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15 March 2010 @ 10:31 pm
Who: Dean Winchester & Zoey
Time/Location: Sometime during the day, in the apartments
Summary: Zoey found something interesting in the manor and goes to Dean for an expert opinion on it.
Rating: PG? Probably?
Warnings: Spotty language at most.
Status: Closed, in progress

It was more than a little creepy that Zoey always woke up with whatever it was that she'd found in the manor while she was asleep, and none of it really made any sense. She stared down at the old notebook on her desk with a strange expression on her face, as though she were trying to convince herself that it wasn't actually there. But it was. She sighed as she pulled her jacket on, shaking her head a bit as she did so. Part of her was nervous about bothering the poor guy next door with her silly crap, but if her last trip through the manor was any indication, it was something that wasn't going away, and she needed help.

Grabbing the notebook off the desk, she turned on her heels and headed out the door. She, herself, had made it a point to stay in the same room she'd been in ever since she'd gotten here in case anyone needed to find her, but she could only hope that everyone else in the building had the same idea. Last time she met this guy, he was in the room next to hers. With a little luck, he was still there. Unfortunately, she hadn't gotten his name-- or maybe she had, and she just forgot what it was. Yeah, that was going to make for a great impression. Ask a guy for help but don't know his name.

Grimacing a bit, she steeled her nerves and landed a few hard knocks on the door next to hers.

"Hello? Neighbor?" she called out. "It's Zoey from next door."
fightthesleep on March 16th, 2010 10:58 pm (UTC)
The sound of Zoey’s voice made Dean realise he had just been dangerously close to falling asleep. Exhausted, he had convinced himself that a little shut-eye wouldn’t hurt any. After he’d cursed his own stupid self for being so weak, he dragged himself to the apartment door.

He didn’t know why she was here, but he was more than a little relieved for some company. It would help to keep him awake. Though, it was somewhat bizarre to be called ‘neighbour’. He’d never really had a neighbour before; it was an awkward adjustment.

After he’d made sure it was Zoey behind the door (though he did it half-heartedly, seeing as he no longer had Sam to protect too), he opened it to invite her in.

“Yeah, I remember you. What’s up?”
ZOEY;: cautious optimism ;called_shotgun on March 17th, 2010 07:00 am (UTC)
Zoey had to hold herself back from breathing a sigh of relief when the door opened to reveal that it was, indeed, the same guy staying there as before. She offered him the faintest of smiles as she took his invitation to enter, strolling inside his room but not moving much past the doorway. In another life, she would've felt nervous and awkward as hell just walking into some strange guy's place like this, but recently? She just couldn't bring herself to discriminate. Not anymore.

"Hey, sorry if I'm bothering you or anything," she said, "but I found something that seemed important when I was in the manor, and. Well. I remembered the conversation I had with you before, and I was wondering if you could take a look at it and see if you can make any sense out of it."

With that, she offered the old, worn notebook to him. There was only one legible page in the whole thing, but that one page read:

While continuing my research, I stumbled upon the existence of the shrine that is perhaps the origin of the sleeping priestess.

The shrine is very small and hidden away within the depths of a mountain. It appeared just as in the drawing.

There are normally no worshippers and according to stories from the small village nearby, it is a shrine where you could "offer your pain".

When I called upon the head of the family, she said they allow visitors until the snow melts.
They carry out a rite here to protect a sacred area in the mountain. Men are not allowed in the rite, but it seems every few years they invite men in order to continue the bloodline. They call them "outsiders." I think that I've heard of a similar custom.

The guests who come in winter while the snow falls all hide their faces and pull large bundles on wagons.

It resembles a funeral procession.

The rite carried out on their behalf must be connected to the song of the "sleeping priestess".
fightthesleep on March 17th, 2010 08:00 pm (UTC)
Eagerly, Dean snatched the offered notebook.

Sweet, finally something to work with,’ was his first thought.

Crap, I hope it’s in English,’ was his second. Without Sam, it would take him donkey yonks to translate it, if he did even manage it.

Dean tried to be careful with the notebook as he flipped through the pages, appreciating on first glance that it was pretty damn old. He was a little frustrated that most of it was unreadable to him; there was only the one page which Zoey had offered him that he could accurately make out.

Without a word spoken aloud, Dean read the passage. It felt odd to read something purely in silence, without making some stupid wisecrack towards Sam about something. Worse than that, it felt wrong.

