Joscelin stands from where he landed on the ground, surveying the frozen clearing with blue eyes just as cold. He doesn't see the person he's looking for-- just a mismatched group of strange folk, almost as strange as the clearing he's found himself in.
His priority isn't the place, or the other people in it. He was with Phèdre-- just leaving her, truly-- in their garden in Montreve.
And now he was in some frozen wood. Was this a bad dream? But dream or no, he had to find her. He chose his words carefully, speaking clearly and crisply. "Should one of you know where my lady Phèdre nó Delaunay is, I suggest you tell me directly."
The last time Meredith found herself in a bizarre near-death hallucination, she was just... sitting there. This time, she wakes with a start, and then a gasp as the cold hits her through her scrubs. Why is it that she managed to hallucinate herself with appropriate clothing in her dream-hospital, but when it actually matters...
And this hallucination is much stranger than her imaginary Seattle Grace, and none of the people ones she recognizes. I drowned. This is... random neurons firing in my brain before I- She can't even finish the thought. She stopped swimming, but that doesn't mean she- This is probably a bad sign.
Pulling her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees, she stares at the man who just spoke. Denny and the others, she could more or less figure out why they were there in her hallucination. This guy... This guy has a sword. Not to mention the spooky statue over there... What is wrong with her brain?
"What?" she asks flatly, clearly lacking any clue as to what he's talking about.
Joscelin eyes the woman who responded, assessing her briefly. She didn't look like a threat-- in fact, she looked as confused as he was. Was it possible that she'd been taken as well? No matter. He couldn't afford to be hasty here, not when he was outnumbered and he had no idea where Phèdre was.
His tone was slightly milder when he repeated his question. "I said that if you know where my lady Phèdre nó Delaunay is, you should tell me directly. I think, however, that perhaps you do not."
Meredith doesn't much feel like standing up, but the frost on the ground is sinking through her scrubs, and after a moment she winces and pushes herself upright. Her limbs feel stiff and awkward, which isn't surprising considering she was just unconscious on the freezing ground.
"No. Sorry, I don't know anyone with that name. I'm M-Meredith. Meredith Grey. I was kind of hoping you'd know better than me what's going on here." Where's the ghost of Denny Duquette when you need him?
James was snoring a bit before he woke up, and that lack is now the only indication he's woken up because he is keeping his eyes shut very tightly, thank you very much, would someone please make it not so bright.
"Liiiiiily," he calls out rather pitifully in a slightly whining British accent, "My cutie of the cauldron, my heart and soul would be yours forevermore if you'd be a love and get me some Pepper-Up sans the lecture on drinking myself stupid." He hasn't yet noticed he's laying on some rather uncomfortable ground yet, being distracted by the pounding in his head. "Good damn Godric, I am never doing Firewhiskey Jell-O shots again. ...Least not for this whole next week."
Des wakes before anyone else, which is strange, he figures, because given the shock of that explosion, he thinks he ought to have been out for half a day, at least. Mathias should've warned him that the place was rigged. Fucking rogue werewolves. Caitlin was gonna have to get a better hold on her clan
( ... )
...That does not sound like either Mssrs. Padfoot, Moony, or Wormtail. As such, James lifts his head to stare at who the fuck is in his house - had they partied that hard? If so, bang on. Except where this is most definitely not his London flat, and that is most definitely not how he prefers guests to say hello and good morning.
"Why the bloody hell would my lady want you when she has a wonderfully majestic stud such as myself at her very beck and call?" he says, tongue feeling slightly thick as he scrambles up. Crap, are there leaves in his hair? He tries to shake them out, making the black mess on his head even more unruly, which is saying something. "Been going out with her a year, and she's had plenty of chance to swap out for a lesser model, and ages before that to keep saying no, so."
...Wait. There are more important questions here.
"...Who the bloody hell are you and why is my house now a wood?"
Des backtracks on what the kid was saying and frowns, lowering the crossbow slightly. "You're not one of Ceirdowyn's goons," he says- it's a fact, not a question. He glances around again, frowning at the mist and his eye lock with the screaming statue before he tears his gaze away.
"Humans aren't supposed to set foot in the Between and since you're not dead, I'm guessing I'm a little farther from Kansas than I thought." Which is a problem. The Between he can deal with- anything else... He's not sure of. Unless this is the Metatron screwing him around again and even then, he very rarely gets other people involved.
"So lets' cut the crap about your ladyfriend and get the real meat here." He inclines his head to the rest of the people in the area, barely visible from the fog. "You know these people?"
"I wouldn't do that, kid," Des's slow New Orleans drawl cut through the mist. Now that he wasn't trying to shoot everyone for being Ceirdowyn's consorts and was pretty sure he wasn't in the Between, he'd taken his stance as leader of this little boy and girl scout troop and scouted the perimeter.
