Castiel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
freetobe) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
logsinthenight2020-01-12 03:10 am
freetobe) wrote in logsinthenight2020-01-12 03:10 am
[Open] Carry you to peaceful fields
characters: Castiel & You (Open) | Castiel & Bruce (Closed)
location: Beacon & In Your Dreams (no really)
date/time: During the Blizzard (Jan 7 - 11)
content: Dreamwalking! Patrolling Beacon during a Blizzard! An angel helping out and endangering himself through it! Whoo!
warnings: CWs dependant on the content of dreams
➣ Beacon {Kiss the feathers of a hummingbird in flight}
[ Castiel doesn't rely on his flesh and blood to keep him in continued existence. The cold doesn't bother him per se, though the weather proved quite vexing to navigate. He hopes that the more mortal of his allies and charges in his place are sensible and will stay inside.
Yet he himself braves the blizzard, patrolling Beacon. Checking on the Bonire, to know for certain that the fire will not be beaten down by the snow. Checking on the edges of the forest, to make sure nothing takes this opportunity to creep in and wreak havoc. Looking for anyone else foolish enough to have stepped outside in this weather. He carries in his hand a peculiar looking, shiny silver blade. His dark hair and coat are dusted with snow, and whenever visibility allows, he moves not by pushing through the snow that's piling up, but by seemingly teleporting with the sound of rustling feathers. Never far - like Crowley and Aziraphale, his flight is limited by how far his lantern allows him to see, though his wings aren't visible to the naked eye. Not unless he wishes to show them, at least.
If he happens to spot someone outside, they might see him at a lantern-light distance, and then suddenly right next to them, blue eyes on the person, and then back to scanning the surroundings. ]
Are you alright?
➣ Dreams and Nightmares {Breaking up into a million specks of light}
[ooc: This one gives you an opportunity to do some dream sharing. This is completely opt in, if you want this prompt, it happens with the OOC permission to enter/invade your character's dream - or nightmare and be witness to its contents. If you already have close-ish CR with him, he might step into any regular old dream you have to check up on you while the blizzard keeps you cooped up. Close CR or strangers having nightmares will also prompt him to make "the trip" as it were, in an attempt to help you through the nightmare and towards restful sleep. If you want him to show up in your dream/nightmare, feel free to respond with a description of the dream. Please put appropriate CWs on nightmares!
Doing this will start to sap his powers, which by the end of the blizzard's duration will run quite low, and the light of his lantern begins dimming accordingly. The implication of this is not known to most people in beacon.]
➣ [Closed to Bruce, Jan 10] Church {Take the shape of an angel in the night}
[ It's towards the end of the blizzard's duration that Castiel finds himself taking momentary shelter in the church. He's been here a few times, though not as often as one might assume an angel to come here. He doesn't bother to brush the snow from his hair, just quietly walks alongside the pews. The church has recently seen restoration efforts, and he can practically feel the care put into the project. Fascinating, the hard work and dedication people put into it. Though he supposes, here in this place, it might have more practical reasons related to that hatch, and the strange conditions of their supposed death.
He's carrying his blade in one hand, serious features trained though on the stained glass, on the alter, on the pews. He looks contemplative, maybe. Or perhaps lost. There's a certain tension in the set of his shoulders, in the tightness of his jawline, and something oddly stilted to his movements. The light of his lantern is strangely dim, and he looks tired.
Castiel eels it in the bones of his vessel, how he has strained himself to grant more peaceful rest to the souls Beacon harbours. No regrets. He won't kill himself for most of them, though if some of them happen to have nightmares, he might be lured into draining himself - draining his lantern - a little more.
He knows he's not alone. Whether Bruce enters after him, or has been there the entire time. Castiel doesn't turn towards him, but says: ]
Hello.
➣ Wildcard {On the whispering wind}
[ ooc: Maybe you want to seek Castiel out differently, contact him on the network, or have a different idea for a plot. Feel free to hit me up on plurk or discord to discuss <3 ]
location: Beacon & In Your Dreams (no really)
date/time: During the Blizzard (Jan 7 - 11)
content: Dreamwalking! Patrolling Beacon during a Blizzard! An angel helping out and endangering himself through it! Whoo!
warnings: CWs dependant on the content of dreams
➣ Beacon {Kiss the feathers of a hummingbird in flight}
[ Castiel doesn't rely on his flesh and blood to keep him in continued existence. The cold doesn't bother him per se, though the weather proved quite vexing to navigate. He hopes that the more mortal of his allies and charges in his place are sensible and will stay inside.
Yet he himself braves the blizzard, patrolling Beacon. Checking on the Bonire, to know for certain that the fire will not be beaten down by the snow. Checking on the edges of the forest, to make sure nothing takes this opportunity to creep in and wreak havoc. Looking for anyone else foolish enough to have stepped outside in this weather. He carries in his hand a peculiar looking, shiny silver blade. His dark hair and coat are dusted with snow, and whenever visibility allows, he moves not by pushing through the snow that's piling up, but by seemingly teleporting with the sound of rustling feathers. Never far - like Crowley and Aziraphale, his flight is limited by how far his lantern allows him to see, though his wings aren't visible to the naked eye. Not unless he wishes to show them, at least.
