Untitled

It's not too often that a person comes from across to country to investigate stuff like this.

That statement had Katarzyna's brows raise for an instance, a subtle gesture on a face like hers that did not betray her much that it would show a lot of emotion, something that often came in handy in her line of work. Yet, the irritation that she felt underneath that mask was anything but subtle. How much did that detective know? Had she not been subtle while snooping around? She couldn't blame him for watching out for anyone suspicious, after all she had watched him too, but the last thing Katarzyna wanted was to get into trouble with the FBI.

..Perhaps he was talking about another person? Maybe the FBI had collaborated with other nations. They have been cases of such murders outside the U.S. Though, as quickly as the FBI liked to close cases, she somehow doubted it, as the murders in other countries had taken place too many years ago.

The best way to figure shit out was to act natural, play clueless. "So you're collaborating with other countries?"

In a way, she was clueless. She had no idea what the man was hinting at. Perhaps she had interpreted too much into his comment about someone from another country coming to investigate -- she liked to think she was clever enough not to get caught sticking her nose into business that someone might say didn't concern her -- but the whole way he spoke unsettled her. That would do it first time? What did he mean?

"Not awful meeting you either." That was as much of a polite pleasantry as Katarzyna could bring to the table. Too honest for her own sake. "Katarzyna." She introduced herself briefly. "Or Kasia, if you prefer the short version." She never really thought that her first name would be something that people would ask her to repeat or mispronounce, but he wouldn't be the first, so she offered her nickname.

His presence had her reconsider her entire plan; normally she would have called roadside assistance by now, but since he was here and probably had valuable information, it was better to remain in this bar for a while, and she truly needed to unwind after everything. Plus, she had a feeling she could convince the agent to book her a motel room if she sent him the money via PayPal, which was frankly much safer than to get picked up by tow service when this creature was out there.

"Have you worked in this career for long?" He didn't strike to her as older than in his early thirties, and she figured it took a long time to get promoted to the role as FBI, though she had never researched how that system worked.

A lot of that might depend actually on who the hunter and story teller is.

In Dean's line of work he had many different lives and professions. Most of the time he and Sam wore costumes and it was the fact they had to at least know the part they were playing order to actually sell the act.

When he or Sam started asking questions like 'were there any sudden cold spots'? 'Did the temperature suddenly change?', 'did you smell sulfur? 'Did the lights flicker?' 'Did he start acting strange? 'Were there people that might've wanted to hurt them?', ' Did they have any enemies?' Some people depending if whether or not they were caught up in their own emotional turmoil, they'd ask him and his brother if whether or not they were actually FBI agents when they got suspicious about who they really were. He's no FBI. He's just some blue collar everyman from Lawrence, Kansas playing pretend because that was usually how he and his brother got information. Usually.

Again, once he sat here thinking about how she pulled up to the same table with little no hesitance he would wonder if there was something she wasn't telling him. And thankfully, his hunter's instinct weren't too loud toward the point where his brain would prompt him into asking twenty-one questions. But as far as he knows, the American government when it comes to American criminal justice, they were often more heavily centered around just that…American crimes and happenstances. "Only if we have any reason to believe if the criminal or suspect is somehow or in anyway connected with the crimes, if they've traveled to here to the states. Or if we believe the suspect is connected to the crime, we'd look into it."

Filtered answers would do, because you never know who might be listening and who might be watching.

"But nah. Definitely. Most folks might think I'm too much of a stiff or that I'm nosy. But that's just something that comes with the gig." Dean tried to repeat her name back to himself in his head, but the pronunciation didn't even feel right then. "Okay, yeah. I'm gonna call you Kasia. It's a lot easier for me. I don't wanna butcher it all in one take."

