Encounterlogs
Deans Odd Encounter Sr Sienna 240923
In a haunting night outside The Alley, a seedy bar shrouded in shadow and mystery, Dean finds himself alone in a flooded parking lot, wrapped in a thick, palpable atmosphere of a brewing storm or something far more unnatural. A strange, melodic hum entices him deeper into the darkness, where reality seems to warp and twist, teasing him with fleeting glimpses of a woman surrounded by an intense, sweet scent that's both attractive and overwhelming. This ethereal figure draws Dean with whispers of desire and comfort, luring him into the water until it violently claims him, pulling him into an abyss where consciousness fades into cold, pressing darkness.
Awakening in an undersea cave, Dean encounters the fae responsible for his abduction, a being of dangerous allure and arcane power. She engages him in a game of wits and will, challenging him with her magic and the mystery of her intentions. Despite his initial resistance and the primal urge to fight this otherworldly creature, Dean is drawn into her trap, negotiating for his freedom with the bravado of a cornered animal. His ordeal in the fae's realm is a twisted dance of pain and pleasure, leaving him broken but strangely compelled by the memory of her. Eventually returned to the dilapidated parking lot with no physical marks of the encounter, Dean is left disoriented, a haunted figure grappling with the remnants of the fae's magic and the indelible mark it leaves on his soul.
(Dean's odd encounter(SRSienna):SRSienna)
[Sun Sep 22 2024]
At a Run-Down Parking Area outside The Alley
The sidewalk gives way here to allow an inlet to a pocked asphalt lot in front of a seedy building. A neon sign identifies the business as The Alley, which would seem to be an old bowling alley, if the flashing image of a set of ten pins being struck by a bowling ball were any indicator. No windows allow for a view within, and the plexiglass doors and walls at the front are covered with various handmade concert flyers well past the point of translucency.
It is night, about 69F(20C) degrees, There is a waning gibbous moon.
(Your target is abuducted through the water to an undersea cave where an oceanic Fae is wanting a romantic or social encounter with them.
)
Hands in his pockets, Dean had just left his sodden bike out on a corner of the parking lot. The shallow, but knee-deep water parts unwillingly with his stride. Broken with each step he takes through to shuffle through it in the direction of his bar. Obviously there isn't anyone else in the lot - not with this flood. Even the regular, heavy-drinkers of the seedy bar are absent in a night like this. All except for him, the owner - possibly wandering by to check for the damages in his usual overdue fashion.
The rain-soaked night has an unusual stillness about it, the kind that presses in on the senses, amplifying every subtle sound and movement. Dean's boots carve slow ripples in the floodwater that clings stubbornly to the parking lot, but the usual ambiance of the rundown lotcreaks, distant cars, the hum of neon - has taken on a heavy, oppressive quality. As he pushes through the water, a low, melodic hum threads through the air, just barely there at first. It rides the wind, almost too faint to catch, but it grows more pronounced with each step. The sound weaves through his thoughts like a net, strange but intoxicating, as though someone - or somethin - is just behind him, whispering in a voice not meant for human ears.
That sweetness in the air hits next, a thick, cloying scent that worms its way into his lungs with every breath. It isnt unpleasant, but its too rich, too syrupy, like its meant to lure him deeper into the night. For a brief moment, the parking lot seems to shimmer at the edges, bending unnaturally, as if reality itself is buckling under some unseen force. From the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse - a figure, a woman, barely visible in his peripheral vision. The sensation is subtle, fleeting, but it tugs at him. Her outline shifts, growing clearer with each heartbeat, yet when he turns to look directly, she's gone. Only the reflection of neon lights bouncing off the water remains.
The whispers continue, curling around his mind, drawing him in. They promise comfort, desire, maybe even lovea siren's call that his senses strain to resist. The floodwater swirls gently around his legs, but there's a shift, an almost imperceptible change in its movement. Where before it was lazy, reacting to his steps, now it seems to churn on its own, small currents tugging at his boots. The air grows colder, the sweetness turning bitter at the edges, and that eerie feeling of not being alone intensifies.
Without warning, the floodwater surges violently upward, as if some unseen force beneath the surface has decided to pull him under. The water wraps around his legs, tightening like a vice, yanking him off his feet. The world tilts, the horizon spinning as the parking lot is swallowed by the darkness of the water. His senses are overwhelmed; cold pressure slamming into him from all sides as the breath is sucked from his lungs.
