[closed*] feed my will to feel my moment drawing way outside the lines
[*Open to anyone, but please join the same thread/scene, instead of starting a new one. Will close if more than 2-3 people join.]
It was just great, Sam thought to himself bitterly, knowing that he was in a place where he was just so trusted.
Dean had acted like everything was going to be explained, all the dark shadows that kept crossing his face when they'd talked about Castiel or Jo or Ellen, when they got back to the cabin the first time. He should have known better than to expect that Dean didn't already have them all prompted to keep their lips zipped. Nobody had volunteered any information, except about their experiences here so far, and he couldn't say hearing about any of that made him feel better either.
He'd had a hard enough time tuning in half the time when they'd gather around the table making plans and swapping notes. That dark pit inside, the one the vines had left, had slowly seemed to be on the mend, but it had taken days, and during that time he'd withdrawn a lot. He probably could have gone back to Ruby, checked in on her, stole some more moments of attempted comfort. Instead, he'd just kept to himself, sent her a message or two, and calculated how long it was going to take Dean to point out that something was wrong with him.
To prevent that from happening any time soon, he'd spent a lot of time exploring on his own, making sure to leave before Dean woke up, or before he could open his mouth to protest, at least. He'd paced the edges of the barracks, tried to get an eye for the other inhabitants, scoped out what kind of supplies the place had.
The answer was simple: not much.
He'd been making slowly contracting concentric circles of the place, and so his last stop was the building in the very center of the barracks. His footsteps crunched over pieces of broken wood as he tried to make his way through the destruction inside. It had definitely been a library... once. Someone had had a field day making sure that it would be difficult to classify it that way by the time they were done though. He'd picked through forgotten volumes, noticing that pages were missing from some, and that these books seemed more fiction than non-fiction, though that didn't necessarily make them no good for research. Most of what he dealt with back home could be shelved in the fiction section.
There was a sense of having disturbed something he shouldn't that he couldn't shake as he made his way to the back of the library, where he could spy a painting on the wall that at least had remained intact. Faces. His eyes scanned across them, not surprised that none of them were familiar, but still wishing he might be able to eke out some kind of answers from their eyes, or mysterious smiles.
He wondered where they were now. If they were now. How old was this mural anyways? He mulled over the clothing they were wearing, looking for signs that might date them. Tell him anything.
He was so caught up in dark thoughts and the isolated feeling the building gave him that he didn't notice when he wasn't alone anymore. It was yet another sign of how off his encounter in the Woods had left him.
It was just great, Sam thought to himself bitterly, knowing that he was in a place where he was just so trusted.
Dean had acted like everything was going to be explained, all the dark shadows that kept crossing his face when they'd talked about Castiel or Jo or Ellen, when they got back to the cabin the first time. He should have known better than to expect that Dean didn't already have them all prompted to keep their lips zipped. Nobody had volunteered any information, except about their experiences here so far, and he couldn't say hearing about any of that made him feel better either.
He'd had a hard enough time tuning in half the time when they'd gather around the table making plans and swapping notes. That dark pit inside, the one the vines had left, had slowly seemed to be on the mend, but it had taken days, and during that time he'd withdrawn a lot. He probably could have gone back to Ruby, checked in on her, stole some more moments of attempted comfort. Instead, he'd just kept to himself, sent her a message or two, and calculated how long it was going to take Dean to point out that something was wrong with him.
To prevent that from happening any time soon, he'd spent a lot of time exploring on his own, making sure to leave before Dean woke up, or before he could open his mouth to protest, at least. He'd paced the edges of the barracks, tried to get an eye for the other inhabitants, scoped out what kind of supplies the place had.
The answer was simple: not much.
He'd been making slowly contracting concentric circles of the place, and so his last stop was the building in the very center of the barracks. His footsteps crunched over pieces of broken wood as he tried to make his way through the destruction inside. It had definitely been a library... once. Someone had had a field day making sure that it would be difficult to classify it that way by the time they were done though. He'd picked through forgotten volumes, noticing that pages were missing from some, and that these books seemed more fiction than non-fiction, though that didn't necessarily make them no good for research. Most of what he dealt with back home could be shelved in the fiction section.
There was a sense of having disturbed something he shouldn't that he couldn't shake as he made his way to the back of the library, where he could spy a painting on the wall that at least had remained intact. Faces. His eyes scanned across them, not surprised that none of them were familiar, but still wishing he might be able to eke out some kind of answers from their eyes, or mysterious smiles.
He wondered where they were now. If they were now. How old was this mural anyways? He mulled over the clothing they were wearing, looking for signs that might date them. Tell him anything.
He was so caught up in dark thoughts and the isolated feeling the building gave him that he didn't notice when he wasn't alone anymore. It was yet another sign of how off his encounter in the Woods had left him.