This was actually going a little swimmingly much better than he expects. He was kind of suspicious but then again, he was suspicious about everyone and everything. The next thing she asks wasn't something that often comes up in conversation on his fake job. Nonetheless, he would answer. "Yeah. Been a while since I've been an agent. I see everything but then things like this,--just because I'm used to them doesn't mean I'm necessarily always ready for it." And this was thing right here. People got curious about what he's really doing and then they're bold enough to listen. What was he going to do? Lie. That's what all hunters did. And if all else fails, then he would tell the truth. Only if he had to.

BOLD what applies to your muse.

PLACE IN SOCIETY

financial: wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty. (I imagine it depends on before or after his Men Of Letters discovery. At most he's done credit card fraud.)

medical: fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged.

class or caste: upper / middle / working / slave / unsure. (Again, it depends on before or after his discovery that he's a Man Of Letters. I imagine there is a shift of income much after he discovers his family's legacy.)

education: qualified / unqualified / studying./ Dean has a GED.

criminal record: yes/ no.

FAMILY

married - happily / married - unhappily / engaged or betrothed / partnered / single (depends on verse but mostly by default he is single and it is shown in canon while Dean's had a few relationships, those didn't turn out so well for him With Cassie or Lisa. )/ divorced / separated.

has a child or children (Emma, a daughter who is deceased Sam killed her due to her being an Amazon who was trying to kill Dean for ritualistic reasons, I mean it's kinda fair because Dean killed Amy despite promising Sam he wouldn't. It's pretty dark stuff lmfao), but then again it would depend on the verse) / has no children / wants children.

close with sibling(s) / Sam and Adam (Not very close with Adam. The show's writing did him so cold and plus there's John who never told Sam or Dean about Adam. They found out through a ghoul pretending to be him. LAWLS) / sibling(s) is deceased.

orphaned / adopted / disowned /

TRAITS + TENDENCIES

extroverted / introverted / in between.

disorganized / organized / in between.

close minded / open-minded / in between/ set in his ways.

calm / anxious / in between.

disagreeable / agreeable / in between.

cautious / reckless / in between.

patient / impatient (if he doesn't get instant results he feels he'll die but that's because Dean is very dramatic and is often explosive about it/ in between.

outspoken / reserved / in between.

leader / follower / in between.

empathetic / unemphatic / in between/

optimistic / pessimistic / in between/cynical

traditional / modern / in between.

hard-working / lazy / in between.

cultured / un-cultured / in between / unknown.

loyal / disloyal / unknown/

faithful / unfaithful / unknown.

BELIEFS:

monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic/ it kind of depends because for the first few seasons Dean either has no beliefs or he struggles with them.

belief in ghosts or spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care.

belief in an afterlife: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care. / Dean is very aware that Heaven and Hell exists and is very real. He has been Heaven multiple times. He later treats his experience in Hell like a very bad movie review. LOLs.

belief in reincarnation: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care/ okay that might depend because he's seen supernatural entities die only to come back in essence.

belief in aliens: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care.

religious: orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious.

philosophical: yes / no.

OPINIONS

pro-suicide / anti-suicide, but he struggles with self loathing, is often very self-destructive and often has death wishes. / doesn’t know or on the fence.

pro-euthanasia / anti-euthanasia / doesn’t know or on the fence.

pro-choice / anti-abortion / doesn’t know or on the fence.

pro-marriage / anti-marriage / doesn’t know or on the fence.

pro-death penalty/ anti-death penalty / doesn’t know or on the fence.

pro-drug legislation / anti-drug legislation / doesn’t know or on the fence.

pro-murder / anti-murder / doesn’t know or on the fence.

pro-cannibalism / anti-cannibalism / doesn’t know or on the fence.

left wing / right wing / middle / doesn’t know or on the fence/ Dean appears to be very populist or otherwise expresses populist views or behaviors.

SEXUALITY + ROMANTIC INCLINATION

heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual.

sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favourable.

romance repulsed /romance neutral / romance favourable.

sexually: adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious.

potential sexual partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all.

potential romantic partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all.

ABILITIES

combat skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none.

literacy skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

artistic skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

technical skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none.