The soft, luring whispers turn harsh, like nails scraping across glass, and the fleeting image of the woman appears again - closer now, her eyes glowing faintly, her lips curled into something between a smile and a snarl. The water drags him down faster, the force unnatural, unstoppable. The taste of salt invades his mouth, as though the parking lot itself has been consumed by the sea. His limbs grow heavy, movements sluggish, as if the water itself is thickening, turning against him.
Everything goes black as the cold wraps itself around his body like a death shroud. The last thing he hears before the darkness claims him is the faint echo of the womans voice, distant but still sweet, still inviting. Then the world vanishes completelyonly to return a moment later, but everything is wrong. Hes no longer in the parking lot. The scent of the sea is overpowering now, and beneath him, the cold stone of an undersea cave presses against his skin, the sound of distant waves crashing echoing through the hollow space.
The air is still, unnaturally warm now, and the cave stretches out before him, bathed in the dim glow of bioluminescent algae creeping along the walls. In the shadows, something stirssomething familiar, waiting.
Dean is attentive. He's possible the most attentive person in Haven-- It's a stretch to say that his senses are peerless, but they are the apex, at the top of where they should be, could ever be. They're extended at all times, intent and focused on the wandering shadow, the ebb and flow of water he treads through - the scents- That's when he stops, stills, follows that sickly sweet scent of magic in the air with a slight baring of his fangs in withdrawn lips and a grimace. It is sweet - but it fires every nerve, every sense of him that calls for disgust when met with the arcane.
The shadow in his peripheral, the sight of a woman that soon dissappears when he directly turns to confront it is the last straw and his hands are drawn out of his pockets in preparation to inflict violence. Or he would've. Before Dean takes even a single step, he's engulfed. Captured in the haze of rising water and barely catching the closer sight of his assailant - barely extending a hand seeking her throat, but it stops dead in his tracks. He has no more will to move with the cold water thickening in its captivating embrace.
As suddenly as it appeared, and assaulted not by whatever or whoever he encountered, it is replaced by the scent of seawater, and taste of it too. It's disorienting, but he finds himself toppled over on his hands and knees where he's left on the damp floor of a cavern, hacking and sputtering- expelling water quietly for what may only be a few seconds before the monstrosity of him kicks in, and it is hardly a problem to draw in a lungful of air and hiss it out through clenched teeth - raise his head and search with his eyes exactly where he is; more importantly, who he's with. No doubt he's still aware of the disturbing magic in the air, and everything in him screams Fae. Something that allows a low snarl to join his features, mold them to raw wrath in expelled breath misting before his face. "Show yourself," The words are given towards the shadows while he dares to stand up, drip water everywhere along the way. "I'm not in the mood for games."
The air in the cavern is thick, humid with the scent of salt and something floral, but sickeningly sweet; like perfume masking decay. The glow of bioluminescent algae barely illuminates the jagged stone walls, casting eerie shadows that shift and ripple with each flicker of light. The sound of the ocean is ever-present, a distant, rhythmic crashing, but it seems to pulse unnaturally through the stone around him, as though the sea itself were alive and watching.
Dean's snarl reverberates through the space, but no immediate answer comes. The only response is the gentle drip of water echoing from the cavern ceiling, the remnants of the flood that dragged him here still clinging to his skin. His sharp eyes scan the space, taking in every detail, his senses alert and prowling for the slightest movement. The magic hangs heavy, thick with a fae presence that twists the air, making it hard to discern what's real and what's illusion.
Then, a whisper. Soft, almost tender, it winds through the shadows like a lovers caress. "You always were quick to anger." The voice is delicate but holds a resonance that scrapes at the edges of his mind, familiar yet unsettling. Its everywhere and nowhere at once, slipping through the dark corners of the cave, impossible to pin down.
A faint glow appears to his left, barely more than a shimmer at first, but it grows, revealing a figure just on the edge of his vision - again, just beyond where he can focus. It moves with a graceful fluidity, like water itself, slipping in and out of his perception as though the figure is toying with his senses, keeping him off balance. "Why do you fight what you cannot see?" the voice hums, amusement dripping from the words.
"You've been pulled here for a reason," she continues, her voice almost a purr now. "You felt me, didnt you? Even before you knew what you were up against. Tell me, wolf how do you like my games now?"
