#wattcher

                                        "Don't tell me to calm down. I am calm.                                          You're the paranoid one, dude --Just cause                                          I’m walkin' back and forth and constantly                                         checkin' my phone doesn't mean I am                                         paranoid. I'm freakin' calm."

                  he can be a monster.

                  he can be a monster too. pale fingers grasp themselves and there is BLOOD ; nails that drag down the skin and scratch nervously till he bled red. it was dark -- DARK OUTSIDE, and there was no light, no sound. except for the howling, the scraping, HEAVY FOOTSTEPS on the ground. he is not alone and he knows this ; the reason his ANXIETY strung high, his nerves bundled and SHOT, pupils wide -- GOLD HUES piercing in the darkness. he was not ALONE. 

                  he can be a monster too. IT comes at him FIRST -- he is out in the open after all ; he is VULNERABLE. and he sees it so clearly -- a HIDEOUS BEAST ready to DEVOUR him. a monster ; but he can be a monster too. his parents taught him that. how to be a MONSTER. it was the scars on his back, the suffering in his soul, that taught him how. HE can be a MONSTER too, he knows. and he EMBRACES such a thing, despite the deep self loathing it strings upon him.

                  “ don’t be SCARED of me, please. ” but it is a useless thing to say, isn’t it ? the creature was not HUMAN, after all. all it knew was HUNGER, and MORE. it was GREED, wasn’t it ? GLUTTONY. and it wavered under the sudden appearance of a bright light, but its MEAL was right there -- it will not stop when the threat is still minimal. 

                  or so it thought.

                  arthur was no fool. he was RECKLESS -- he was SOFT. but he was no fool. and he knew the thing would FOLLOW ITS STOMACH toward the town before him ; full of people, people who knew fear as they should. people who he never met, but CARED FOR nonetheless. it was his duty, after all, to PROTECT and SERVE. he draws his hand forward, and the creature runs after him, talons scratching into his SIDE. he bleeds RED, but it gives him the opportunity to see if the other did as well. 

                  fire is UNCONTROLLABLE. he can’t help it ; it’s what makes him that terror ( monster, they called him -- monster ) that drove others away. being a HAZARD as he was. he tries not to burn the nearby FOREST ; the trees that sway uneasily, the smoke rising in the air. but the fire -- it has a mind of its own. he grabs such a creature by the ARM and its flesh instantly lights AFLAME ( it’s shrieking in his grasp and HE FEARS NOTHING BUT HIMSELF -- how horrible the sound he elicits, how painful the touch ). 

 Dean shifted the gears as he had the truck try and maneuver its way  up the mountain. He left his car behind with Sam, knowing that they  weren’t going to be able to bring the Impala through the snowy roads  that Dean needed to go on. He’d miss the car, but no matter how  much he bitched, he knew Sam would be able to take care of his baby. 

 Eventually he ended up reaching a small town, the tracks of the creature  leaving behind a noticeable trail in the evergreens as it tried to drain the  landscapes energy. The hunger from the ghost was growing as it moved  to a more inhospitable environment, making Dean worry about the  townspeople. 

 Parking the truck at some kind of building, Dean took out a map he  grabbed before transversing up the mountain. He needed to find  someone to talk to and eventually find a place to stay. It was going to be  a tedious hunt.