Blaine Anderson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
justlove) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2013-08-06 09:17 pm
justlove) wrote in entrancelogs2013-08-06 09:17 pm
so I run now to the things they said could restore me
Who: Blaine Anderson and open. He'll be joined eventually by special guests Annie Edison and John Blake, but feel free to start a new thread if you want your character to run into him somewhere.
Where: Various parts of the mansion.
When: 8/6, evening.
Rating: PG-13, but it should be fairly tame.
Summary: Blaine's alive again but he's got some things to work out.
The Story:
Blaine had never spent much time dwelling on what it might be like to come back to life after being killed.
At least, he hadn't until the moment he actually was killed. It had been a day or two since he came back to life, but he still didn't feel quite like himself, like his strength hadn't fully returned, and when he looked in the mirror, it was obvious that the color hadn't quite returned to his skin.
And let's not get started on the nightmares of demonic hounds that have caused him to wake up yelling most of the time; the few times that he didn't wake up that way weren't much better. The cold sweats and the feeling that he needed to jump at every shadow and every creaking floorboard were bad enough.
So if anyone were to ask Blaine how he was sleeping, the answer would have very obviously been "not well". And that was explanation enough for the fact that Blaine was up and pacing through the mansion, thanks to yet another nightmare featuring Hellhounds' fangs seizing him by the throat. It didn't matter where he went, not really, just as long as he could sufficiently distract himself from dwelling on the horrific images his mind conjured up.
He stopped outside his room to think where he wanted to go; the library was an option, and so was the kitchen, and even though he wasn't hungry in the least, it was quiet in there. Not that his room wasn't quiet, but he really needed a change of pace. There were also the seemingly endless number of halls, so he figured if he got tired of walking to random rooms, he could just pace the hallways again.
But for now, the kitchen seemed like as good a place as any, so he went there and took a seat and just took in the quiet hum of the refrigerator, hoping to focus on something else other than the memories he had of murderous hounds. A few seconds went by, with Blaine continuing to just sit there, but suddenly, the quiet was disrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. He tensed, and he glanced around him, as if he hoped to find somewhere he could hide.
The hellhounds might be by all accounts gone, but that didn't mean Blaine felt any more relaxed. Whoever was out there, he hoped they were stopping by for a simple bite to eat of something that wasn't him.
Where: Various parts of the mansion.
When: 8/6, evening.
Rating: PG-13, but it should be fairly tame.
Summary: Blaine's alive again but he's got some things to work out.
The Story:
Blaine had never spent much time dwelling on what it might be like to come back to life after being killed.
At least, he hadn't until the moment he actually was killed. It had been a day or two since he came back to life, but he still didn't feel quite like himself, like his strength hadn't fully returned, and when he looked in the mirror, it was obvious that the color hadn't quite returned to his skin.
And let's not get started on the nightmares of demonic hounds that have caused him to wake up yelling most of the time; the few times that he didn't wake up that way weren't much better. The cold sweats and the feeling that he needed to jump at every shadow and every creaking floorboard were bad enough.
So if anyone were to ask Blaine how he was sleeping, the answer would have very obviously been "not well". And that was explanation enough for the fact that Blaine was up and pacing through the mansion, thanks to yet another nightmare featuring Hellhounds' fangs seizing him by the throat. It didn't matter where he went, not really, just as long as he could sufficiently distract himself from dwelling on the horrific images his mind conjured up.
He stopped outside his room to think where he wanted to go; the library was an option, and so was the kitchen, and even though he wasn't hungry in the least, it was quiet in there. Not that his room wasn't quiet, but he really needed a change of pace. There were also the seemingly endless number of halls, so he figured if he got tired of walking to random rooms, he could just pace the hallways again.
But for now, the kitchen seemed like as good a place as any, so he went there and took a seat and just took in the quiet hum of the refrigerator, hoping to focus on something else other than the memories he had of murderous hounds. A few seconds went by, with Blaine continuing to just sit there, but suddenly, the quiet was disrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. He tensed, and he glanced around him, as if he hoped to find somewhere he could hide.
The hellhounds might be by all accounts gone, but that didn't mean Blaine felt any more relaxed. Whoever was out there, he hoped they were stopping by for a simple bite to eat of something that wasn't him.
no subject
He pressed through the kitchen door and was shocked to see Blaine sitting at the table. Footsteps coming to a dead stop, Blake looked on with a mixture of relief and upset. Flashes of the last time he'd seen Blaine alive sent his hair on end, but his overall appreciation for Anderson's vitality far outweighed any emotions he was feeling over his inability to save Blaine.
His heart kicked into overdrive and he stepped forward, expression changing, voice thick. "Jesus, it's good to see you, kid." And he wasn't allowing anything to stand in the way of showing that. Marching right to the singer, he reached out and plucked Blaine up out of his chair, pulling him into a tight, tight hug. "'m sorry 'bout what happened. Sorry I couldn't save you."
no subject
But there wasn't much time to think, because suddenly he was being hauled out of his chair and pulled into a hug. He just stood there a little awkwardly, a twisted up expression showing itself plainly on his face.
In the nightmares that he'd been having, one scene kept showing up again and again, with different people. People that he knew would be talking with him one minute, and the next, they morphed into his personal vision of what a Hellhound looked like.
