated as a death threat, given the way they act around each other. Oxford doesn't have either the time or patience to try with someone like that. ]

The "lone ranger" act you have going on is absolute bollocks, though, I'll tell you that. I didn't say what I said to get on your nerves or take the piss, I said it because I thought something rang true in it, and now I'm not so sure. You aren't the only one who wants a way out of this, and going off on someone for being aware of that isn't going to help you, it will alienate you and just make it harder for all of us.

[When Dean snorts there's no humor in the sound. It sounds as cold and hard as he's capable of and all because Oxford, of all people, has managed to get closer to the truth of Dean Winchester than almost every other person on his ship. He pulls back as hard as he can from all emotions that are currently running out of control and with the briefest of pauses he buries them all back down where they belong.]

Tell someone who gives a damn. [With that he cuts the line, device flung across the room in plain and simple temper.]

[ DEAN WINCHESTER YOU ARE AN IMPOSSIBLE LITTLE SHIT ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( 003 ) V O I C E.

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

Re: audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio; encrypted 95%

audio; encrypted 95%

audio; encrypted 95%

no subject