idefk. Went to tag this meme and I saw you and I was all ASKFADJ. /HAVE MANY APOLOGIESbamfparkerDecember 13 2011, 13:09:45 UTC
[Parker was sipping at a bottle of beer; she drank lightly, but mostly drowned herself in thrills and adrenaline. Entirely possibly a more dangerous past-time than whiskey or whatever other variety of intoxicants floated around between people trying to forget. A task made harder by the Death Machines, by the little stations eerily immune to the creeping desolation of the world that handed out tickets in block letters that got tucked in secret drawers and locked boxes. It was easier not to know, but, since when did most people take the easy way?
Parker tended to hang out with Cass, because he seemed the least bothered by the fact that she lacked even a passing attempt at social skills, or any sort of comprehension of human interaction. And she hadn't broken his hand or stabbed him with a fork like she had some people that had tried to get friendly with her. The fact that he was usually intoxicated in some way or another didn't bother her, and she was more than willing to indulge in beer and a second-hand high.]
Have you used one of the death box things?
[She'd heard some people talking about it earlier, and Cass is who she asks things she doesn't understand these days. She tilts her head a little and eyes him curiously, taking a drink off her beer as she waits.]
hahah naaah no apologies necessary, dude :PheavenonhighDecember 14 2011, 03:50:11 UTC
[Cas looks up from the teabag he'd been dipping in and out of his steaming mug for the past few minutes. Don't look at him like that, he's extremely hungover and the thought of anything harder than the Celestial Seasonings in his hands is making him want to die.]
The ones that tell you how you're gonna die?
[He hates those things. The world's gone to shit around them, cities burned to the ground, earthquakes swallowing town after town, populations decimated by the disease... Not to mention the destruction caused by demons faced with fewer and fewer humans to torment. And yet those boxes seem totally untouched by any of it, happily stationed all over the country- all over the world, actually, as far as he's aware- dark obelisks of mortality sitting at the corners of darker streets... He hates those things.
Oh, goodie good. Random Parker is Random.bamfparkerDecember 14 2011, 05:34:43 UTC
Yeah. Those ones!
[Parker is far too excited about the subject for good taste. Of course, letting Parker overhear anything usually discussed in whispers, is a good way to guarantee that Cass is likely going to be on the receiving end of Parker being awkward.
Her feet are swinging, and she is sort of aware of Cass' misery, she just doesn't have an easily accessible solution. She perks up when he mentions that he has tried it, though. A crooked (creepy?) smile curving over her lips.]
I haven't. How are you going to die?
[She then rattles off a few rather gory and unfortunately believable ways for the human-turned-angel to die. All of this with a disturbing amount of enthusiasm about the whole thing.]
[He smiles faintly as he takes a cautious sip of his tea, leaning back in his chair to look at her. She looks almost excited, which is odd to be sure but he's not really fazed by it. After a few months he's gotten used to her eccentricities, even grown to enjoy them. He has a certain fondness for the socially inept, having been there before himself- he still has his moments, fewer and farther between though they may be.
...Not that it makes the horrible ways she's come up with for him to die any less morbid; he himself hadn't thought of quite so many ways to be mutilated by croates, but then Parker does seem to have quite the imagination for these things... Unsurprising but still a bit jarring. He shakes his head.]
Nothing like that, no. I think I managed to confuse it, I've tried it a few times and every time it gives me a different answer.
[None of them are particularly pleasant, but he's in a sharing mood and she seems to be more interested than the average person, so he continues.]
First time it was FRATRICIDE. Accurate enough, because that was how it went down. The second was the same. Since then I've tried maybe three or four more times, just to see, and I got OLD AGE, POND, and BROKEN HEART. Pretty curious about the last two, actually.
[He doesn't even have the papers anymore, he's long since tossed them away, although he's pretty sure he may have tried to roll a joint with BROKEN HEART for being the most offensive of the bunch.]
Pond makes me think of the thread with drowned!Cass, hahaha. :DbamfparkerDecember 14 2011, 20:53:39 UTC
[Yes, well, Parker is a bit damaged. In the same way that Dean is 'a bit' damaged, even if her upbringing had more bad people and bad situations, less ghosts and demons and werewolves. She watches Cass, rapt and attentive as he tells her about the ways the strange death machines have predicted he'll die.
There's something strange for a moment, a slash of something in her eyes when Cass says fratricide. It's in the way her forehead creases and her eyebrows pull together. Her lips thin, shoulders curl, and it's a rather surprising flash of emotion from someone so eternally emotionally disconnected, even if it's gone almost as quickly as it was there.