HABITS

drinking alcohol: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

smoking: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

other narcotics: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

medicinal drugs: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

indulgent food: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

splurge spending: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

gambling: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

tagged by: @detectiveczajkowska

#headcanons #headcanon

“Good thing I can wear whatever I want.” She retorted, a comment graced by a faint snark to it. Was she just being sensitive, or was he making some kind of jab at her outfit being too revealing? Before it started raining buckets, it has been smouldering hot.

“Mhm.” She agreed about the cars. “Just sad that the standard for ‘good’ means not breaking down.” His comment about America made her wonder if it was that obvious she was a tourist. Some people could tell that thing about a person by their body language and other subtle cues before they even opened their mouth. Not that it was hard to tell she didn’t grow up on this continent by the way she talked, or her comment about a cashless economy, though for all someone could know, she could’ve been a naturalized citizen or a visa holder. Someone with a good reason to be here, unlike a tourist, which was a little odd during these times.

As long as she didn’t make her questioning too invasive or weird, or get caught doing some illegal digging, there would be no harm in him knowing, however, if he did. Maybe not.

Enough with the negativity, though. She’d complained enough, and she felt like he wasn’t too much into small talk either, either that or she just sucked at it.

Her lips parted a little in surprise seeing him slide over cash. “Can’t buy me a drink the old-fashioned way?” Katarzyna has never liked accepting favors, seeing herself as someone independent, maybe to the point of stubbornness. Though, his gesture meant that he was receptive, open-minded. A plus, given that she was hoping for answers.

“I can’t turn down vodka though.” She admitted, taking the money. Katarzyna was quick to order herself a shot of pure vodka, returning the change to him. She paused for a moment before settling for a response in regard to his investigation.

“Everyone has heard of the murders, I think. That’s why I was so pissed to be stranded here. You don’t wanna be outside when you don’t know what you’re dealing with. Maybe it’s nothing you hear coming.” A statement that could be read as common sense, being paranoid, or even superstitious, depending on how you took it. Taking a sip of her vodka, it dawned upon her that she hadn’t even thanked him. God, he must think she had terrible manners. “It was kind of you to spare me some cash. Do you have a first name to go with that lovely last name?”

She thought since they were drinking together, there was no need to be so formal, especially since Katarzyna thought she would get more answers if they interacted with each other more casually. Plus, from time to time, people liked how deadpan she was.

"I'm all for people wearing whatever they want. I wouldn't dream of it sounding like some kind of…You know like, there's anything's wrong with that." Sometimes even to Dean it seemed like Dean should lean to shut up. But nevertheless, he hears snark and yet doesn't take it as serious as he felt he might've. He rolled with it. "That's the attitude you wanna go with." He knows he sounds like he's being as equally snarky but for the life of him, that's come natural. He'd be lying if he said he's not looking ar her clothes or how she wore it. He's not subtle. Not very. That wouldn't stop him from trying though. He's not gonna make a move unless he had any reason to believe it was a safe zone.

"They shoot up like you wouldn't believe. It's ridiculous. Sure you didn't need me telling you that." The comment he makes about his own country was more to do with how what he's used to than it was anything to do about her not been from around these parts. Usually Dean's very good faces. (Unless he's been somehow impaired by the supernatural inferences) He's not personally seen or met this person before. Not that Dean could blame her for her disdain of the USA. He's American and he hates it here. Every other country had the right mind about it.

Even though they were having a normal conversation Dean couldn't help this sudden level of self awareness that sprung out of nowhere. Could see why she'd call him out--him dressed all crisp--in a dingy place like this? Dean expected her--and not just her, but anyone-- to instantly be able to spot the lies and that's probably allot do with the fact he's had experience with people pulling the wool over him before he had to chance to do the same to that person. People often brought his act.

He's seen enough weirdness to last him a life time and then some more. There are still things he can't explain. She hadn't seemed weird by comparison to some people he's met. Maybe it was time he could lose the professional approach. Kinda challenging for him that's had it so rehearsed.

