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driftfleet2016-01-20 03:15 pm
heavenonearth) wrote in driftfleet2016-01-20 03:15 pm
Entry tags:
.oo1 / video + action
Who: Castiel (the cool one),
Broadcast: Fleetwide.
Action: The Marsiva
When: January 20th, late morning.
[ waking up confused isn't necessarily anything particularly new for castiel, but generally speaking in that case he's usually hungover, and when the fog clears he's in his bed, somewhere safe and familiar, not somewhere, well - like this. immediately he's alert and awake, feeling under his pillow for a knife that isn't there, sharp, instinctual panic burgeoning in his gut, but he controls it. you better bet he's got no idea he's being watched, too.
it's peaceful. this place reminds him of heaven, with its clean, sleek design and cool, quiet atmosphere, but he doesn't trust it any more than he trusts heaven. tense and wary, one hand flies immediately to his throat, then he's pulling it back to look at is as if he's expecting to see something there, but it's clean, and when he tugs up his shirt there's no blood there either, no bullet holes, no gaping wounds, only the same old scars. castiel stands, runs both hands through his unkempt hair, and eases in a steadying breath. he's a rangy looking thing, with a lean, hungry look about him, overgrown scruff and hair but hey - at least he's clean. cleaner than he's been in a long while. and someone did him the service of mending the long worn holes in his jeans and canvas jacket so that's.. nice. i guess.
all right, inventory first. his knife and handgun are both missing, naturally, but that doesn't mean he has to be happy about it. sitting again on the edge of his bunk, in his pockets he finds a mostly full pack of cigarettes with two joints stuffed in with them, a blue plastic bic lighter, a half bottle of pills, a two month old supply list, creased and folded, and a bottlecap. not too much of use when it comes to keeping yourself alive. exhaling in a puff of air, he stuffs it all back into his pockets, even the list and the bottlecap, and gets to his feet again. might as well pick around, right?
and by pick around i mean find the cafeteria almost instantly and gawp in awe at all of the food. ]
.. you're kidding me.
[ when you live in a world where things like toilet paper are scarce treasures, you really learn to appreciate food. there is zero hesitation before cas is all but diving at it like a man starved, picking at everything indiscriminately, eating and drinking and eating some more. he doesn't sit, only hovers near the counters like a buzzard over roadkill, and you'd better bet he's filling his pockets, too, with everything and anything he can fit.
all right, so maybe this isn't so bad. he should probably be wary of the food and all, but it's far too late for that. feel free to stumble across him/interrupt him at any point, he has no idea he's on candid camera. ]
Broadcast: Fleetwide.
Action: The Marsiva
When: January 20th, late morning.
[ waking up confused isn't necessarily anything particularly new for castiel, but generally speaking in that case he's usually hungover, and when the fog clears he's in his bed, somewhere safe and familiar, not somewhere, well - like this. immediately he's alert and awake, feeling under his pillow for a knife that isn't there, sharp, instinctual panic burgeoning in his gut, but he controls it. you better bet he's got no idea he's being watched, too.
it's peaceful. this place reminds him of heaven, with its clean, sleek design and cool, quiet atmosphere, but he doesn't trust it any more than he trusts heaven. tense and wary, one hand flies immediately to his throat, then he's pulling it back to look at is as if he's expecting to see something there, but it's clean, and when he tugs up his shirt there's no blood there either, no bullet holes, no gaping wounds, only the same old scars. castiel stands, runs both hands through his unkempt hair, and eases in a steadying breath. he's a rangy looking thing, with a lean, hungry look about him, overgrown scruff and hair but hey - at least he's clean. cleaner than he's been in a long while. and someone did him the service of mending the long worn holes in his jeans and canvas jacket so that's.. nice. i guess.
all right, inventory first. his knife and handgun are both missing, naturally, but that doesn't mean he has to be happy about it. sitting again on the edge of his bunk, in his pockets he finds a mostly full pack of cigarettes with two joints stuffed in with them, a blue plastic bic lighter, a half bottle of pills, a two month old supply list, creased and folded, and a bottlecap. not too much of use when it comes to keeping yourself alive. exhaling in a puff of air, he stuffs it all back into his pockets, even the list and the bottlecap, and gets to his feet again. might as well pick around, right?
and by pick around i mean find the cafeteria almost instantly and gawp in awe at all of the food. ]
.. you're kidding me.
[ when you live in a world where things like toilet paper are scarce treasures, you really learn to appreciate food. there is zero hesitation before cas is all but diving at it like a man starved, picking at everything indiscriminately, eating and drinking and eating some more. he doesn't sit, only hovers near the counters like a buzzard over roadkill, and you'd better bet he's filling his pockets, too, with everything and anything he can fit.
all right, so maybe this isn't so bad. he should probably be wary of the food and all, but it's far too late for that. feel free to stumble across him/interrupt him at any point, he has no idea he's on candid camera. ]
[except the entire universe is apparently watching you all the time]
castiel can rattle off bullet points. he can go to that numb place inside himself and give sam a rundown of the events that led up to the utter destruction of everything he'd known and loved, and it won't be easy, but he can manage. compartmentalize the pain, the same way he has to when they plan out a mission, or dive into a nest of demons or crotes. but going into all that sticky nonsense about feelings.. that's another road entirely.
but for the most part, sam's asking questions that have easy enough answers, all nice and objective. ]
There were quarantine zones, yeah. We were in a safe camp. Or, you know, safe as we could manage. Dean's been there the whole time. Chuck, too. And Bobby, until.. [ gesture. his eyes flick down, then back up again. ] .. other refugees, too.