It's unnerving, and it's disrupting. The overbearing scent filling Dean's lungs with each breath is forgotten easily, or stifled, in favor of focusing on the subtle movements running through the cavern. The drip drop sound of water from above, the shifting shadows, the luminescense. It's all he needs to see perfectly in this amount of darkness. Green eyes glint, too predatory, too wild while he drags the back of his fist by the corner of his mouth and the leather, already wet with saltwater, only soaks up more fluid. It doesn't end dripping down his jaw, leaving his features slick with dampness, hair sticking down to his face, framing his countenance with a rim of black contrasting how pale he is.
"Maybe if you weren't a coward," Dean starts - quite foolishly at that in the face of a real, fullblooded Fae. He's pacing just as the graceful, occluded and obscured figure does - but his stride is more primal. It's the circing of a ferocious wolf - too well aware that here he is dealt all the worst cards. The walls, the ceiling of the cave is too small for him to move while shifted. He's weaponless, without even a knife, or a single plate of sheet metal to cover anything vital. Just a hoodie that weighs him down with how much water it soaked. "And shown yourself, I'd fight you."
Dean tries his best to stay oppossite the approaching creature in spite of the sway and the heady dizziness; the scent of revolting magic just too overbearing no matter how much he ignores. "I've ran into enough fae to know what they're like - how they approach." Dean offers in that low tone of steeled fury, backdrop of a low snarl lives just under his voice. "I've ate enough of your lessers too. So, cut to the chase." Despite it all, there is a crack of bone in his fists. Of fingers digging through the leather glove covering his palm, claws that are erupting, the tell tale signs of a shift with how the structure of his bones align first in his hands. Painfully, but kept at bay and way. "What do you want? If you wanted to kill me, you would've done it already."
The air thickens with tension as Dean's snarled words echo off the stone walls. The predator in him rises, even in the face of something far older, more dangerous, and more twisted than any mundane foe. His pacing mirrors that of a wolf trapped in an unfamiliar cage, every step deliberate, calculating, but the weight of the fae's magic is suffocating. It wraps around him like a noose, filling his lungs with that sweet, unnatural scent that claws at his mind.
The figure watches him, her luminous eyes tracking his every movement with a detached, almost amused curiosity. The faintest chuckle escapes her, barely audible, but it cuts through the cavern like a blade. "Oh, you think this is about fighting, wolf?" Her voice drips with mockery, the kind that insinuates shes in control, and she knows it. "Such... simple desires. You think your claws can tear through me like you did my 'lessers'?"
The flicker of amusement in her tone is unsettling. She stops her graceful, flowing movements, her form still shrouded in shadow and mist but no longer drifting. She lets the silence between them stretch, the weight of her presence pressing down like an unseen hand on his chest. The bioluminescence flickers in the cavern, casting an eerie, shifting light on her scaled form, making it impossible for him to gauge her exact nature.
"You're right, though," she continues, taking a step forward, her form gliding through the air as if the laws of gravity dont apply. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be standing." The smile returns, cruel and gleaming in the dim light. "But where's the fun in that? I dont want your life, Dean. I want something more... interesting."
She tilts her head, studying him with those glowing jade green eyes, savoring his reaction as if this entire encounter is a game; one she has already won. "You intrigue me. You're not like the others I've brought here before. You see, I dont waste my time with weak things, and you... you've already proven yourself worth watching."
Her voice lowers, almost intimate, as she takes another step closer. The air between them crackles with unseen energy, and the magic in the cave pulses, growing heavier with each breath Dean takes. "So, I'm offering you a choice, wolf. We can continue this game of chase, or..." She lets the word hang in the air, the temptation dripping from her tone. "You can indulge me. I want your strength, your ferocity. Show me what that looks like... when you're fully unleashed."
She watches him closely, her smile widening. "Do that, and maybe Ill let you go."
The wariness, that predatory look in Dean's eyes soon to leaves itself to only discomfort. They're pained, suffocated- Dean's breathing is labored with each intake of air while his jaw grinds in place, and in spite of himself, Dean does not yet take a step back even while she shimmers under the bioluminescent light. Each scale molded to perfection upon her figure - no doubt stealing his eyes along with her, all of her - and yet it is the words that lend more arrogance - of an event he doesn't ever remember. "Fucking Fae."
The uttered word, under his breath, it is given with a lighter hiss - one tht slowly relents while she takes a step forward. And in his brazen boldness, mirroring each of her steps, Dean finds himself bridging that gap as well - stepping closer to loom over the being that commands his life. Narrow, green eyes - they're murkier, darker and mossy in comparison to the jaded brighteness they befell, peering without any hint of dissolving to those ready-to-snarl lips drawn enough to bare his fangs. "If I survived you once, I can do it again."