But Blake wasn't sprouting fur and fangs (at least, not yet he wasn't), so Blaine took that as reason enough for him to give a little and relax into the hug. "It wasn't your fault. I don't think anything could have stopped them once they... once they started," he mumbled finally, ignoring the breath that caught in his throat as he did.
no subject
"Think maybe you're right, but... coulda done somethin'." And, in reality, he had done something when he'd recruited assistance in order to track down the beasts that had torn his friend apart. It was enough to feel a bit justified, but the whole act wasn't so pointed that he felt he'd gone too far.
Finally, finally, he pulled away from Blaine and stepped far enough away that he could give him a good once over. "Yep, definitely one piece. Good, man, good." He wasn't the least bit misty-eyed at all, nope.
no subject
"If you'd stayed, you probably would have died too," he replied, and the volume of his tone dropped a few more notches. He'd been quiet to start with, but it turned out he could get even quieter than he already was. "You didn't get hurt or anything, did you?" A vague memory of himself shouting at Blake to leave the scene came to mind just then, and he looked at Blake, fervently hoping he'd say he came through unharmed.
He just stood there as Blake looked him over, noting the odd look in the older man's eyes. Was he really getting misty-eyed because of him? "They're gone now, right? The Hellhounds?"
He couldn't help but tack that question onto the one he'd already asked, because if Blake said they weren't, he'd be hard-pressed to not turn around right then and hightail it back to his room. Not that his room was any safer than the kitchen, but it was a gut reaction, and gut reactions aren't always logical.
no subject
As he took a seat, he pulled the chair cockeyed to the table so he could mostly face Blaine. "Yeah, Hellhounds're gone. Took care of a coupla them with some help. Got the ones that got you," he explained, then went on to tell Anderson how Kevin had created the bombs and Dean has helped Blake track the creatures, corner them, and destroy them accordingly. John Blake's not generally a vindictive man, but that had been something he couldn't bring himself to pass over.
"Everythin' worked out, though — barely a scratch," he finished, summing up the answer to Blaine's previous question. John didn't like that there was no easy resolution for the boy's hurt, but at least Blaine could put his mind at ease knowing there was someone out there willing to fight for him, even after the fact.
no subject
Yes, they were close, and yes, Blaine considered Blake his best friend in the mansion, but he'd never expected him to put that much effort into something like that. "Blake, you didn't have to do that. I didn't expect you to. That's way more than I ever expected from- well, anyone, I guess."
But Blake wasn't just some person who was part of some random group of people. He was more than that; he was his friend, and while Blaine was sure the majority of people in Wonderland were loyal and true, this just solidified for him that Blake was one of the most loyal and the most true people currently in the mansion.
"I really owe you," he said finally, even though he knew there wasn't really anything he could do to pay him back for that. That didn't mean he wasn't going to try, however.
no subject
And pay they had.
Blake cleared his throat and shook his head. "Don't owe me anythin', man. Know that we're family and family does for each other," he said, a very firm and sensible smile on his face. He wanted Anderson to hear that as a fact more than anything, because he cared, and because Blaine was one of the few people in the whole of Wonderland that John would get a little extreme to take care of.
"Listen, you never gotta worry 'bout owin' me for somethin' like that. First of all, didn't do nothin' worthwhile, so you can't owe me for nothin'. An' second, want you to know I'm doin' it 'cause I care. Care we got goin' between us means a lot to me. Shouldn't take death to say it, but..."
no subject
But even though the Hellhounds were dead, and life could start going back to normal (at least until the next event), somehow, Blaine thought that getting back to a more even keel wasn't going to be that simple. At least, not for him.
"Nothing worthwhile, Blake? I think that qualifies as the most worthwhile thing anyone's done in a long time." And when he said that, he meant that it encompassed the time he's spent in Wonderland, but also his life back in Ohio too. Obviously, Hellhounds don't walk the streets of Lima, but it's still meaningful to him.
"I know that, and it's because I also care that I feel like I really do owe you. I don't have a clue how I could ever pay you back, but even if it's the smallest, stupidest thing ever, I'm going to try." And as he said that, he finally looked up at Blake, hoping that somehow, his intensity and fervor would come across.
no subject
"Hey, you can owe me," Blake admitted, "but payin' up's gonna be kinda hard." When it came to him, there was a good chance that he wouldn't allow Anderson the chance to repay the favor. These kinds of acts aren't made to be repaid, no matter how appropriate Blaine feels that repayment would be. No, acts of kindness and love are just that, and John expects nothing in return.
He wasn't entirely beyond letting the young man do something in return, though, just nothing stupid or apt to inflict injury or grand enough for ponies. So he offered up a chance at some kind of relief. "How 'bout you just drop me a few new song recommendations every once in a while? Enjoy bein' able to spread my wings a bit, think you're good at helpin' with that." He smiled. "That sit with you okay? Or do I gotta come up with somethin' else?"
no subject
That in itself was reason enough to want to stay in Wonderland, to the point that all the crap that the place could throw at them didn't matter so much. It was strange but it was like it gave Blaine a sense of purpose, and it also served to fill up the strange emptiness that had overtaken him without him really noticing it.
It couldn't be called zest for life, not really, but it was something Blaine needed. "Yeah, that's something I can live with. I can already think of some songs I think you'd really like. The next chance I get, they're all yours."