If he happens to spot someone outside, they might see him at a lantern-light distance, and then suddenly right next to them, blue eyes on the person, and then back to scanning the surroundings. ]
Are you alright?
➣ Dreams and Nightmares {Breaking up into a million specks of light}
[ooc: This one gives you an opportunity to do some dream sharing. This is completely opt in, if you want this prompt, it happens with the OOC permission to enter/invade your character's dream - or nightmare and be witness to its contents. If you already have close-ish CR with him, he might step into any regular old dream you have to check up on you while the blizzard keeps you cooped up. Close CR or strangers having nightmares will also prompt him to make "the trip" as it were, in an attempt to help you through the nightmare and towards restful sleep. If you want him to show up in your dream/nightmare, feel free to respond with a description of the dream. Please put appropriate CWs on nightmares!
Doing this will start to sap his powers, which by the end of the blizzard's duration will run quite low, and the light of his lantern begins dimming accordingly. The implication of this is not known to most people in beacon.]
➣ [Closed to Bruce, Jan 10] Church {Take the shape of an angel in the night}
[ It's towards the end of the blizzard's duration that Castiel finds himself taking momentary shelter in the church. He's been here a few times, though not as often as one might assume an angel to come here. He doesn't bother to brush the snow from his hair, just quietly walks alongside the pews. The church has recently seen restoration efforts, and he can practically feel the care put into the project. Fascinating, the hard work and dedication people put into it. Though he supposes, here in this place, it might have more practical reasons related to that hatch, and the strange conditions of their supposed death.
He's carrying his blade in one hand, serious features trained though on the stained glass, on the alter, on the pews. He looks contemplative, maybe. Or perhaps lost. There's a certain tension in the set of his shoulders, in the tightness of his jawline, and something oddly stilted to his movements. The light of his lantern is strangely dim, and he looks tired.
Castiel eels it in the bones of his vessel, how he has strained himself to grant more peaceful rest to the souls Beacon harbours. No regrets. He won't kill himself for most of them, though if some of them happen to have nightmares, he might be lured into draining himself - draining his lantern - a little more.
He knows he's not alone. Whether Bruce enters after him, or has been there the entire time. Castiel doesn't turn towards him, but says: ]
Hello.
➣ Wildcard {On the whispering wind}
[ ooc: Maybe you want to seek Castiel out differently, contact him on the network, or have a different idea for a plot. Feel free to hit me up on plurk or discord to discuss <3 ]
no subject
He's taken to wandering the expanse of it, quietly slipping through the hallways. His lantern, currently, barely illuminates his surroundings, the flickering, almost fluid silvery white light in near looking like it may well just wink out in utter exhaustion.
Castiel has given too much. It doesn't feel like he's given enough, wanting to hollow himself out seeking atonement, yet knowing he cannot balance the scales of his sins through what little good he can do here before he breaks something or someone else. He just hopes that someone is going to be him, not anyone else.
The young man he encounters has silvery hair and strangely bright eyes, and Castiel looks back at him from the body that looks like a tax accountant in his mid thirties, with eyes that are a shade of blue that's just subtly a little too intense.
Castiel looks at Riku, still and not blinking quite often enough for comfort. ]
I don't usually go on visits.
no subject
And speaks: ]
...Fair. Do you drink coffee?
[ He turns and resumes his walk towards the kitchen area, opening up one of the cupboards. No answer is waited for - he just gets three mugs down from the cupboard, a pair of tins. His own cast iron lantern sits on the counter top as he puts a kettle of water up to boil on the stove. ]
no subject
[ Castiel watches Riku prepare the coffee, thinking back to Biggerson's. Travelling between near identical locations of the chain all over the US, forcing the angels into a quantum superposition, trapped by the sameness of the chain in trying to locate Castiel, while never allowing their clinical, precise calculations to place him inside the hundreds of spaces he kept filter through through the sheer, messy unpredictability of spontaneity.
And whenever he had his pursuers sufficiently confused and frustrated, he could stop at one of the chain restaurants, order a coffee, talk to a waitress. Compliment the beverage and watch the pleased spark with which the human soul reacts to genuine compliments. ]
I remember when humans discovered coffee. They just chewed the beans, at first. Learned that from the goats... got more clever about the process later, of course.
no subject
He pauses, pouring some beans into the hand grinder, to stare at Castiel. After a moment, the corner of his mouth quirks up, amused. ]
You're weird.
[ That's actually a compliment. ]
That your way of telling me you're old as dirt?
no subject
The attentive observer might notice in turn that while Castiel does blink, it's not quite often enough for comfort.
His own yes are wide and a deep shade of blue, albeit perhaps borderline too blue or a normal person. Castiel can smile and has done so, much his eyes usually say more than his facial features. It's in the way the corners crinkle slightly more so in the quirk of his lips that he mirrors Riku's amusement.
Weird... he is, isn't he?
You came off the line with a crack in your chassis. ]
Of course not. My creation precedes that of matter.
no subject
Anyone else might have laughed off such a claim. Riku goes on working on the coffee, taking it with a grain of salt, but not utterly dismissive of the idea, either. There are many worlds, and many hearts to occupy them. There could be one either young enough for a claim like that, or people old enough to remember its origins.
Riku's not one to judge. ]
Okay, then I have a question for you. What's the deal with fresh and salt water? Someone couldn't make up their mind?