A stray bolt of crackling energy, electric magic erupting in between them scalds his shoulder, no doubt injuring flesh beneath, but it also bounces over and passes easily as he takes it upon himself to wander. Just half a step away from the fae, circling her slowly as if she's somehow made prey even though their roles are very much reversed in this instance. "I can't beat you." Dean affords, eventually - after a long, lengthy silence, dragged out as much as she had done so herself to give weight to his words. "But I can run," That offer, it is said almost sardonically while he comes to a stop at her side, starts to bring his head lower to align his eyes with hers. Her smile is met with only thin lips painted on him in reluctance.
"Fine." He dares, "I'll indulge you." Every word spill with heat from his lungs, fighting the encroaching wave of magic stuffed in his chest, felt on her own lips in their proximity while he speaks and lifts one of his hands - two fingers curled in search of her jaw to tilt her face up closer. "But only if you agree that I'll leave here," His proposition is near chastising with the words he tacks on to make the terms crystal, without a growl, but all of his contained violence still just beneath the skin. "All limbs intact, alive, and as I am."
As Dean steps closer, his words dripping with reluctant compliance, the faes smile sharpens. Her luminous eyes glint with something wicked, something far darker than her enchanting form might suggest. The tension between them is palpable, the air humming with magic and the promise of something far more dangerous than what lies on the surface. She watches him with a predators patience, letting him speak, letting him make his demands, but the amusement never leaves her expression.
When his fingers brush against her jaw, tilting her face upward to meet his gaze, the spark of magic intensifies. Her skin is unnaturally cool, smooth as water over polished stone, and yet theres a pulse beneath it, a rhythm that doesnt belong in this world. She leans into his touch ever so slightly, her lips parting, and for a moment, it seems as though she might actually agree to his terms.
Then the world shifts.
It happens in an instant, like falling into a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. The cave melts away, the bioluminescent glow swallowed by an all-encompassing darkness. Time distorts, bending, stretching, until it loses all meaning. The pressure in Dean's chest grows unbearable, the air around him thick with magic that claws at his senses, twisting his perception. He can feel her presence all around him, as if the fae's very essence is woven into the fabric of this place - this space where reality no longer holds sway.
A sharp, searing pain lances through him, but it's overlaid with an overwhelming surge of sensation that blurs the line between pleasure and agony. His body is caught in a loop, broken and remade again and again, each time more intense than the last. Every nerve is set alight, too much sensation for any human mind to comprehend. It's dizzying, intoxicating, and wrong - perversely wrong. The fae's magic wraps around him like a vice, pulling him deeper into this twisted game, where he is both predator and prey, both victim and participant in this dark ritual of indulgence. And every time, he is mollified by the fleeting images of a curvaceous figure, haunting jade eyes, and soft lightly complected skin. She is everywhere and nowhere, slipping through his grasp as easily as water. He can't tell how much time passes - seconds, hours, lifetimes - but eventually, the pain and pleasure blend into a single, overwhelming force that leaves him gasping, disoriented, and yearning for something he can't name.
Then, as suddenly as it began, it ends.
Dean finds himself back where he started, on his knees in the flooded parking lot, water soaking into his clothes. The oppressive magic is gone, the sweet scent dissipated, and yet something lingers; a strange, nagging feeling of deja vu, as though hes lived this moment before. His body aches, but there are no visible marks, no evidence of the ordeal he just endured. And yet, deep down, he knows it happened. He can feel it in the pit of his stomach, in the way his heart beats just a little too fast, in the way his skin prickles at the thought of her.
The fae is gone, but the memory of her remains, seared into his mind.
All that he's endured, and left like a broken, used up toy in a water-logged parking lot - Dean is on his hands and knees just like when he was first taken. It's different this time, in that his world swims, and no matter how big of a monster something is, there are bigger, badder thing. He's left with a shiver, no injury, nothing, but the memory of her, of the decadence, the pain, the horror, the affection and absolution. In it, Dean finds himself unable to discern one from the other, until his senses swim again, and fingers submerged underwater start to curl in against the asphalt below. Drag them through within a fist that leaves hollow gaps quickly filled with water.