She settles for trying not to think about it.]
How do you break your heart?
[She seems perplexed at the very idea, or at least it's a more pleasant thing to think about than childhood memories. And she's looking at Cass in that pointed sort of way that demands answers.]
Hahahaa you know I wasn't even thinking that, but it totally makes sense XD my braaaainheavenonhighDecember 15 2011, 03:18:31 UTC
[He notices that flash in her eyes when he mentions familial violence; he's sober, and with sobriety comes that sharpness in perception that he tries so hard to dull with the drugs and the alcohol. Most of the time, he'd rather not see. But he doesn't comment on it, only looks down into his mug to blow at the hot liquid, distract himself as he watches the steam roll away.
He'll stick to answering questions instead of asking them, for now.]
Take away my drugs, most likely.
[...But no one ever said anything about an honest answer, especially not about that. There are only a few possible things, anyway. His family leaving him behind had been heartbreaking, but it hadn't killed him- not completely, anyway- and he's already lost almost everything he's ever had.
And that leaves just the one thing left, really, one glaring, horribly obvious loss substantial enough to push him over the edge... And he's not talking about that. He's too sober for that conversation.]
I'm more curious about POND, to be honest. What the fuck? Who dies in a pond?
Hahaha. :D It amused me. ^^bamfparkerDecember 15 2011, 06:15:52 UTC
I don't think you'll die from being sober. You haven't yet.
[Of course, he was usually less pleasant company when he didn't have something to make him a little less distant from whatever it was he'd lost. They'd all lost something, after all. Her eyes looking at him intently, as if trying to puzzle out what it was he wasn't telling her. Sophie would know. But Parker didn't read people, didn't understand them. So, she just shrugged her shoulders and carried on.]
Well, you could drown in a pond. Or fall through the ice during the winter and die of hypothermia. There could be leeches and you die of blood loss and hypoperfusion. Or maybe you get beaten to death with a book written by someone named Pond.
[You wanted to know how you could die with a ticket that said Pond? Have a nice sampling, courtesy of Parker. She's actually not intentionally morbid, it just kind of happens. She still feels a bit off about the whole mention of family violence, and so she tries to come up with something to take the edge off. Of course, Parker's idea of things like that tend to be rather... well, risky is saying it nicely.]
We should go find one. I want to try.
[Her eyes have that spark, hopeful, even though it probably constitutes a really bad idea.]
I'm glaaad XD guh I am feeling like ass so I apologize for shitty tag =/heavenonhighDecember 16 2011, 01:15:15 UTC
It could happen.
[Sobriety is the leading cause of a desire to hurl yourself into a horde of croates; it's not impossible.
He listens, nodding, as she supplies numerous sickeningly possible causes of death by POND.]
So all I really need to do is avoid small bodies of water, winter, and libraries? That's not so bad.
[He takes a large gulp of his tea. He can't swim and he hates the cold anyway, he'd happily accept both as things to avoid. Libraries, well... It's not that he doesn't enjoy reading, but they're not the first place he checks out when they hit a new area. He can just send someone else in to brave the killer books for him, he supposes.
Not that he has any intention of setting much store by a slip of paper from a vending machine in the first place. He's a bit surprised when she suggests going to find one, though he probably shouldn't be. There's really no reason he can see not to-- hungover or not he'd rather be out doing something to take his mind off the fact that he'd used the last of his stash and is going to be toughing it out for the next few days, and so he nods.
Maybe if he's lucky, they'll find something on their search for a Death Machine.]
Why not? I'll give it another shot myself, see if it's decided how I'm gonna kick it yet.
No apologies nessecary! Your tag is fiiiine! bamfparkerDecember 16 2011, 05:49:39 UTC
[Parker grins and looks far too excited at the concept of going out to find one of the machines together. And if they're lucky? Maybe there will be a good excuse for her adrenaline junkie behaviors. And if they're really lucky? Maybe Cass can find some more pills to last him the few days until the next supply run. Parker actually has a small stash of drugs, but it's things they used to use to work over a Mark. Switching allergy pills for amphetamines, opiates crushed and slipped into a cup of coffee... Chloroform for those special emergencies. It just didn't occur to her to share, or else she would have.]
Oh, can I drive?
[She looks gleefully hopeful. Dean never lets her drive. Which might be because he'd let her drive once. Given that Parker had learned how to drive as a getaway driver for bank heists as a disturbingly small child using books to reach the pedals, well, she rattled the girls in the car. Who knew that rickety jeep could hit 120?