"I might've have done it the old fashion way but I didn't wanna come off as sleezey when I'm on the job." He laughs it off to himself inwardly. Dean took the change as she'd given to him. "I didn't think anyone would turn down something like that when presented an opportunity for free drink. Well, kind of free."

"Actually now that I think about it makes a lot of sense. It's not too often that a person comes from across to country to investigate stuff like this. Unless there was every reason for them to believe it started from where they were and the murderer got sloppy." He'd wave a dismissive hand at the latter part of comment. "That would do it first time. I've traveled allot over the U.S. and it's like I'm still not fully prepared. No matter how many times I've done it." That much was very much true. Him and Sam drove just about everywhere, if not actually it was they they did. "Nah. It's no problem. It's terrible not being able to get a good drink when you're parched. I do. It's Ethan. It's nice to meet you."

Things went a lot better than he expected. She seems pretty nice. Now that his brain told him to calm down and the hunter part of his brain stopped acting up long enough for him to see that he was wrong for suspecting everything and everyone. Try telling that to a guy who'd once met a sentient depressed, alcoholic teddy bear. Everything in the life is suspect.

#tbh dean would be the one person who could handle soldier boy >.>#tbt

crucibleofthevampire

Dean Winchester and Soldier Boy.

Ig: maestitiia

"Exactly." The blonde confirmed, failing to mirror the smile, expression still a blank. She wasn't good at this part of fitting in. And, as much as she knew it would make it easier for people to gain her trust, she rarely resorted to it, preferring to be who she is. Even if that was a bit of a stoic, it was an honest one. "Well, not someone," she clarified, meeting his gaze, "unless the sky counts as 'someone'." She quipped dryly, running a hand through her wet hair. It wasn't that the bartender was rude, it was the combination of bad luck all over.

"I didn't think a rented car would break down." Her voice hid the desperation well that came along with being stranded in the middle of nowhere at this time. Everyone knew that it wasn't safe around here, but most people had no idea about the supernatural aspect of the murders. For all Katarzyna knew, she could spend a few seconds outside in the dark and that thing could teleport to be right behind her without making a sound.

"Just a streak of bad luck and no vodka to flush it." Katarzyna commented. "A woman's nightmare." In the literal sense. She would have to call a taxi to get her to a hotel, or she'd be damned, a feeling that intensified as her gaze briefly fell to the newspaper the agent had been reading. She didn't need to look at it for more than a second to know what article he had been looking at. Was he here for work? Who would willingly go to a bar at this time, other than these truckers who did not strike to her as the brightest tools in the shed?

"You're kind of overdressed." Blunt, she should probably figure out a way to work her charms if she was trying to draw information from him. "If you're some kind of health inspector, I think this is your perfect place to investigate." She huffed, a hint of a smile finally gracing her features. Jokes first. Figure out how he ticked. Maybe he'd reveal a bit, and she could go from there

"That makes up for the sour mood." Dean says trying to appear apologetic, though he's a hundred percent he seemed anything but. His imperceptible and otherwise precessional smile gave him away and the look in his eyes probably sold the act even less. He wanted to make jokes however, the other part of him thought now wasn't the time or place for that type of approach. There were social rules and etiquette for being kind to a lady. He's sure that she wasn't the type for fake niceties, but he would try anyway. Despite them not knowing each other. "Sorry to hear that. You might wanna dress properly next time." That sounded cold. Even to him, and he wasn't trying to.

"Oh, yikes. Well, that's the thing about America. All the good cars cost an arm and a leg." He didn't really occur to him that until after he had just said it, that she probably wasn't familiar with idiom. How would his American brain know that? It was impossible for him to be able to know that. Good thing he had his Baby. Dean wasn't going to casually throw that into conversation. Or at all. "But uh, yeah. You have to careful because any old schmoe would do anything to make a quick buck around here. That's how they get you." Wasn't like anything he had just said wasn't true.