Then, without prompting, he leaves, clambers up to his feet with a dizzying sway and starts to haul himself off to the edge of the lot where it meets the start of a forest that cuts through a line surrounding the road. Just behind a shrub, he keels over, fights the instinct to hurl until he decides he's too good for that. What interrupts him is one of the workers of the bar - checking out which sociopath is high as a kite in the parking lot of a practically closed establishment - until they find the owner. A hand at his back, and after a quiet conversation that takes place with a bunch of "I'm fine,"'s and "Fuck off."'s, he's lead inside for warmth, shelter -- and an ungodly amount of alcohol to fix nerves.
Awakening in an undersea cave, Dean encounters the fae responsible for his abduction, a being of dangerous allure and arcane power. She engages him in a game of wits and will, challenging him with her magic and the mystery of her intentions. Despite his initial resistance and the primal urge to fight this otherworldly creature, Dean is drawn into her trap, negotiating for his freedom with the bravado of a cornered animal. His ordeal in the fae's realm is a twisted dance of pain and pleasure, leaving him broken but strangely compelled by the memory of her. Eventually returned to the dilapidated parking lot with no physical marks of the encounter, Dean is left disoriented, a haunted figure grappling with the remnants of the fae's magic and the indelible mark it leaves on his soul.
(Dean's odd encounter(SRSienna):SRSienna)
[Sun Sep 22 2024]
At a Run-Down Parking Area outside The Alley
The sidewalk gives way here to allow an inlet to a pocked asphalt lot in front of a seedy building. A neon sign identifies the business as The Alley, which would seem to be an old bowling alley, if the flashing image of a set of ten pins being struck by a bowling ball were any indicator. No windows allow for a view within, and the plexiglass doors and walls at the front are covered with various handmade concert flyers well past the point of translucency.
It is night, about 69F(20C) degrees, There is a waning gibbous moon.
(Your target is abuducted through the water to an undersea cave where an oceanic Fae is wanting a romantic or social encounter with them.
)
Hands in his pockets, Dean had just left his sodden bike out on a corner of the parking lot. The shallow, but knee-deep water parts unwillingly with his stride. Broken with each step he takes through to shuffle through it in the direction of his bar. Obviously there isn't anyone else in the lot - not with this flood. Even the regular, heavy-drinkers of the seedy bar are absent in a night like this. All except for him, the owner - possibly wandering by to check for the damages in his usual overdue fashion.
The rain-soaked night has an unusual stillness about it, the kind that presses in on the senses, amplifying every subtle sound and movement. Dean's boots carve slow ripples in the floodwater that clings stubbornly to the parking lot, but the usual ambiance of the rundown lotcreaks, distant cars, the hum of neon - has taken on a heavy, oppressive quality. As he pushes through the water, a low, melodic hum threads through the air, just barely there at first. It rides the wind, almost too faint to catch, but it grows more pronounced with each step. The sound weaves through his thoughts like a net, strange but intoxicating, as though someone - or somethin - is just behind him, whispering in a voice not meant for human ears.
That sweetness in the air hits next, a thick, cloying scent that worms its way into his lungs with every breath. It isnt unpleasant, but its too rich, too syrupy, like its meant to lure him deeper into the night. For a brief moment, the parking lot seems to shimmer at the edges, bending unnaturally, as if reality itself is buckling under some unseen force. From the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse - a figure, a woman, barely visible in his peripheral vision. The sensation is subtle, fleeting, but it tugs at him. Her outline shifts, growing clearer with each heartbeat, yet when he turns to look directly, she's gone. Only the reflection of neon lights bouncing off the water remains.
The whispers continue, curling around his mind, drawing him in. They promise comfort, desire, maybe even lovea siren's call that his senses strain to resist. The floodwater swirls gently around his legs, but there's a shift, an almost imperceptible change in its movement. Where before it was lazy, reacting to his steps, now it seems to churn on its own, small currents tugging at his boots. The air grows colder, the sweetness turning bitter at the edges, and that eerie feeling of not being alone intensifies.
Without warning, the floodwater surges violently upward, as if some unseen force beneath the surface has decided to pull him under. The water wraps around his legs, tightening like a vice, yanking him off his feet. The world tilts, the horizon spinning as the parking lot is swallowed by the darkness of the water. His senses are overwhelmed; cold pressure slamming into him from all sides as the breath is sucked from his lungs.
The soft, luring whispers turn harsh, like nails scraping across glass, and the fleeting image of the woman appears again - closer now, her eyes glowing faintly, her lips curled into something between a smile and a snarl. The water drags him down faster, the force unnatural, unstoppable. The taste of salt invades his mouth, as though the parking lot itself has been consumed by the sea. His limbs grow heavy, movements sluggish, as if the water itself is thickening, turning against him.