There wasn't much. Unless you liked mists and creepy. Personally, Des wasn't fond of either. "Not unless you want it to suck your soul out through your eyeballs or somethin'." He shouldered his crossbow as he stepped closer and into view. "Ain't fairies grand?"
At the warning tone of voice, Dean turned quickly to look over his shoulder, eyes assessing the intruder quickly in the kind of immediate, inherent hunter fashion that his old man had drilled into him since day one. Non-threat, he established, but certainly capable. A hunter, maybe, by the way he carried himself, but Dean wasn't jumping to any conclusions. A frightened part of him thought maybe he was there looking for Sam; particularly because he hadn't seen head nor tail of Sammy yet, he didn't want to believe that, but with all the trouble that bitch was getting him into, it wouldn't surprise him all that much.
"Fairies," chalk one more up to the hunter theory. At least he had better things to fuck around with than his antichrist brother -- even if said things were a bunch of kid's stories and bullshit wrapped up in one. "You think the Easter Bunny's gettin' 'em organized, or did they team up with My Little Pony?" The venomous edge to his sarcasm was hard to miss, but he wasn't here to make enemies so he tried to at least
( ... )
"I hear Santa Claus is a pretty big douche. That whole army of elves slaving in sweatshops, y'know?" Des smirked, automatically approving of the kid's sarcasm, venomous or not. He could appreciate anyone who had the balls not to take these bitches seriously. They like being feared and even if Des knew better than to fuck with them, that didn't mean he ever shut his mouth around them
( ... )
Had to be. The last thing she remembered was-- actually, it was that weird little Nakamura guy teleporting her and Sylar away from the Bennet home. There could have been more, maybe, but it was all so fuzzy. But she knew she wasn't the beach from the feel of the dirt under her, and a quick scan of the area with her eyes didn't reveal Sylar to her. She was alone, and freezing. God, what she wouldn't give to have her jeans back now. What was with this place?
As she moved out of her laying position to hug her knees to her chest for warmth, she took in her surroundings. Trees weren't supposed to glow like that. And what was with that statue? She'd never done acid before, but something told her that this experience couldn't be too far off.
She was definitely dead.
But being dead wasn't making her any warmer, unsurprisingly, so she slowly got up and started looking around for sticks. With her powers, maybe she could start a fire. And not freeze to death and die. Again. As she started walking, she realized that her leg
( ... )
Jo figured that whatever was going on, that demon back from the streets had to be involved. She hadn't heard of one being able to distort reality entirely, but knew anything was a possibility with what was running out there now. All kinds of things were out causing trouble, and she had just managed to get herself caught up in something she hadn't been prepared for. She could remember the hellhounds, and being attacked, she could even remember the blood and the pain... but nothing from after that. The realization she just didn't know what had happened made her consider the fact she could be dead. But if she was dead, she wouldn't be in a place like this. No, she was sure heaven would be like something else entirely
( ... )
Jo got Elle's attention fairly easily. Her head snapped in the other girl's direction, expression souring as she realized it was a dumb girl like Pom-Pom. Literally. She didn't seem much smarter than Elle's favorite cheerleader.
"Do I look like I know what's going on here?" Her lips pursed into a thin line, annoyed. She could already tell she wasn't going to like this girl. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she'd decided on it.
After a tension-filled moment, she sighed. "But if you want to be useful, you can help me find some sticks. So we don't ... freeze or whatever."
Jo paid no attention to the tone of annoyance the other girl was giving her, she was used to dealing with people like her. It was her job to keep snarky bitches like her alive, though, so she nodded slowly in response to finding sticks.
"You need to find a place to sit," She nodded in the direction of a rock nearby that would keep her off the ground. "And let me take a look at your leg. I can try to patch it up better than how you've got it."
Without any further instruction, she set off and went to gather an armful of sticks and twigs. She placed them down in a neat pile and glanced up at the other blonde. "You got a lighter or something?"
Meredith is pretty well convinced she's hallucinating, or having a near-death experience or whatever. However, this hallucination feels very real, and very cold - she's going to be as blue as her scrubs before long, and she's pretty sure that's not a good look on her.
The water had been nearly this cold when she fell in. So cold she couldn't breathe, and so it wasn't her fault that-
Pushing the thought from her mind, she starts to stagger over to the giant... head statue. It's steaming, so maybe it's warmer than the rest of the clearing - it's worth checking, at least, since she's shivering so hard by now it seems like she should be able to hear her bones rattling.