"Too bad. Hard drinks mighta made something like being caught in the rain something you'd be too drunk to care long enough until you got into dress in something dry and warmer." Getting the feeling he was failing at small talk, not that he felt compelled to, he'd take out his wallet from the inner lapel of his blazer and and slide over to her a $14.20. He didn't know if it would cover whatever drink she would have been eyeing, but it was the best he could do for being a terrible conversationalist. " If she'd take it, fine. If not--then, eh. At least he tried. She looked like she could use it. He's American and he knew how bad it sucked here at times.

It took a moment for what she next says to hit him. Was it the papers? Was it the way he was dressed? Or that fact that there was evidence of there being another person who had come with him? He immediately starting to think about Sam--and the fact that he probably looked like a sore thumb out of place. So much for remaining subtle. A flicker of realization started to sit in really quick. He'd laugh a staged one, but his genuine boyish, juvenile is what sells enough into seeming believable. At least she was brave enough to call him out.

"Oh, um, uh. I wouldn't say I was..." His eyes darted off towards to side for a brief moment until the right wording came to him and he'd spin his hand a little as though to imitate how one might spin an apparatus. "...would be so much as me being overdressed. It's more like it comes with the custom. A part of the job. FBI. Agent Stillwell." His smile lasts a mirco-second at most, until longer than expected. It was strange that part that he sales became that much real that he's not faking laughing anymore.. "Funny you would say that. A partner and I are investigating a few murders that happened very recently."

giaunt

"Like riddle...? Twas not intended to be being... riddle," Ingvar admitted softly, a hand running through his beard as a frown scrunched his face slightly, sharp creases between the heavy brows. Up until this point in the man's response, he'd remained quiet, for he'd nothing to say nor contribute; if by this being a first he meant that he'd never met anyone like Ingvar before, then that made perfect sense and warranted no further comment. But his explanation being like a riddle? That was unexpected to hear. If only he had some way of showing him what he meant, or if he knew what humans called those strange and frightful machines — the word he sought being, of course, 'automobile'. He was still not entirely certain whether they were living things or not, these automobiles he lacked sufficient vocabulary to describe.

Then he considered what was said after this, and became suddenly and ghastly pale, his great green eyes gaping wide and breath forced from his lungs like a man slugged in the stomach, mouth hanging slightly open in horror.

"You — y-you are — a hunter?" he stammered.

Don't let him be the kind of hunter who hunts giants and other such monsters...! Now worries and what-ifs were beginning to zip about his mind this way and that. His chest ached, heart pounded. The thoughts raced, all panic, complete pandemonium. Among them was the horrible idea that perhaps this hunter was merely making conversation because he wanted him to lower his guard. Maybe getting him to kneel, even though he'd not asked him to do so, was a way to get his heart closer to the ground. With the correct wicked tools in abundance, a human could pull his whole body down prone and bound, and carve it out of him, or impale it with a long spear, or use one of those terrible weapons which made a sound like thunder and tore through the skin without blades and hurt horribly; surely there existed a sort strong enough. It took every ounce of willpower, then, for him not to stand and flee immediately.

His gibbered words scarcely came out a whisper, and he clasped his shaking hands and bowed his head low, begging, "I— I-I am meaning no harm to you, nor any-one...! Do not be harming me; mercy; oh, please...!"

#supernatural rp #supernatural roleplay #spn roleplay #spn rp #horror rp #horror roleplay #indie rp #indie roleplay #independent rp #independent roleplay #asks open #mystery rp #mystery roleplay #dean winchester #dean winchester rp #dean winchester roleplay