Everything goes black as the cold wraps itself around his body like a death shroud. The last thing he hears before the darkness claims him is the faint echo of the womans voice, distant but still sweet, still inviting. Then the world vanishes completelyonly to return a moment later, but everything is wrong. Hes no longer in the parking lot. The scent of the sea is overpowering now, and beneath him, the cold stone of an undersea cave presses against his skin, the sound of distant waves crashing echoing through the hollow space.
The air is still, unnaturally warm now, and the cave stretches out before him, bathed in the dim glow of bioluminescent algae creeping along the walls. In the shadows, something stirssomething familiar, waiting.
Dean is attentive. He's possible the most attentive person in Haven-- It's a stretch to say that his senses are peerless, but they are the apex, at the top of where they should be, could ever be. They're extended at all times, intent and focused on the wandering shadow, the ebb and flow of water he treads through - the scents- That's when he stops, stills, follows that sickly sweet scent of magic in the air with a slight baring of his fangs in withdrawn lips and a grimace. It is sweet - but it fires every nerve, every sense of him that calls for disgust when met with the arcane.
The shadow in his peripheral, the sight of a woman that soon dissappears when he directly turns to confront it is the last straw and his hands are drawn out of his pockets in preparation to inflict violence. Or he would've. Before Dean takes even a single step, he's engulfed. Captured in the haze of rising water and barely catching the closer sight of his assailant - barely extending a hand seeking her throat, but it stops dead in his tracks. He has no more will to move with the cold water thickening in its captivating embrace.
As suddenly as it appeared, and assaulted not by whatever or whoever he encountered, it is replaced by the scent of seawater, and taste of it too. It's disorienting, but he finds himself toppled over on his hands and knees where he's left on the damp floor of a cavern, hacking and sputtering- expelling water quietly for what may only be a few seconds before the monstrosity of him kicks in, and it is hardly a problem to draw in a lungful of air and hiss it out through clenched teeth - raise his head and search with his eyes exactly where he is; more importantly, who he's with. No doubt he's still aware of the disturbing magic in the air, and everything in him screams Fae. Something that allows a low snarl to join his features, mold them to raw wrath in expelled breath misting before his face. "Show yourself," The words are given towards the shadows while he dares to stand up, drip water everywhere along the way. "I'm not in the mood for games."
The air in the cavern is thick, humid with the scent of salt and something floral, but sickeningly sweet; like perfume masking decay. The glow of bioluminescent algae barely illuminates the jagged stone walls, casting eerie shadows that shift and ripple with each flicker of light. The sound of the ocean is ever-present, a distant, rhythmic crashing, but it seems to pulse unnaturally through the stone around him, as though the sea itself were alive and watching.
Dean's snarl reverberates through the space, but no immediate answer comes. The only response is the gentle drip of water echoing from the cavern ceiling, the remnants of the flood that dragged him here still clinging to his skin. His sharp eyes scan the space, taking in every detail, his senses alert and prowling for the slightest movement. The magic hangs heavy, thick with a fae presence that twists the air, making it hard to discern what's real and what's illusion.
Then, a whisper. Soft, almost tender, it winds through the shadows like a lovers caress. "You always were quick to anger." The voice is delicate but holds a resonance that scrapes at the edges of his mind, familiar yet unsettling. Its everywhere and nowhere at once, slipping through the dark corners of the cave, impossible to pin down.
A faint glow appears to his left, barely more than a shimmer at first, but it grows, revealing a figure just on the edge of his vision - again, just beyond where he can focus. It moves with a graceful fluidity, like water itself, slipping in and out of his perception as though the figure is toying with his senses, keeping him off balance. "Why do you fight what you cannot see?" the voice hums, amusement dripping from the words.
"You've been pulled here for a reason," she continues, her voice almost a purr now. "You felt me, didnt you? Even before you knew what you were up against. Tell me, wolf how do you like my games now?"
It's unnerving, and it's disrupting. The overbearing scent filling Dean's lungs with each breath is forgotten easily, or stifled, in favor of focusing on the subtle movements running through the cavern. The drip drop sound of water from above, the shifting shadows, the luminescense. It's all he needs to see perfectly in this amount of darkness. Green eyes glint, too predatory, too wild while he drags the back of his fist by the corner of his mouth and the leather, already wet with saltwater, only soaks up more fluid. It doesn't end dripping down his jaw, leaving his features slick with dampness, hair sticking down to his face, framing his countenance with a rim of black contrasting how pale he is.
