Lost!Dean - Round two
Demon prompt! Life of it's own! Aaaaagh!! Run awaaaaay!!!!
Prompt: Lost!Dean
Who: Dean, Mysterious Voice from On High, NPCs
He got lost. Quite quickly, and effortlessly. Within minutes he’d found himself in three dead ends, ran across the same broken wall twice, and somehow managed to get back to his starting point without any idea how he got there. So, as one usually tends to do in this case he turned around and tried again, moving slower and keeping his left hand on the wall, memorizing where he turned to no avail.
Staring at the caved in path bitterly, Dean tried to think of what he missed. A switch? A secret path, or a hidden one?
It struck him after a moment. A covered path, one that most people would immediately discount. He felt a bit like an idiot for missing it in the first place. That voice from on high must be laughing at him for this. Dean picked up a few decent sized stone and slipped them into his pocket as makeshift weapons and began to climb the piles of rocks in the way of his destination. There wasn’t any solid ground, the pile shifting under his weight as he progressed over the top. Once he got to the top he paused, once again able to see into the distance over the maze.
It was like the creator wanted to give him a chance to see what he was coming up against before letting him move on. While Dean appreciated the chance to get his bearings straight, he wasn’t too fond of being played with, and his kidnapper would be sure to remember it once he got his hands on him.
The stone section extended farther than he could see, well beyond the tower, which didn’t look today any closer than it did yesterday, but within the section were gaps where it looked as if there were others things. The only one he could make out from here was covered in a greenish haze. Probably best to avoid that one if he could. It didn’t look at all pleasant. Heaving a sigh, Dean slid down the other side, just jumping the last several feet, in order to avoid having the whole unstable stack fall on him.
He brushed himself off and continued on the trail, growling softly to himself as the turns just twisted into more dead ends. He ended up backtracking a hell of a lot more than he did in the first path, turning himself around so much that even if he were to return to the starting point he'd probably never even recognized that cave-in from a dozen others he'd seen in these corridors.
After what felt like several hours of just walking and wearing down his boots, Dean finally came across a cross road, the first place he saw the wasn't just a fork or a twist in the path. In the middle of the cross road was a tree with signs tacked to it. The signs were worn and difficult to read, but each pointed in a different direction.
"So," he spoke up, talking to himself, " each path leads somewhere, it's just deciding which way I want to go that's the problem." Assuming the signs were telling the truth about what lay down the path and not just another trick to lead him on.
Pulling off his shirt, he rubbed at the signs, cleaning off some of the dust and dirt in an attempt to read them. 'Bog'. That must be the green hazy area he'd seen before, if he had to hazard a guess. 'Hedge maze' was obviously the way he had just come. The third and fourth were too worn to read, but he thought one of them looked like it said castle. Taking a breath, he picked that one and turned right, slipping his shirt back on over his shoulders.
This path was almost entirely unremarkable, and almost a little relaxing, he noticed as he walked. Slowly, but steadily the quality of the rock improved and the path got wider until four men could walk shoulder to shoulder and still have room on either side. The walls were also getting shorter. Less like huge prison gates and more like actually walls.
A few paces later he came to a wooden door. It didn't look like this was the exit, but he didn't want to take any chances by missing anything. The handle turned easily under his hand, and he looked around before opening it as if someone would be there to see him breaking in. Nonsense, he hadn't seen another soul in hours, but it always paid to be careful.
Pushing the door in, he found himself suddenly in a large bustling kitchen. People ran back and forth in a hurry carrying trays filled to the brim with various foods. It was like he'd walked into some King Arthur movie or something. Everything was old, practically antique, except it all looked new and not like it belonged in a museum.
Before he could back out into the labyrinth, one of the maids saw him and yanked him fully into the room. "What are you doing out there? We need you to get dressed and take a tray to the royal family! Hurry!" Without waiting for his answer, she shoved him into a back room and locked the door on him.
Crap.