It takes a good following few moments before Dean caught his breath. Hands were on both of his knees between pants when he'd give a thumbs up. He's hunched over. "Yeah. Alright. Gotcha. So I was wrong. My bad. But hey, I deserve an 'A' for effort. Or however way that goes..." Well, now Dean felt kind of silly. For all of his assuming and his generally slightly black and white world view sort of thinking kinda drew him back to that answer. Ingvar was in a sum of a matter of words, a lot more innocent. Despite his size. Big or tall didn't always equal to that of danger. His brain had that on default. Like always. "Yeah. I'm a hunter. I ain't gonna do anything to you. Despite how tall you are, I don't think that there's any reason for that. You seem innocent." Maybe there should have been a better way to phrase that. But there's definitely a difference between keeping an opinion to yourself instead of risking that statement in coming off as far more flippant than it's ever meant to be. They were both from two entirely different worlds meaning, that it goes without saying that opinions would vastly differ. Okay, Dean would be lying if he said that he wasn't one to discriminate between monsters and humans. While not always excusable, that sort of conditioning was clearly understandable.

At first, Dean missed the horror that registered on Ingvar's face. But not for long. It was either something he said, something that caused him to be scared of a particular thing even when he didn't know what that thing particularly might been. It's up Dean to figure out which. Dean stands taller, he'd snap when thinking of the contraption that the giant could have met until it came to him. "So...a car? Minus the fire? Something else? Do you mean a car?" 'Stop me if I'm wrong,' he doesn't say.

Dean didn't know what he could have said even on the wordless command. "I'm…" his words started off rather suspended or rather than spacey and his mind needed a moment to be brought up to speed with the rest of him. "I'm doin' peachy. You don't gotta worry about me, man. Really." With whole good following and series of amounted instinctive steps backwards the eldest Winchester head tilts once more after he wasn't as winded as he once had been. Maybe Igvar didn't need to know this, but Dean was--or is, the type of hunter who hunts pretty much everything. Just point him to the right lore book or library, he'd be golden. Right now he didn't need a reason to believe his own life was in danger.

"Hey. Calm down. I'm not gonna hurt you. I know where you mighta got the idea. Sorry if I uh, upset--or--scared you, man. Meant nothin' by it. Dude, you're fiiine."

#giaunt

my dash is very dead and looking for more people to write with and roleplay with. i've finally gotten around to write down some verses. i intend to have one down for demon dean pretty soon.

junkiepunkie

Dean Winchester canonically calling Castiel “sunshine” “devastatingly handsome” and “huggy bear”

Dean Winchester canonically thinking Cas is adorable when he’s asleep in the back of the impala.

Dean Winchester canonically getting angry in the car until Cas innocently looks startled and asks if he’s angry, making him lower his voice and calm down to keep Cas feeling alright.

Dean Winchester canonically needing a “big win” and that win turning out to be Cas.

Dean Winchester canonically referring to people in the endverse as “friends. Cas too”

Dean Winchester canonically panicking when learning Cas had sex with a woman.

Dean Winchester canonically not minding Cas’ hand on him and proximity to him right up until he realises lucifer is possessing him.

Dean Winchester canonically having a VERY different reaction to Sam when they see Cas dressed as a doctor.

Dean Winchester- well, you get the point

#yeah you're gonna have to rip bisexual dean winchester out of my cold dead hands #ooc

Starter for @helleftmarks

To hell with everything. How could a rented car break down in the middle of a fucking road? And why did it need to start raining like buckets just in that exact moment? Not that her being drenched in rainwater was the problem. No, it was still hot enough in the middle of this Louisiana August that a part of her could have felt relieved she had gotten something refreshing if it were not for her immense frustration. Heat was something that she had never been able to tolerate well, though the real danger lied not in the weather, but rather in the fact that it was sundown.

Damn. She shouldn't have been driving around in the first place. Not with everything going on. A young boy's body had been found here in Chalmette just two days ago. At only sixteen, he'd been cut in half. Vertically, crushed tissue along the edges. Just after that man had been cut in half in New Orleans the week before, only horizontally. A type of death that struck Katarzyna as too familiar. There was a pattern.

And it went on, gruesome murders following. Rumors about a serial killer were spreading, and while the assessment wasn't inaccurate, the blonde knew the murderer wasn't human.