"Maybe if you weren't a coward," Dean starts - quite foolishly at that in the face of a real, fullblooded Fae. He's pacing just as the graceful, occluded and obscured figure does - but his stride is more primal. It's the circing of a ferocious wolf - too well aware that here he is dealt all the worst cards. The walls, the ceiling of the cave is too small for him to move while shifted. He's weaponless, without even a knife, or a single plate of sheet metal to cover anything vital. Just a hoodie that weighs him down with how much water it soaked. "And shown yourself, I'd fight you."
Dean tries his best to stay oppossite the approaching creature in spite of the sway and the heady dizziness; the scent of revolting magic just too overbearing no matter how much he ignores. "I've ran into enough fae to know what they're like - how they approach." Dean offers in that low tone of steeled fury, backdrop of a low snarl lives just under his voice. "I've ate enough of your lessers too. So, cut to the chase." Despite it all, there is a crack of bone in his fists. Of fingers digging through the leather glove covering his palm, claws that are erupting, the tell tale signs of a shift with how the structure of his bones align first in his hands. Painfully, but kept at bay and way. "What do you want? If you wanted to kill me, you would've done it already."
The air thickens with tension as Dean's snarled words echo off the stone walls. The predator in him rises, even in the face of something far older, more dangerous, and more twisted than any mundane foe. His pacing mirrors that of a wolf trapped in an unfamiliar cage, every step deliberate, calculating, but the weight of the fae's magic is suffocating. It wraps around him like a noose, filling his lungs with that sweet, unnatural scent that claws at his mind.
The figure watches him, her luminous eyes tracking his every movement with a detached, almost amused curiosity. The faintest chuckle escapes her, barely audible, but it cuts through the cavern like a blade. "Oh, you think this is about fighting, wolf?" Her voice drips with mockery, the kind that insinuates shes in control, and she knows it. "Such... simple desires. You think your claws can tear through me like you did my 'lessers'?"
The flicker of amusement in her tone is unsettling. She stops her graceful, flowing movements, her form still shrouded in shadow and mist but no longer drifting. She lets the silence between them stretch, the weight of her presence pressing down like an unseen hand on his chest. The bioluminescence flickers in the cavern, casting an eerie, shifting light on her scaled form, making it impossible for him to gauge her exact nature.
"You're right, though," she continues, taking a step forward, her form gliding through the air as if the laws of gravity dont apply. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be standing." The smile returns, cruel and gleaming in the dim light. "But where's the fun in that? I dont want your life, Dean. I want something more... interesting."
She tilts her head, studying him with those glowing jade green eyes, savoring his reaction as if this entire encounter is a game; one she has already won. "You intrigue me. You're not like the others I've brought here before. You see, I dont waste my time with weak things, and you... you've already proven yourself worth watching."
Her voice lowers, almost intimate, as she takes another step closer. The air between them crackles with unseen energy, and the magic in the cave pulses, growing heavier with each breath Dean takes. "So, I'm offering you a choice, wolf. We can continue this game of chase, or..." She lets the word hang in the air, the temptation dripping from her tone. "You can indulge me. I want your strength, your ferocity. Show me what that looks like... when you're fully unleashed."
She watches him closely, her smile widening. "Do that, and maybe Ill let you go."
The wariness, that predatory look in Dean's eyes soon to leaves itself to only discomfort. They're pained, suffocated- Dean's breathing is labored with each intake of air while his jaw grinds in place, and in spite of himself, Dean does not yet take a step back even while she shimmers under the bioluminescent light. Each scale molded to perfection upon her figure - no doubt stealing his eyes along with her, all of her - and yet it is the words that lend more arrogance - of an event he doesn't ever remember. "Fucking Fae."
The uttered word, under his breath, it is given with a lighter hiss - one tht slowly relents while she takes a step forward. And in his brazen boldness, mirroring each of her steps, Dean finds himself bridging that gap as well - stepping closer to loom over the being that commands his life. Narrow, green eyes - they're murkier, darker and mossy in comparison to the jaded brighteness they befell, peering without any hint of dissolving to those ready-to-snarl lips drawn enough to bare his fangs. "If I survived you once, I can do it again."