She's standing up, going for the bag that she keeps her supplies in. A couple guns, but more importantly than that, her rig, and all the things she could need to figure out something fun to do while they're out. On the more useful note, also pretty much anything they could need to get out of any situation that doesn't immediately kill them. Parker is a survivor. It's why she's still here.]
[He pauses. He's heard stories about what happens when Parker gets behind the wheel... But then again, he's not exactly the safest of drivers; if he's not high he's... Well, more high. It's a wonder he hasn't pulled JEEP from the Machines yet. Maybe today's the day.]
Sure, knock yourself out.
[He's not really in the mood for driving anyway.
Shoving some of the more useless things from his bed, he locates his handgun, which he drops into his bag, along with a bottle of water or two and some jerky. Given the choice he wouldn't touch the stuff with a ten foot pole, but it's all that's left in his cabin aside from twinkies and twinkies will only get them so far if they happen to get stuck somewhere for a few days. Never can be too careful.
All that's left is his tea; he downs it quickly and plunks the mug down on the table as he shoulders his bag and glances at Parker.]
[Parker is of the opinion that the stories were a little unfair. Okay, sure, her driving might have been too fast and reckless, even by Dean's standards, but had she gotten them out, despite being boxed in by Croates? And no one had died, even if a few people had been rattled once they'd gotten back. She grins brightly, an eager gleam to her eyes when Cass says she can drive.
Parker has a box of Twinkies in her kit, so she's got them covered on that angle. She was never too good at eating decent before the world went to Hell, however she's not too fond of jerky. But, desperate situations all too often seem to be how things go.]
Just a second.
[She grabs the black bodysuit she wears whenever she goes out. And then proceeds to strip out of her clothes without a single thought. Dean had tried to talk to Parker about modesty once. Given the fact that she just didn't get it, he'd given up about halfway through. Shirt comes off, then her denims, and then she's dragging body hugging black fabric up over her slim frame. She pulls on her good boots, a jacket and tosses her bag over her shoulder as she heads for the door.]
What do you think mine will say?
[Parker isn't intentionally morbid, it just kind of happens.]
[He sees it coming when she reaches for the bodysuit; out of respect and not a little awkwardness he turns around as she changes out of her camp clothes and into her 'I'm about to do something crazy' clothes. It's not that he doesn't want to look, and if it had been anyone else he probably would have, but it's Parker and there's an innocence there that stops him cold.
He follows her outside once she's decent- or as decent as you can be in a skin-tight body suit- and shrugs.]
Honestly, I have no idea. Seems like they were built to make people think, like riddles. You could get COTTON CANDY and it'd make sense somewhere down the line.
[He tosses his bag into the back of the jeep and hops up into the passenger side, setting into the worn and bloodstained seat. The sky is grey, dark and moody and Cas snorts. It would be that way when he has nothing to brighten it; he really wishes he had a joint right about now. Shaking his head, he turns to Parker.]
[Parker tosses her bag into the back of the Jeep along with Cass', nodding as the former-angel compares the death tickets to riddles. She spares a glance around, a quirk of her lips at the sky that's dark and a little foreboding. If Parker was the smart kind, she'd probably think that the two of them alone, venturing out to hell-knows-where, might not be the brightest idea.
But, she's not. And so, she swings herself into the driver's seat with a smile, turning the key. Her excitement is ill-contained, a faint almost glow as she starts to pull away from Camp and onto the road.]
Not really. You have any ideas?
[She was just planning on heading toward where the cluster of what had once been office buildings were. Not too far from camp, and seemed as good a place as any to find one of the little death machines with their ominous block lettering spelling out how you would die.]
[He glances over at Parker in the driver's seat, a faint smile on his lips; she's so clearly excited about being able to drive, or maybe about having an excuse to leave the camp- whatever it may be it's a good look for her and Cas is actually glad they'd decided to take this little trip. Even if it is a decidedly morbid venture.]
Uh... I hadn't really given it much thought, actually. Why don't we just see where the road takes us? Those things are everywhere, we should come across a few eventually.
[They'd managed to uproot the few that had been closest to the camp- it's bad for morale when half of the papers dispensed to survivors read things like FRIENDLY FIRE or DINNER, and so they'd done their best to destroy them. Cas had half expected them to just regenerate or multiply like the heads of a hydra, but they'd stayed just the way they'd been left: smashed and useless husks of dark metal and glass. Now the only people at the camp who have the opportunity to try them out are the ones stupid enough to go looking for more machines...
Closing his eyes, he leans back against the headrest and lets the wind blowing in through the windows ruffle his hair; it feels a lot nicer stoned but this isn't bad, not at all.]