The feeling squirmed around unforgiving and spiteful in his gut, distracting Dean for a while from reading properly.

It took him a while to get a handle on it. Get it together; you’re a Winchester with a damn job to do.

He turned to Zoey, not quite meeting her eyes, because his mind was still half-way back to somewhere else with Sam and despite how much he stubbornly told himself he had a hunt on his hands, he wasn’t ready to wrench himself away from the memories of his little brother. How long had he been dead? Two days? A week? He didn’t remember. He hated the way time had moved so weirdly here.

“Sounds like something really messed up was going down in that place,” Dean said bluntly. “It doesn’t sound like a funeral procession to me. It sounds like some kind of ritual. They use it to protect their mountain, so it’s got to be something powerful. If it worked. I’m thinking it’s either a curse or a haunting, maybe even both. If the shrine is the origin of the sleeping priestess, then it could even be the origin of the curse. So we should salt’n’burn it, see what happens.”

He paused. It took him a moment to realise he was waiting for someone to interrupt. Dad, Sam, anyone. Damn, he wants to go back to where Sam is. He might not be moving and dead, but…

“Anyway,” Dean continued, visibly trying to get a grip again, “Whatever the case, we need to find out more about this ritual. It’s gotta be the reason why we’re here. Sleeping priestess – we fall asleep, we end up there. ‘The guests who come in winter while the snow falls’ – well, it was snowing when I got here.” He laughed bitterly. “We’re the guests.”
ZOEY;: in the middle ;called_shotgun on March 17th, 2010 10:54 pm (UTC)
"That's what I was afraid of," she said grimly. "But we have a pretty big problem. There's no way of getting to that shrine, at least, not that I can tell. Me and one of my friends even jumped off the roof and scaled one of the freaking walls of the manor, but we just couldn't get out. If our first plan is to burn down the shrine, we should probably start thinking of a plan B."

The fact of the matter was that she had a lot of questions about the whole thing. Most pressing on her mind was how much this guy knew as much as he did. For her own part, Zoey was going off of trends and things she saw in movies and read in books. But this guy... it was almost as though he wasn't phased by any of this at all, that ghosts and weird rituals were somehow business as usual.

She kept it to herself for now. There would be a time and place for all of that. For now, she did what she could to file away the information that was being given to her. Okay, so this was something maybe to protect the mountain? That was new. But what to do with this information?

"We tried making a mess of a room in the manor to see if we could attract that one ghost that looks like she might be a priestess, you know?" she went on to explain. "But no luck there. There was no sign of her at all. Though Ezio swears he saw some other ghost. Some little girl or something. I don't know, he wasn't very specific. And after that, when we split ways and kept looking, I couldn't find anything else that might help, either. I guess I'm just hoping that whatever we need to find is in the manor, but I don't know what I'm even supposed to be looking for."
fightthesleep on March 18th, 2010 11:05 pm (UTC)
“Aw, crap,” Dean cursed. “Should of known it wouldn’t be that easy.”

Zoey’s comment about the little girl ghost made Dean think back to what that lady, Yuna, had said to him. She had been convinced there were ‘many’ spirits. Dean was inclined to agree with her, as more ghosts would definitely provide enough steam for the curse or whatever it was they were all trapped in, to keep them all confined in the place.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he thought carefully. “If we can’t get there… Then maybe the shrine isn’t part of the curse or the haunting. It’s hard to explain-” Sam would explain it perfectly, never been Dean’s job to explain shit to people “-but everything that’s part of the curse, even the cause, has to be in the curse. Uhm… If that makes sense? So, either it’s not the source, or it’ll turn up later.”

Dean hated having to explain this to someone else. With Sam, they just got straight to the task at hand. Sam did the boring jobs, Dean did the manly ones, and at the end of a long night, they trudged home, exhausted, with a job well done.

With this stranger, Zoey, he had to explain stuff. On top of that, he was worried if she even believed him or not. Whatever. Without Sam or John, he’d be hunting on his own.

“Plan B is we find out about this song, so we find out about the sleeping priestess. Hopefully before she comes after us… This ‘offer your pain’ bull is not something I’m liking the sound of.”

Idly, he flicked through the notebook once more. He was still a little pissed off he couldn’t read it all - most of what they were searching for could be in the damn thing.

“And we should burn this,” he added spitefully. It would make him feel a whole lot better more than anything.