[ real nice of dean not to tell you a damned thing, sam, but i mean, that guy's a jerk. cas loves him, but he's a jerk. super jerk, where he comes from. once sam's talking about helping, though, castiel's quickly shaking his head, taking another long drag. ]
That's a nice offer, Sam, but.. not gonna happen. We're uh -- [ a beat. ] -- there's nothing to be done. You've got your own time to be worried about.
no subject
He frowns, getting that determined sort of look to his face he's get a penchant for. Not quite the same grim determination to save his brother from Hell, because he's learned that nothing is so straightforward or plausible from his time at home, but... But — ]
Look... I'm not saying that it's a guarantee. It's not, and I wouldn't want you to think like that, because the way these places work are mostly unfair. But... the last place I was stuck in... a lot of people made it out of there. Could go to other worlds, or travel back home to fix what was happening there.
...
Just — keep it in your mind as a possibility, okay? If we get out of here, too, I'll make sure you get somewhere. Safe.
Besides, you're one of the only friends I've been able to keep back home.
Won't hurt for me to focus on helping.
no subject
it was their endgame. he knows it. he'd known it the moment he'd agreed to that stupid plan to begin with, known it the moment he'd followed the order to go into that abandoned sanitarium knowing full well he wouldn't be walking out of it again. either lucifer's dead, or dean's dead, and either way cas is dead, so this place? it's the best he's got. there's no fixing anything, it's so bad there, everything's a mess, not without the hand of god could they hope to set anything right again.
but sam is so damned optimistic. cas sits forward with elbows on his knees, dragging a hand slow over his face. he's tired. ]
.. all right.
[ he says, even if he doesn't feel it. even if it makes his heart heavy. sam just wants to help, and even if it's impossible, hopeless, cas can't not let him try. ]
We'll do what we can.
no subject
But that's not him. He'd never say yes.
... Dean knew that, once, and that's what almost irrevocably destroyed their relationship. It cut deeper than his brother will ever understand. Live and learn. Forgive but can't forget, in the furthest dark corner of his mind.
He's nervous Cas will go off on him about that faith and hope - slight though it is, and Sam wouldn't blame him. Whenever he's from is bad. Being told there's any hope for salvation, even by their own hands... It's hard to imagine. But Sam did see it happen. It's not blind. He breathes out, nodding with the slightest smile.]
Alright. Alright then.
Well, I mean... I've tortured you enough thinking about that. Did you,,, have any questions of your own? Blanket statement, applies to whatever.
no subject
it's a lie, of course - or well, not a lie, but certainly an empty promise to placate sam, but it'll hold, it'll do. false hope is better than no hope at all, a statement he'd never thought he'd buy into until he felt it for himself, just how cold and terrible true hopelessness really feels. ]
Tons, probably.
[ he says, and shrugs. ]
But I'll be damned if I can think of them all right now. Maybe I'll compile a list. How long have you been here?
no subject
Not very long. Over a month? Two? Before this, though, I was in a pirate world. And before that, a bunch of us fell into a universe where spirits kept us under their thumb. I've been getting pretty used to showing up anywhere but home, honestly.
no subject
Sounds like you've been pretty busy. [ pirate sam... ] Who knew this sort of thing was so.. common.
no subject
Very busy. Considering our usual luck, I'm not surprised we're getting swept into other worlds.
I've also visited a dimension where you, me, Dean — we're all played by actors, and it's a show. Your name was, uh. Misha? It was a confusing time. Maybe more confusing than any of this, honestly.
Space is new, at least. They're mixing it up.
no subject
[ he's pulling a face. what kind of name is that? humans are so weird.
anyway, he shakes his head and shrugs it off. ]
Well, here's hoping we can make the best of it, I suppose. I've always enjoyed the view from up here, anyway. The cosmos is a pretty beautiful place.
no subject
Yeah... They are. Have you seen out the window there yet?
It's a pretty good view.
[He enjoyed it a lot, when he was waiting for his fleet shuffling.]
You're among good people. Well, mostly good.
It can be a little chaotic, but... nothing you can't handle.
no subject
[ high praise coming from, you know, an angel who can traverse spacetime at will. or a former angel. you get it. either way, he's enjoying the view for sure, and it's not like there's much else to do up here beyond eating food and staring into space. ]
I can do chaotic. [ a brief pause. ] Though it depends on what you mean by that. They took my guns and my blade.
no subject
They took everything I had on me, too. Except for my wallet. I can't exactly fight anything with a billfold. But if you end up on a ship with a security augment, you'll at least have access to guns.
[laughing b/c we know where you'll end up, my poor lad]
no subject
[ HAHA... ha.... ship what ship, what ship he will get is a total mystery, sam ]
.. well, anyway. [ an absent shrug. ] It's been fun, Sam, but I think I'm gonna hit the sack. We'll talk again soon.
[ totally over intercoms because what's the chances he'll get shuffled onto ur ship right ]
no subject
[And god help you on the day of the shuffle.]
And enjoy the food as much as you can, in the meanwhile.