The bar looked a lot more like a personal living space than expected. Cozy, but frankly, equally seedy. Unsurprisingly, the clientele consisted of mostly middle-aged truckers giving her more looks than she found comfortable; not many people were willing to go out after everything that had happened. The "cash only" sign hadn't gone unnoticed by Katarzyna, either.

Nor had the man sitting in the back of the room near the jukebox, drinking alone. FBI; she knew that. (Or, well, but that was what he was pretending to be - unbeknownst to her.)

Although her chances were low, maybe she could draw the hint of some useful information out of him. She was doing exactly what she hated when others did it, sitting next to someone when other seats were available, but she wanted something, and she wasn't good drawing attention to herself by smiling. Plus, maybe keeping a federal agent close would keep those questionable men staring holes in her back at bay.

Katarzyna was quick to order what she could afford with the pitifully low amount of cash she had left. Some kind of cheep beer. Regretfully. How miserable she looked, all wet and scrunching her nose at the taste of that liquid. "And here I thought America was the number one country for paying cashless." She commented, not sure if to herself, or the 'FBI agent.'

"That's the second body that was reported to have gone missing and later found." Dean said to himself in quiet voice, his eyes scanning over the newspapers that after awhile, the words seemed to lack meaning or run together. "First by witnesses and now…" The evidence solidified itself in front of him such as obituaries, ancient books which is some of the very first things a hunter might've looked at to gather around when certain clues began to show up. There were also the witnesses and local news reports. So if this monster was cutting it's victims in half then most likely this isn't some sort of specter. Not your average one at the very least, anyway. But so far that's not what it's looking like. The work of a ghost.

Normally when hunters worked on cases and it was the usual they'd work in pairs. Actually, for as long as Dean had known it was just him and his brother Sam. And before it was narrowed down to just him and his father--that was a long time ago. And in the distant past, in fewer cases, it would be Bobby who had taken special excursions with them, rather than just assisting them over the phone. He hadn't much liked getting other people involved in danger when they didn't have to. Especially if they weren't in the life.

Dean happened to have been donning one of his most common, but convincing enough disguises. As an FBI agent. You'd think as many times and as much as a seasoned hunter would see how gruesome or bloody things had gotten, they'd be used to it. Not for Dean. At least he's not entirely numbed out to a life of violence. But it was just Tuesday for him. The normalization of everyday violence was an everyday chore to tick off of his fingers and get done for people like him and Sam. Sometimes, you just can't brandish any old weapon at every lesser being you'd once kill just because you wanted the quickest way out. Monsters wouldn't care that you're tired. What might work against against a demon, wasn't always necessarily going to work against things like angels. The supernatural tended to evolve, they found workarounds sometimes.

It's not too long within about the time Dean's tidying up his makeshift workspace or examining area before an unfamiliar voice caught his attention. And unfamiliar woman he'd not seen before. Should he flash his badge? Should he ask questions? Was someone sent for him? But then, his brain did well to tell him to relax. And so he did. It was thanks to his father that he had a detective's mind. He put on an already mentally rehearsed smile. "I take it you haven't been here five minutes and someone's probably already pissed you off." An assumption. "Hello to you too."

it's going to take me a little bit to get to things but i have been doing the drafts that i have.

#ooc

frankslangdons

supernatural ⇨ 01.01

dean winchester

#tbt

giaunt

"Yea. Most serious."

Some of the tension left Ingvar's posture as by some miracle the human understood what he meant, and furthermore did not insult him for it. He drew a deep breath through the mouth, then continued to speak, his voice soft, yet resonant, the cadence of speech like sea waves.

"Your presence is meaning that I have been becoming noticed by some-one" he said. It was not intended to be seen as back-handed nor dismissive of the question. "... I am making great effort to be remaining out of trouble and sight, away from roads dark as night which are bearing frightful metallic steeds which produce light without flame, run without legs, and scream without mouth. Few humans... are coming here."