Well, on the bright side he was no longer alone. That was the first human voice he'd heard since he got here, the mysterious voice from on high totally didn't count, and it occurred to him that if her accent was any indication she shouldn't have been speaking English at all but he understood her all the same.
There were uniforms stacked on shelves in the room, and he noticed they were much cleaner than the ones he had on now. After a day of walking through dust and wiping dirt onto his shirt, his clothes were absolutely filthy. Figuring it would be easier to move around as if he belonged, he quickly stripped and put in the new outfit, wrinkling his nose at how prim and proper it looked, not to mention how stupid he felt wearing it, but they fit and they were a clean desguise and that's really the only thing that mattered.
After changing, he returned to the kitchen itself and was instantly weighed down with two trays, one for each arm, both of which he almost dropped. They were heavy! The girl who had first grabbed him was there pushing at his back. "Hurry, go. You have to get up there now!" She ordered, pushing him one last time before turning to the next man in line and shouting at him. Dean took a breath and moved on, risking a few seconds to put one of the trays down to pocket a few knives.
Getting to the dining room was easy, however. There weren't directions, per say, but it was a safe bet the royal family wouldn't be dining down in what looked like it could be the dungeons for how it was decorated. He followed a deep forest green carpet up several staircases and down a brightly lit hallway until he reach a set of large double doors that had to lead to the dining room. Down a side hallway not far from the doors, a man dressed like he was came out carrying an empty tray.
Servant's door. Following that down, he came into the room at last, looking around and gawking at the large domed, painted ceiling. The room stretched for at least a quarter of a mile, one long table reaching from one end to the other. Most of the table was empty, save for three places at the closer end.
There was something weird about the royal family, but he couldn't quite place it as he straightened his back and walked in with the trays. They were all frightfully silent as he moved close, and he remembered that he had no idea how things like this were supposed to go. Where did the trays go? Did he serve them or something? There was no way he was going to stand here and serve food like some sort of for information.
Dean figured he could do what he did best. Wing it. And likely piss everyone off in the process. Hey, no harm, no foul.
Not that, he figured later on, they had any useful sayings like that to that to heart. Apparently even stepping up to the table the way he did had been wrong, as the guy, king?, at the head of the table immediately glared at him like he had done him some personal wrong. There was a slithering sound as he stood up, and Dean realized with a start that these people weren't human at all.
Before anyone could start shouting, Dean was moving, pushing the trays onto the table and yanking the knives out of his pockets. There was a loud frightening gasp from the Queen and a muttered 'cool' from the smaller one on the other side of the table. The King turned this ugly greenish red color in rage, and Dean decided it was definitely time to go.
So, where does one run to when they're lost inside a freaking castle? Were there any acceptable places to go? Nooks, crannies, hidden rooms, abandoned hallways. Heck, he'd take a secret passageway through a crypt if he could. This totally wasn't even funny.
Which meant the person who brought him here was laughing his fool head off. It was only fair, he guessed. This was all a game to the powers that be.
Dean tore out of the dining room and entered the first side hallway he could find, running flat out. He could hear armor clanking together behind him, along with the strange, disturbing slithering sound that made his blood run cold.
Turning a hard corner and leaping down a flight of stairs, Dean found himself back in the underground area, and he tried the third door he came to, entering the room and closing it behind him, sliding a latch into place. It was quiet for many long moments. When he finally turned around, he realized the entire room behind him was white. There was no blue door, which confused him at first, but merely seconds later it was confirmed that this room was his ‘save point’ as he’d begun to think of them.
“Congratulations. You are not out of the fire just yet, but you have completed round two.”
“Come on!” Dean shouted at the ceiling. “Stop screwing around and send me home! I don’t want to play your stupid game!”
Silence, then. “Awwww, too bad. The only way out is to reach the end, Dean. Now rest. You have a big day tomorrow.” There was silence once more and he saw a rough cot in the corner to rest on, keeping the knives on the floor within easy reach. He meant to stay alert through the night, not nearly as tired as he had been the night before, but the same force from then caught a hold of him and he soon found himself being dragged into a soft, quiet sleep.
