#notsavior

                                              𝙲𝙻𝙸𝙴𝙽𝚃:   @notsavior​                                      𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴:   TWIN PEAKS  |  ONGOING.                            'is it funny to you? it's not to me.'

Laughter, in its truest and most identifiable form, had not left him. It took a great deal more of genuine comedy to earn such a reaction from Blanc. But he had an air of amusement about him all the same, and perhaps it was exactly what she'd caught on to. Her accusation does nothing to diminish the spark of mirth in his eyes, nor does it change the shape of the curve on his lips. In fact, the detective doesn't even look away from her. He rather takes it as a challenge, fixing his gaze onto hers. 

     { the enforcer wasn't paying much heed to his superior's orders, his babbling portrayed as mere background music whilst the hound did what hounds do best -- sniffing up a trail. one hand woven around the grips of his dominator, in appearance relaxed albeit susceptible to spring forth at the slightest sign of malevolent comportment, the other hand was wandering through the last victim's laptop. the hunting dog was prowling about, whilst the inspector who held him in his charge was loitering without, conversing with those close to the victim, administering their hues, nothing relatively productive. irascible he may be, but to say his choler was unwarranted was too great a lie to bear. }

     { garrett could not help his place within the sybil system, yet even so, dean could not retain much sympathy for the man; or for those he hunted down, for that matter. following that ' night ', his crime coefficient had climbed up too high--much like his father's--and as a result he'd been separated from his baby brother, alienated from the world; encased as a feral beast might be, a reject of the system. sammy had not been allowed to visit him regularly, for fear dean's hue would rub off on his and reduce him to the pitiable wreck his elder had become -- a seething, cynical, bloodthirsty fiend. }

     { he would never be free. not like this -- in lieu of which, he was on a firm leash; a leash did not mean to untangle himself from quite so soon. he had been given what some may call a second chance; fished out of his cage, he was granted return to the system as an enforcement officer. dean did not even hesitate when made the preposition -- his crime coefficient was never going down, this he knew, yet he was a killer in the making. the thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of channelling all that pent-up anger into something -- it was not a good life, but it was the best he could hope for. }

     { he could see sam again; the silver lining that made him accept on the spot. yet the offer was still hindered in some form or another, for it was up to his brother to take the necessary steps, as dean was not permitted to roam the streets of his own accord. it was frustrating for the both of them, but manageable at best. that was the miserable story of how a soldier like dean winchester submitted without question to the chains around his neck. the enforcer had enough wits to make a break for it (he might even just succeed) but he couldn't bring sam down with him; nor could he leave him behind. this life had been entrusted to him, ever since he'd first whisked him out of the flames -- and so he endured, for his brother's sake. he was not entirely unreasonable. }

     { dean made the most of what he received -- though under-appreciated, he was skilled in his field. right about now, someone was playing a dirty, vicious little game. a sanguinary one, for sure. it would seem that legends of the pre-sybil age had spread, and individuals were recklessly giving them a try, perceiving them as nothing more than a joke. after all, what could be safer than sybil's system, right? }

     { this game could not go on any longer. there was no trick, no supernatural act behind this; someone was being exceptionally observant and dealing out death like the grim reaper himself, and it was up to them to stop him. }