He paused. The evening breeze rustled the coniferous boughs of the surrounding sea of trees. Beams of apricot-colored light from the setting sun which was in the slow process of receding behind a distant peak spread out through the maze of trunks and branches like incorporeal fingers. The giant lifted his gaze to the heavens, then his own hands, and frowned, as though perhaps attempting to calculate something; then he looked back to the stranger.

"I am not having 'binoculars' which you seek, but..."

Ingvar moved one of his boots back, then stooped down. There came one earth-shaking thump upon the earth as one of his knees met the earth. Try as he might to make no ruckus nor sound whatsoever when he knelt like this, it was impossible for a giant to remain silent, nor close to silent, even with subdued movements made with the utmost care. His forearms came to rest upon the thigh parallel to the ground. Perhaps this would help him appear smaller, or, at the least, make him easier to converse with — so he hoped.

"Is this helping you to be seeing?"

#giaunt #[not a problem at all]

"Yanno, I gotta tell ya when I say somethin' like this is a first for me, it really is the first for me."

Dean says with an slight grin but there was a touch of disbelief and still, something of this paper thin smile all at once. It was a malfunctioning of emotions at best. However, he couldn't help that in his line of work that everything was suspect. Including Ingvar. Pretty sure that even Sam couldn't vouch for this one. But still, the giant's not hostile.

"Well, yeah. I'm surprised that no one's tried to hurt you. Or at least I'd hope not." Most likely his words may have come out wrong though, there might not be another way to put it. This also sounded like when parents told stories to their kids to scare them into behaving. "Not sayin' that I don't believe you, and anything's possible. Kinda sounds like some sorta riddle... And I'm not that good at those..." he paused, his hand spun in motion a bit as though to twist an apparatus. "…So, a horse without legs, has no voice and is metal? And no flame?" This mix of skepticism and interest sounds out within his words. Ingvar's next round of sentences prompted his viewing to fix to him again before waving a dismissive hand. "Nah. Didn't expect you would. I'm a hunter, but sometimes we're not always prepared for what we might find." It hasn't exactly dawned upon him that maybe his own remarks are a little offhanded, but he'd exhale. That rumbling of the earth sent this inexplicable vibration within his skull and perhaps behind his eyes. And then, the feeling sent waves through him. As much as he tried to brace himself for a better footing, and balance. That was proven difficult. Once the rumbling stopped, again, Dean took another cautioned but instinctive few steps back. He'd ignore the surge of vertigo he experienced. It wasn't something Dean couldn't handle.

"Yeah." His head nodded as to agree after he looked up. "Yeah, I can see better."

giaunt

@helleftmarks / continued journey

He thought he knew where he was going with this? Ingvar gawked with those great big green eyes of his, and shook his head quickly, sending his long, dark hair all spilling over and about and back across his broad shoulders. No; he hadn't a clue where this was going...! Humans were so strange -- and scary, unpredictable. Most importantly to him, perhaps, they were extremely dangerous to anything they deemed a threat, himself included. Hence, their current dilemma.

As much as he loathes this situation, he would far rather incredulity and annoyance to screaming. This fellow, it seemed he could be reasoned with.

"Aye, truly...!" stammered he, hardly able to get the words to tumble out from his lips and down his beard and all the way to the human's far smaller ears, for his nerves were too much to form words quite so coherently as he would have liked. Would the man be angry that he didn't know what Jack and the Beanstalk was, nor indeed what it had to do with him? Would he be upset he didn't know any boy named Jack? Oh, how he hoped not. And was he asking which of those other things he listed was the largest physically, or which of those struck the largest fear into him? He would surely be a fool if he were to ask, so he tried to answer what he supposed was the question.

"All. All are— are being frightening," he admitted rather meekly, "B-but — most frightening of all — oh, please be forgiving me for this, sir, b-but — it is being humans who are most frightening. There are being many things to be... scared about of them. You are knowing wherefore I am saying such, surely...?"