I don't care if it hurts, I want to have control [Active, open]
Who: Dean and Anyone who wants to join him
Where: Kitchen
When: night 002
What: He had a horrible discovery, and now he's gonna check that he's right. But does he really want to know?
Warnings: Language. disturbing imagery (possibly?). Update as necessary.
what the hell was happening to him? Had happened to him? He found himself in the kitchen, with a sink full of water. He rubbed an agitated hand over his face, and pulled the rosary he'd been brought here over the water. Did he want to know the truth?
what if he was a demon? what would he do? Ask his mom to exorcise him, seeing as he couldn't do it himself?
...No, he couldn't do that to her.
Line a room with salt, and keep himself in there? That could work. big-assed devil's trap? Could also work.
He opens his hand, and lets the rosary fall into the water, making not much more than an unobtrusive plop. it was funny how that little thing could hold all the answers. Could tell him if he was one of the big bad fuglys he hunted.
His fingers drummed impatiently on the side. Damn it all, it wasn't that hard. He picked up the nearly-empty bottle of whiskey - he'd found it full earlier, and emptied the last of it, sure his blood circulation was probably more alcohol than blood right now.
He put the bottle down, and sighed. "Here we go." And he stuck his hand into the sink of water. It started smoking and bubbling immediately, and his breathing turned ragged as he tried to breathe through it. Soon, he was panting, and there was a small, pained noise from him, but he kept his hand in there. It was like he was too horrified, too shocked, to take it out. If he just left it in there, would it burn away? Would he burn away?
No. He knew you couldn't kill a demon like that. Which is why with a heavy heart, he pulled his hand out, gasping a little as he dried it off, burnt skin screaming in pain at the contact.
What was he to do now?
Where: Kitchen
When: night 002
What: He had a horrible discovery, and now he's gonna check that he's right. But does he really want to know?
Warnings: Language. disturbing imagery (possibly?). Update as necessary.
what the hell was happening to him? Had happened to him? He found himself in the kitchen, with a sink full of water. He rubbed an agitated hand over his face, and pulled the rosary he'd been brought here over the water. Did he want to know the truth?
what if he was a demon? what would he do? Ask his mom to exorcise him, seeing as he couldn't do it himself?
...No, he couldn't do that to her.
Line a room with salt, and keep himself in there? That could work. big-assed devil's trap? Could also work.
He opens his hand, and lets the rosary fall into the water, making not much more than an unobtrusive plop. it was funny how that little thing could hold all the answers. Could tell him if he was one of the big bad fuglys he hunted.
His fingers drummed impatiently on the side. Damn it all, it wasn't that hard. He picked up the nearly-empty bottle of whiskey - he'd found it full earlier, and emptied the last of it, sure his blood circulation was probably more alcohol than blood right now.
He put the bottle down, and sighed. "Here we go." And he stuck his hand into the sink of water. It started smoking and bubbling immediately, and his breathing turned ragged as he tried to breathe through it. Soon, he was panting, and there was a small, pained noise from him, but he kept his hand in there. It was like he was too horrified, too shocked, to take it out. If he just left it in there, would it burn away? Would he burn away?
No. He knew you couldn't kill a demon like that. Which is why with a heavy heart, he pulled his hand out, gasping a little as he dried it off, burnt skin screaming in pain at the contact.
What was he to do now?