A stray bolt of crackling energy, electric magic erupting in between them scalds his shoulder, no doubt injuring flesh beneath, but it also bounces over and passes easily as he takes it upon himself to wander. Just half a step away from the fae, circling her slowly as if she's somehow made prey even though their roles are very much reversed in this instance. "I can't beat you." Dean affords, eventually - after a long, lengthy silence, dragged out as much as she had done so herself to give weight to his words. "But I can run," That offer, it is said almost sardonically while he comes to a stop at her side, starts to bring his head lower to align his eyes with hers. Her smile is met with only thin lips painted on him in reluctance.
"Fine." He dares, "I'll indulge you." Every word spill with heat from his lungs, fighting the encroaching wave of magic stuffed in his chest, felt on her own lips in their proximity while he speaks and lifts one of his hands - two fingers curled in search of her jaw to tilt her face up closer. "But only if you agree that I'll leave here," His proposition is near chastising with the words he tacks on to make the terms crystal, without a growl, but all of his contained violence still just beneath the skin. "All limbs intact, alive, and as I am."
As Dean steps closer, his words dripping with reluctant compliance, the faes smile sharpens. Her luminous eyes glint with something wicked, something far darker than her enchanting form might suggest. The tension between them is palpable, the air humming with magic and the promise of something far more dangerous than what lies on the surface. She watches him with a predators patience, letting him speak, letting him make his demands, but the amusement never leaves her expression.
When his fingers brush against her jaw, tilting her face upward to meet his gaze, the spark of magic intensifies. Her skin is unnaturally cool, smooth as water over polished stone, and yet theres a pulse beneath it, a rhythm that doesnt belong in this world. She leans into his touch ever so slightly, her lips parting, and for a moment, it seems as though she might actually agree to his terms.
Then the world shifts.
It happens in an instant, like falling into a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. The cave melts away, the bioluminescent glow swallowed by an all-encompassing darkness. Time distorts, bending, stretching, until it loses all meaning. The pressure in Dean's chest grows unbearable, the air around him thick with magic that claws at his senses, twisting his perception. He can feel her presence all around him, as if the fae's very essence is woven into the fabric of this place - this space where reality no longer holds sway.
A sharp, searing pain lances through him, but it's overlaid with an overwhelming surge of sensation that blurs the line between pleasure and agony. His body is caught in a loop, broken and remade again and again, each time more intense than the last. Every nerve is set alight, too much sensation for any human mind to comprehend. It's dizzying, intoxicating, and wrong - perversely wrong. The fae's magic wraps around him like a vice, pulling him deeper into this twisted game, where he is both predator and prey, both victim and participant in this dark ritual of indulgence. And every time, he is mollified by the fleeting images of a curvaceous figure, haunting jade eyes, and soft lightly complected skin. She is everywhere and nowhere, slipping through his grasp as easily as water. He can't tell how much time passes - seconds, hours, lifetimes - but eventually, the pain and pleasure blend into a single, overwhelming force that leaves him gasping, disoriented, and yearning for something he can't name.
Then, as suddenly as it began, it ends.
Dean finds himself back where he started, on his knees in the flooded parking lot, water soaking into his clothes. The oppressive magic is gone, the sweet scent dissipated, and yet something lingers; a strange, nagging feeling of deja vu, as though hes lived this moment before. His body aches, but there are no visible marks, no evidence of the ordeal he just endured. And yet, deep down, he knows it happened. He can feel it in the pit of his stomach, in the way his heart beats just a little too fast, in the way his skin prickles at the thought of her.
The fae is gone, but the memory of her remains, seared into his mind.
All that he's endured, and left like a broken, used up toy in a water-logged parking lot - Dean is on his hands and knees just like when he was first taken. It's different this time, in that his world swims, and no matter how big of a monster something is, there are bigger, badder thing. He's left with a shiver, no injury, nothing, but the memory of her, of the decadence, the pain, the horror, the affection and absolution. In it, Dean finds himself unable to discern one from the other, until his senses swim again, and fingers submerged underwater start to curl in against the asphalt below. Drag them through within a fist that leaves hollow gaps quickly filled with water.
Then, without prompting, he leaves, clambers up to his feet with a dizzying sway and starts to haul himself off to the edge of the lot where it meets the start of a forest that cuts through a line surrounding the road. Just behind a shrub, he keels over, fights the instinct to hurl until he decides he's too good for that. What interrupts him is one of the workers of the bar - checking out which sociopath is high as a kite in the parking lot of a practically closed establishment - until they find the owner. A hand at his back, and after a quiet conversation that takes place with a bunch of "I'm fine,"'s and "Fuck off."'s, he's lead inside for warmth, shelter -- and an ungodly amount of alcohol to fix nerves.