Prompt: Lost!Dean
Who: Dean, Mysterious Voice from On High, NPCs
He got lost. Quite quickly, and effortlessly. Within minutes he’d found himself in three dead ends, ran across the same broken wall twice, and somehow managed to get back to his starting point without any idea how he got there. So, as one usually tends to do in this case he turned around and tried again, moving slower and keeping his left hand on the wall, memorizing where he turned to no avail.
Staring at the caved in path bitterly, Dean tried to think of what he missed. A switch? A secret path, or a hidden one?
It struck him after a moment. A covered path, one that most people would immediately discount. He felt a bit like an idiot for missing it in the first place. That voice from on high must be laughing at him for this. Dean picked up a few decent sized stone and slipped them into his pocket as makeshift weapons and began to climb the piles of rocks in the way of his destination. There wasn’t any solid ground, the pile shifting under his weight as he progressed over the top. Once he got to the top he paused, once again able to see into the distance over the maze.
It was like the creator wanted to give him a chance to see what he was coming up against before letting him move on. While Dean appreciated the chance to get his bearings straight, he wasn’t too fond of being played with, and his kidnapper would be sure to remember it once he got his hands on him.
The stone section extended farther than he could see, well beyond the tower, which didn’t look today any closer than it did yesterday, but within the section were gaps where it looked as if there were others things. The only one he could make out from here was covered in a greenish haze. Probably best to avoid that one if he could. It didn’t look at all pleasant. Heaving a sigh, Dean slid down the other side, just jumping the last several feet, in order to avoid having the whole unstable stack fall on him.
He brushed himself off and continued on the trail, growling softly to himself as the turns just twisted into more dead ends. He ended up backtracking a hell of a lot more than he did in the first path, turning himself around so much that even if he were to return to the starting point he'd probably never even recognized that cave-in from a dozen others he'd seen in these corridors.
After what felt like several hours of just walking and wearing down his boots, Dean finally came across a cross road, the first place he saw the wasn't just a fork or a twist in the path. In the middle of the cross road was a tree with signs tacked to it. The signs were worn and difficult to read, but each pointed in a different direction.
"So," he spoke up, talking to himself, " each path leads somewhere, it's just deciding which way I want to go that's the problem." Assuming the signs were telling the truth about what lay down the path and not just another trick to lead him on.
Pulling off his shirt, he rubbed at the signs, cleaning off some of the dust and dirt in an attempt to read them. 'Bog'. That must be the green hazy area he'd seen before, if he had to hazard a guess. 'Hedge maze' was obviously the way he had just come. The third and fourth were too worn to read, but he thought one of them looked like it said castle. Taking a breath, he picked that one and turned right, slipping his shirt back on over his shoulders.
This path was almost entirely unremarkable, and almost a little relaxing, he noticed as he walked. Slowly, but steadily the quality of the rock improved and the path got wider until four men could walk shoulder to shoulder and still have room on either side. The walls were also getting shorter. Less like huge prison gates and more like actually walls.
A few paces later he came to a wooden door. It didn't look like this was the exit, but he didn't want to take any chances by missing anything. The handle turned easily under his hand, and he looked around before opening it as if someone would be there to see him breaking in. Nonsense, he hadn't seen another soul in hours, but it always paid to be careful.
Pushing the door in, he found himself suddenly in a large bustling kitchen. People ran back and forth in a hurry carrying trays filled to the brim with various foods. It was like he'd walked into some King Arthur movie or something. Everything was old, practically antique, except it all looked new and not like it belonged in a museum.
Before he could back out into the labyrinth, one of the maids saw him and yanked him fully into the room. "What are you doing out there? We need you to get dressed and take a tray to the royal family! Hurry!" Without waiting for his answer, she shoved him into a back room and locked the door on him.
Crap.
Well, on the bright side he was no longer alone. That was the first human voice he'd heard since he got here, the mysterious voice from on high totally didn't count, and it occurred to him that if her accent was any indication she shouldn't have been speaking English at all but he understood her all the same.