Parker tended to hang out with Cass, because he seemed the least bothered by the fact that she lacked even a passing attempt at social skills, or any sort of comprehension of human interaction. And she hadn't broken his hand or stabbed him with a fork like she had some people that had tried to get friendly with her. The fact that he was usually intoxicated in some way or another didn't bother her, and she was more than willing to indulge in beer and a second-hand high.]
Have you used one of the death box things?
[She'd heard some people talking about it earlier, and Cass is who she asks things she doesn't understand these days. She tilts her head a little and eyes him curiously, taking a drink off her beer as she waits.]
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The ones that tell you how you're gonna die?
[He hates those things. The world's gone to shit around them, cities burned to the ground, earthquakes swallowing town after town, populations decimated by the disease... Not to mention the destruction caused by demons faced with fewer and fewer humans to torment. And yet those boxes seem totally untouched by any of it, happily stationed all over the country- all over the world, actually, as far as he's aware- dark obelisks of mortality sitting at the corners of darker streets... He hates those things.
Doesn't mean he hasn't tried them, though.]
Mm. Have you?
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[Parker is far too excited about the subject for good taste. Of course, letting Parker overhear anything usually discussed in whispers, is a good way to guarantee that Cass is likely going to be on the receiving end of Parker being awkward.
Her feet are swinging, and she is sort of aware of Cass' misery, she just doesn't have an easily accessible solution. She perks up when he mentions that he has tried it, though. A crooked (creepy?) smile curving over her lips.]
I haven't. How are you going to die?
[She then rattles off a few rather gory and unfortunately believable ways for the human-turned-angel to die. All of this with a disturbing amount of enthusiasm about the whole thing.]
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...Not that it makes the horrible ways she's come up with for him to die any less morbid; he himself hadn't thought of quite so many ways to be mutilated by croates, but then Parker does seem to have quite the imagination for these things... Unsurprising but still a bit jarring. He shakes his head.]
Nothing like that, no. I think I managed to confuse it, I've tried it a few times and every time it gives me a different answer.
[None of them are particularly pleasant, but he's in a sharing mood and she seems to be more interested than the average person, so he continues.]
First time it was FRATRICIDE. Accurate enough, because that was how it went down. The second was the same. Since then I've tried maybe three or four more times, just to see, and I got OLD AGE, POND, and BROKEN HEART. Pretty curious about the last two, actually.
[He doesn't even have the papers anymore, he's long since tossed them away, although he's pretty sure he may have tried to roll a joint with BROKEN HEART for being the most offensive of the bunch.]
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There's something strange for a moment, a slash of something in her eyes when Cass says fratricide. It's in the way her forehead creases and her eyebrows pull together. Her lips thin, shoulders curl, and it's a rather surprising flash of emotion from someone so eternally emotionally disconnected, even if it's gone almost as quickly as it was there.
She settles for trying not to think about it.]
How do you break your heart?
[She seems perplexed at the very idea, or at least it's a more pleasant thing to think about than childhood memories. And she's looking at Cass in that pointed sort of way that demands answers.]
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He'll stick to answering questions instead of asking them, for now.]
Take away my drugs, most likely.
[...But no one ever said anything about an honest answer, especially not about that. There are only a few possible things, anyway. His family leaving him behind had been heartbreaking, but it hadn't killed him- not completely, anyway- and he's already lost almost everything he's ever had.
And that leaves just the one thing left, really, one glaring, horribly obvious loss substantial enough to push him over the edge... And he's not talking about that. He's too sober for that conversation.]
I'm more curious about POND, to be honest. What the fuck? Who dies in a pond?
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[Of course, he was usually less pleasant company when he didn't have something to make him a little less distant from whatever it was he'd lost. They'd all lost something, after all. Her eyes looking at him intently, as if trying to puzzle out what it was he wasn't telling her. Sophie would know. But Parker didn't read people, didn't understand them. So, she just shrugged her shoulders and carried on.]
Well, you could drown in a pond. Or fall through the ice during the winter and die of hypothermia. There could be leeches and you die of blood loss and hypoperfusion. Or maybe you get beaten to death with a book written by someone named Pond.
[You wanted to know how you could die with a ticket that said Pond? Have a nice sampling, courtesy of Parker. She's actually not intentionally morbid, it just kind of happens. She still feels a bit off about the whole mention of family violence, and so she tries to come up with something to take the edge off. Of course, Parker's idea of things like that tend to be rather... well, risky is saying it nicely.]
We should go find one. I want to try.
[Her eyes have that spark, hopeful, even though it probably constitutes a really bad idea.]