Meredith gingerly waves a hand through the mist collected in the mouth. Not as warm as she'd hoped, but at least body temperature, and that's much better than the ambient temperature. Satisfied - if only a little - she spins around and puts her back flat against the statue, arms still folded over her chest, huddled as tightly into herself as she can get while still
( ... )
“Um, are you alright?” Della mutters quietly, arms still firmly wrapped around her middle as if to protect her internal organs - it doesn’t look like Mrs. Jones is about to punish her but it’s best always to be safe, complacency only gets you chained in a rather uncomfortable dungeon.
…Yeah, she’s been taught so well.
But, at least, she’s calmed down a tiny bit by now - not completely, though Della’s never completely calm, but enough to notice that nobody familiar is actually standing around. No Wolfie, no pack, not even Violet - and Della never expected that she’d miss Violet.
She’s all alone, completely alone - just like she’s always feared. And, while this woman isn’t quite blushing schoolgirl age, Della figures that it’s a start - she’s female after all, and almost young enough to fit into the groups that Della’s been socialising with over the past year.
…Best not to think of those groups, it’d only make her feel guilty and that isn’t a appropriate emotion for a vampire, yet another wise lesson from the claws of Mrs. Jones.
Meredith laughs shortly at that question - God, she couldn't have asked anything easier? It should be the simplest question in the world, but right now, she honestly doesn't know.
"Besides freezing, and..." She waves a hand around to encompass the entire clearing. "Yeah, I'm- no-" Meredith shakes her head a little and takes a breath, freeing one hand to rub at her forehead. "I have no idea."
Everyone she met in the hallucination before was dead. She knew those people, knew they were dead, because she saw most of them die. But this girl, and the rest of them...
"Am I... This is a really strange question, and maybe it's kind of personal because we don't know each other, but are you dead?"
“Oh, well… That’s okay,” Della, bless her heart, is looking rather sympathetic to Meredith’s plight. It is a hard question, a incredibly hard question - and one that, in Della’s opinion, would probably take a few sittings to get through. Being alright isn’t really that easy.
…But, unfortunately for Della, the hard questions just continue. Because life is fun like that.
For a moment she just freezes, staring at Meredith with wide eyes. This is new territory, Mrs. Jones never really covered the matter of death, life and the odd bits that fit into neither. She was only interested in turning her charges into killing machines (a process rather hindered by Wolfie, it had to be said); she never covered whether a vampire was dead or not.
In the end she can only lift her shoulders awkwardly, helpful as always “…I don’t really know.”
Comments 127
His priority isn't the place, or the other people in it. He was with Phèdre-- just leaving her, truly-- in their garden in Montreve.
And now he was in some frozen wood. Was this a bad dream? But dream or no, he had to find her. He chose his words carefully, speaking clearly and crisply. "Should one of you know where my lady Phèdre nó Delaunay is, I suggest you tell me directly."
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And this hallucination is much stranger than her imaginary Seattle Grace, and none of the people ones she recognizes. I drowned. This is... random neurons firing in my brain before I- She can't even finish the thought. She stopped swimming, but that doesn't mean she- This is probably a bad sign.
Pulling her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees, she stares at the man who just spoke. Denny and the others, she could more or less figure out why they were there in her hallucination. This guy... This guy has a sword. Not to mention the spooky statue over there... What is wrong with her brain?
"What?" she asks flatly, clearly lacking any clue as to what he's talking about.
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His tone was slightly milder when he repeated his question. "I said that if you know where my lady Phèdre nó Delaunay is, you should tell me directly. I think, however, that perhaps you do not."
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"No. Sorry, I don't know anyone with that name. I'm M-Meredith. Meredith Grey. I was kind of hoping you'd know better than me what's going on here." Where's the ghost of Denny Duquette when you need him?
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"Liiiiiily," he calls out rather pitifully in a slightly whining British accent, "My cutie of the cauldron, my heart and soul would be yours forevermore if you'd be a love and get me some Pepper-Up sans the lecture on drinking myself stupid." He hasn't yet noticed he's laying on some rather uncomfortable ground yet, being distracted by the pounding in his head. "Good damn Godric, I am never doing Firewhiskey Jell-O shots again. ...Least not for this whole next week."
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"Why the bloody hell would my lady want you when she has a wonderfully majestic stud such as myself at her very beck and call?" he says, tongue feeling slightly thick as he scrambles up. Crap, are there leaves in his hair? He tries to shake them out, making the black mess on his head even more unruly, which is saying something. "Been going out with her a year, and she's had plenty of chance to swap out for a lesser model, and ages before that to keep saying no, so."
...Wait. There are more important questions here.
"...Who the bloody hell are you and why is my house now a wood?"
