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heavenonearth) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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. ]
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