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[Sobriety is the leading cause of a desire to hurl yourself into a horde of croates; it's not impossible.
He listens, nodding, as she supplies numerous sickeningly possible causes of death by POND.]
So all I really need to do is avoid small bodies of water, winter, and libraries? That's not so bad.
[He takes a large gulp of his tea. He can't swim and he hates the cold anyway, he'd happily accept both as things to avoid. Libraries, well... It's not that he doesn't enjoy reading, but they're not the first place he checks out when they hit a new area. He can just send someone else in to brave the killer books for him, he supposes.
Not that he has any intention of setting much store by a slip of paper from a vending machine in the first place. He's a bit surprised when she suggests going to find one, though he probably shouldn't be. There's really no reason he can see not to-- hungover or not he'd rather be out doing something to take his mind off the fact that he'd used the last of his stash and is going to be toughing it out for the next few days, and so he nods.
Maybe if he's lucky, they'll find something on their search for a Death Machine.]
Why not? I'll give it another shot myself, see if it's decided how I'm gonna kick it yet.
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Oh, can I drive?
[She looks gleefully hopeful. Dean never lets her drive. Which might be because he'd let her drive once. Given that Parker had learned how to drive as a getaway driver for bank heists as a disturbingly small child using books to reach the pedals, well, she rattled the girls in the car. Who knew that rickety jeep could hit 120?
She's standing up, going for the bag that she keeps her supplies in. A couple guns, but more importantly than that, her rig, and all the things she could need to figure out something fun to do while they're out. On the more useful note, also pretty much anything they could need to get out of any situation that doesn't immediately kill them. Parker is a survivor. It's why she's still here.]
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Sure, knock yourself out.
[He's not really in the mood for driving anyway.
Shoving some of the more useless things from his bed, he locates his handgun, which he drops into his bag, along with a bottle of water or two and some jerky. Given the choice he wouldn't touch the stuff with a ten foot pole, but it's all that's left in his cabin aside from twinkies and twinkies will only get them so far if they happen to get stuck somewhere for a few days. Never can be too careful.
All that's left is his tea; he downs it quickly and plunks the mug down on the table as he shoulders his bag and glances at Parker.]
Ready to roll when you are.
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Parker has a box of Twinkies in her kit, so she's got them covered on that angle. She was never too good at eating decent before the world went to Hell, however she's not too fond of jerky. But, desperate situations all too often seem to be how things go.]
Just a second.
[She grabs the black bodysuit she wears whenever she goes out. And then proceeds to strip out of her clothes without a single thought. Dean had tried to talk to Parker about modesty once. Given the fact that she just didn't get it, he'd given up about halfway through. Shirt comes off, then her denims, and then she's dragging body hugging black fabric up over her slim frame. She pulls on her good boots, a jacket and tosses her bag over her shoulder as she heads for the door.]
What do you think mine will say?
[Parker isn't intentionally morbid, it just kind of happens.]
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He follows her outside once she's decent- or as decent as you can be in a skin-tight body suit- and shrugs.]
Honestly, I have no idea. Seems like they were built to make people think, like riddles. You could get COTTON CANDY and it'd make sense somewhere down the line.
[He tosses his bag into the back of the jeep and hops up into the passenger side, setting into the worn and bloodstained seat. The sky is grey, dark and moody and Cas snorts. It would be that way when he has nothing to brighten it; he really wishes he had a joint right about now. Shaking his head, he turns to Parker.]
Any idea where we're headed?
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But, she's not. And so, she swings herself into the driver's seat with a smile, turning the key. Her excitement is ill-contained, a faint almost glow as she starts to pull away from Camp and onto the road.]
Not really. You have any ideas?
[She was just planning on heading toward where the cluster of what had once been office buildings were. Not too far from camp, and seemed as good a place as any to find one of the little death machines with their ominous block lettering spelling out how you would die.]
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Uh... I hadn't really given it much thought, actually. Why don't we just see where the road takes us? Those things are everywhere, we should come across a few eventually.
[They'd managed to uproot the few that had been closest to the camp- it's bad for morale when half of the papers dispensed to survivors read things like FRIENDLY FIRE or DINNER, and so they'd done their best to destroy them. Cas had half expected them to just regenerate or multiply like the heads of a hydra, but they'd stayed just the way they'd been left: smashed and useless husks of dark metal and glass. Now the only people at the camp who have the opportunity to try them out are the ones stupid enough to go looking for more machines...
Closing his eyes, he leans back against the headrest and lets the wind blowing in through the windows ruffle his hair; it feels a lot nicer stoned but this isn't bad, not at all.]
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