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"Humans aren't supposed to set foot in the Between and since you're not dead, I'm guessing I'm a little farther from Kansas than I thought." Which is a problem. The Between he can deal with- anything else... He's not sure of. Unless this is the Metatron screwing him around again and even then, he very rarely gets other people involved.
"So lets' cut the crap about your ladyfriend and get the real meat here." He inclines his head to the rest of the people in the area, barely visible from the fog. "You know these people?"
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There wasn't much. Unless you liked mists and creepy. Personally, Des wasn't fond of either. "Not unless you want it to suck your soul out through your eyeballs or somethin'." He shouldered his crossbow as he stepped closer and into view. "Ain't fairies grand?"
Reply
"Fairies," chalk one more up to the hunter theory. At least he had better things to fuck around with than his antichrist brother -- even if said things were a bunch of kid's stories and bullshit wrapped up in one. "You think the Easter Bunny's gettin' 'em organized, or did they team up with My Little Pony?" The venomous edge to his sarcasm was hard to miss, but he wasn't here to make enemies so he tried to at least ( ... )
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Had to be. The last thing she remembered was-- actually, it was that weird little Nakamura guy teleporting her and Sylar away from the Bennet home. There could have been more, maybe, but it was all so fuzzy. But she knew she wasn't the beach from the feel of the dirt under her, and a quick scan of the area with her eyes didn't reveal Sylar to her. She was alone, and freezing. God, what she wouldn't give to have her jeans back now. What was with this place?
As she moved out of her laying position to hug her knees to her chest for warmth, she took in her surroundings. Trees weren't supposed to glow like that. And what was with that statue? She'd never done acid before, but something told her that this experience couldn't be too far off.
She was definitely dead.
But being dead wasn't making her any warmer, unsurprisingly, so she slowly got up and started looking around for sticks. With her powers, maybe she could start a fire. And not freeze to death and die. Again. As she started walking, she realized that her leg ( ... )
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"Do I look like I know what's going on here?" Her lips pursed into a thin line, annoyed. She could already tell she wasn't going to like this girl. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she'd decided on it.
After a tension-filled moment, she sighed. "But if you want to be useful, you can help me find some sticks. So we don't ... freeze or whatever."
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"You need to find a place to sit," She nodded in the direction of a rock nearby that would keep her off the ground. "And let me take a look at your leg. I can try to patch it up better than how you've got it."
Without any further instruction, she set off and went to gather an armful of sticks and twigs. She placed them down in a neat pile and glanced up at the other blonde. "You got a lighter or something?"
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The water had been nearly this cold when she fell in. So cold she couldn't breathe, and so it wasn't her fault that-
Pushing the thought from her mind, she starts to stagger over to the giant... head statue. It's steaming, so maybe it's warmer than the rest of the clearing - it's worth checking, at least, since she's shivering so hard by now it seems like she should be able to hear her bones rattling.
Meredith gingerly waves a hand through the mist collected in the mouth. Not as warm as she'd hoped, but at least body temperature, and that's much better than the ambient temperature. Satisfied - if only a little - she spins around and puts her back flat against the statue, arms still folded over her chest, huddled as tightly into herself as she can get while still ( ... )
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…Yeah, she’s been taught so well.
But, at least, she’s calmed down a tiny bit by now - not completely, though Della’s never completely calm, but enough to notice that nobody familiar is actually standing around. No Wolfie, no pack, not even Violet - and Della never expected that she’d miss Violet.
She’s all alone, completely alone - just like she’s always feared. And, while this woman isn’t quite blushing schoolgirl age, Della figures that it’s a start - she’s female after all, and almost young enough to fit into the groups that Della’s been socialising with over the past year.
…Best not to think of those groups, it’d only make her feel guilty and that isn’t a appropriate emotion for a vampire, yet another wise lesson from the claws of Mrs. Jones.
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"Besides freezing, and..." She waves a hand around to encompass the entire clearing. "Yeah, I'm- no-" Meredith shakes her head a little and takes a breath, freeing one hand to rub at her forehead. "I have no idea."
Everyone she met in the hallucination before was dead. She knew those people, knew they were dead, because she saw most of them die. But this girl, and the rest of them...
"Am I... This is a really strange question, and maybe it's kind of personal because we don't know each other, but are you dead?"
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…But, unfortunately for Della, the hard questions just continue. Because life is fun like that.
For a moment she just freezes, staring at Meredith with wide eyes. This is new territory, Mrs. Jones never really covered the matter of death, life and the odd bits that fit into neither. She was only interested in turning her charges into killing machines (a process rather hindered by Wolfie, it had to be said); she never covered whether a vampire was dead or not.
In the end she can only lift her shoulders awkwardly, helpful as always “…I don’t really know.”
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