There were uniforms stacked on shelves in the room, and he noticed they were much cleaner than the ones he had on now. After a day of walking through dust and wiping dirt onto his shirt, his clothes were absolutely filthy. Figuring it would be easier to move around as if he belonged, he quickly stripped and put in the new outfit, wrinkling his nose at how prim and proper it looked, not to mention how stupid he felt wearing it, but they fit and they were a clean desguise and that's really the only thing that mattered.
After changing, he returned to the kitchen itself and was instantly weighed down with two trays, one for each arm, both of which he almost dropped. They were heavy! The girl who had first grabbed him was there pushing at his back. "Hurry, go. You have to get up there now!" She ordered, pushing him one last time before turning to the next man in line and shouting at him. Dean took a breath and moved on, risking a few seconds to put one of the trays down to pocket a few knives.
Getting to the dining room was easy, however. There weren't directions, per say, but it was a safe bet the royal family wouldn't be dining down in what looked like it could be the dungeons for how it was decorated. He followed a deep forest green carpet up several staircases and down a brightly lit hallway until he reach a set of large double doors that had to lead to the dining room. Down a side hallway not far from the doors, a man dressed like he was came out carrying an empty tray.
Servant's door. Following that down, he came into the room at last, looking around and gawking at the large domed, painted ceiling. The room stretched for at least a quarter of a mile, one long table reaching from one end to the other. Most of the table was empty, save for three places at the closer end.
There was something weird about the royal family, but he couldn't quite place it as he straightened his back and walked in with the trays. They were all frightfully silent as he moved close, and he remembered that he had no idea how things like this were supposed to go. Where did the trays go? Did he serve them or something? There was no way he was going to stand here and serve food like some sort of for information.
Dean figured he could do what he did best. Wing it. And likely piss everyone off in the process. Hey, no harm, no foul.
Not that, he figured later on, they had any useful sayings like that to that to heart. Apparently even stepping up to the table the way he did had been wrong, as the guy, king?, at the head of the table immediately glared at him like he had done him some personal wrong. There was a slithering sound as he stood up, and Dean realized with a start that these people weren't human at all.
Before anyone could start shouting, Dean was moving, pushing the trays onto the table and yanking the knives out of his pockets. There was a loud frightening gasp from the Queen and a muttered 'cool' from the smaller one on the other side of the table. The King turned this ugly greenish red color in rage, and Dean decided it was definitely time to go.
So, where does one run to when they're lost inside a freaking castle? Were there any acceptable places to go? Nooks, crannies, hidden rooms, abandoned hallways. Heck, he'd take a secret passageway through a crypt if he could. This totally wasn't even funny.
Which meant the person who brought him here was laughing his fool head off. It was only fair, he guessed. This was all a game to the powers that be.
Dean tore out of the dining room and entered the first side hallway he could find, running flat out. He could hear armor clanking together behind him, along with the strange, disturbing slithering sound that made his blood run cold.
Turning a hard corner and leaping down a flight of stairs, Dean found himself back in the underground area, and he tried the third door he came to, entering the room and closing it behind him, sliding a latch into place. It was quiet for many long moments. When he finally turned around, he realized the entire room behind him was white. There was no blue door, which confused him at first, but merely seconds later it was confirmed that this room was his ‘save point’ as he’d begun to think of them.
“Congratulations. You are not out of the fire just yet, but you have completed round two.”
“Come on!” Dean shouted at the ceiling. “Stop screwing around and send me home! I don’t want to play your stupid game!”
Silence, then. “Awwww, too bad. The only way out is to reach the end, Dean. Now rest. You have a big day tomorrow.” There was silence once more and he saw a rough cot in the corner to rest on, keeping the knives on the floor within easy reach. He meant to stay alert through the night, not nearly as tired as he had been the night before, but the same force from then caught a hold of him and he soon found himself being dragged into a soft, quiet sleep.