first one to make that doctor who joke loses

[birdsbirdsbirds]

Who: Everyone! All of you!
Broadcast: Maybe!
Action: Definitely!
When: Anytime during the toxic moon event!

---

[boy oh boy, isn't everyone just so excited to explore this... charming... place...?

this is a game-wide mingle and the timeframe isn't super-important, so throw in with whatever you want! play war games, go shopping for gas masks, get lost in the wilderness, hide up in the Iskaulit and refuse to set foot on the moon, anything goes.

here's the main event info post for reference! have fun!]

Comments

[heavenonearth]

[ while it doesn't have quite the intended effect, it distracts him long enough for fdr to be able to twist away at least, and cas climbs back up too, taking a moment to get himself all together again while fdr recovers himself.

wiping mud from his chin, he grins. ]

I did. I just, you know, said it with my fists.

[ and a quick eyeroll. ]

But fiiine, have it your way.

[ your clothes are already muddied beyond repair bruh, but okay okay, no tackling, cas surges back in with a flurry of punches and kicks instead, lighting quick and well-honed. ]

[bigvessel]

[Well, at least he got away but his eyes do narrow slightly at the man in front of him. That's not often the reaction he gets when he smacks someone dead on in a pressure point. And his first thought is the guy must be drunk or high. But then he's reminding himself that not everybody he comes across is normal or human. Either way, it pretty much means any advantage he had has just been lost.

Damn.]

Yeah you did. [And he chuckles.] I got the message pretty quick. [Amazing what can be said with a fist to the gut.

And don't you judge him. He knows his clothes are ruined and the back of his hair is a total disaster. But no need to make it worse, okay!

But he's actually kind of regretting the decision because holy shit this guy is fast. He's good in a way he didn't exactly appreciate when they were on their backs and playing king of the mountain. Now there's actual skill. And those kicks are muddy to boot! A lot of time is spent just trying to dodge, to block, it's got him on the defensive in the most obnoxious of ways. But even then it's hard to keep up, to block everything. So. To hell with it all. He throws himself into it, downright determined to get a few of his own hits in, regardless of the consequence. And it feels good with a fist or a foot connects, because there's something to be proud of when fighting someone good, and he hasn't had a good fight since the last time him and Tuck got pissed at each other. And even then, they had the same training, they were on the same level. This is...well it's exciting. As much as it is painful. And he's sure he'll ache like a son of a bitch once the adrenaline fades and he's left to assess the damage. But for now it's fun as hell.

At least until the referees decide they're getting a little too violent and before he's ready to throw in the flag, they're yanking them apart again. Muttering about needing time to cool their heads.

And then they wind up in a goddamn holding cell. In the same one. And how does that make any sense? Now there's bars they can beat eachother senseless against. But to be honest, the adrenaline is fading and he'd rather just sit his ass down for a bit after he's done bitching through the bars about the lack of a shower. Jerks!

So he's a little huffy when he flops down onto a spot on the floor and starts trying to wipe the mud off his arms and face.] Where the hell did you learn to fight?

[heavenonearth]

[ cas isn't too terribly surprised when they're yanked apart; honestly, it's pretty amazing that they've gotten as far as they have, considering the both of them are pretty banged up by the time they're peeled away from one another.

but cas is feeling good. adrenaline is high, endorphins singing, all that sweet pain radiating in his bones and over scraped and bruised and muddied skin, split lip and bleeding knuckles. it's nice. it's fun. fdr is a good match.

he's satisfied by what they got, though, and by the time they're tossed into a cell cas is content to drop down onto the floor with a long, gratified sigh, leaning his bare, muddy back against the bars. stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankle, he holds a hand out to survey the damage to his knuckles, before he's grinning and lifting his eyes to fdr's face. ]

Heaven. You?

[bigvessel]

[He frowns at the speckling of bruises he finds under muddied skin, even on spots where he had just been blocking the bastard. But he can't really complain, since he doesn't have too many injuries on his face. Just one spot above his eyebrow that's been busted open by a fist, bleeding profusely, as head wounds are want to do, but that hardly means it's in bad shape.

He glances back up at that answer though and pauses in his surveying and cleaning. His brows scrunch together and he makes a bit of a face.]

Either I get hit one too many times or you did, but...did you just say heaven?

[Which. Well. Maybe that is what he heard. He has met a dude claiming to be the demon that slithered his way into paradise and made a couple of humans sin. So, of course there'd be...angels? too right? Or maybe the asshole is really just that drunk.

It also works as a great freaking diversion from explaining his own training. Sometimes....he kind of forgets that he's got a cover story he's trying to keep up.]

[heavenonearth]

[ man that's always the way, isn't it? people are never surprised by demons, but angels are harder to wrap their heads around. it's funny. but it makes sense for a bunch of philosophical reasons we don't really care about right now.

all cas cares about is the fact that the tension in him has quieted, that he's vented his frustrations on a willing and able target, and they're both satisfied for it. or, well, at least fdr seems satisfied. cas chuckles, stretching out his back against the bars behind him until it pops, and he sighs. ]

Sure did.

[ he'd worries about it before, about telling people who and what he is, but there's.. really no reason to hide it, not anymore. he doesn't gain anything by keeping his cover, and people don't even believe him half the time anyway, so it doesn't really matter. ]

[bigvessel]

[Right. Thanks for clearing that up, there. Good thing he's the kind of guy who's use to filling in the pieces of the puzzle himself.]

...Oh. Alright then. So-so I just... [And he makes a vague hand gesture.] I just got in a fight with an angel. That'll look great on my permanent record.

[A sigh. Because this is his fucking life now where he's not immediately questioning someone's sanity when they claim to be anything less than human, and he flicks a piece of mud off his arm and hits Cas with it.]

Which one are you? I only really know Gabriel. And Donner. Blitzen...

[heavenonearth]

Can't say I remember Blitzen..

[ cas says, with a thoughtful squint and an easy grin shot his cellmate's way. leaning his head back against the bars, cas laces his hands comfortably across his belly. ]

Name's Castiel.

[bigvessel]

Ah well, probably for the best. I've heard he's kind of an asshole.

[That's the kind of grin that's almost too easy to return, a knee-jerk reaction almost, and he sighs as he brings his hand up to hair, winces at the clumps of mud he feels there.]

FDR. So, be an angel and help get all this mud out of my hair, will you?