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
[ The truth is, of course, that Castiel's own kind isn't meant to feel at all, much less as deeply and painfully as has experienced feelings.
Castiel turns his head, giving Vanitas the sharp cut of his profile. ]
You co-exist with them. The boys; one silver-haired, one dark. Are you drawn by their dark or their light? Or something else?
no subject
They're unique. They aren't like you or me.
[ The truth is he's drawn to both reflections. Riku and his marbled dusk, like moment just before daybreak. Bruce, like a single candle burning in a yawning, unending black void. But those aren't the reasons that Vanitas spends so much time at the museum, instead of in the room he's claimed as his own at the Invincible.
He raises one hand, gesturing ambiguously. ]
You could say... they don't bore me.
no subject
[ Vanitas is a strange creature. Castiel dislikes, primarily, that he finds himself unable to just beat his wings and leave this place, put distance between himself and this shadow of his at his own leisure.
Then again, retreat is rarely an option for him on any sort of battlefield. ]
And do you seek to hurt them, too?
no subject
Vanitas pauses at that, maybe because it's the first time he's been asked to reflect on it. It's true, he goes out of his way to hurt the people around him. He wants them to suffer, not just because it gives him satisfaction to see them hurt like he does, but because the Darkness it creates makes him stronger.
But somewhere along the line, at least with Bruce and Riku... that changed. ]
They do that all on their own.
[ The nonanswer is flippant. ]
Why did you agree to come here? Bruce must have invited you.
no subject
He did. A sharp mind, that one.
[ Castiel can be a spectacularly bad liar. What he does well, though, what he has learned through going behind his own friends' backs, is how to pivot. ]
Were you invited and never left? Or is the nature of this arrangement a different one?
no subject
I come and go when I want.
no subject
[ Castiel, by nature of his existence, isn't limited to space or even time. Here, of course, he's... somewhat more beholden to such confines, but still sees no issue with entering or leaving people's spaces at his own leisure, his grasp on manners willful at the best of times.
He turns away from the artwork finally. Crosses his arms loosely, and awards Vanitas with his full attention and the weight of his blue gaze. ]
Does it hurt? Being you.
no subject
[ Vanitas cocks his head, his eyebrow raised and a look of surprised incredulity on his face. The question catches him off guard, maybe because of the way it's worded— and then right away he starts to laugh. There's nothing joyful in the sound, despite the way Vanitas puts his head back briefly, how he doesn't stifle it or try to smother the sound. It echoes back at them from the high ceiling.
When he looks back at the angel, the arch expression is still on his face, and he's smiling— but it looks more like a grimace. A baring of teeth. ]
What do you think, Castiel?
What is Darkness to you?
no subject
He thinks to an Apocalypse that never was, and then another, to humans rallying like bright sparks against the night sky, to giving all of himself over and over again, hollowed out and ruined, thinks to regrettable actions and the vile acts of war, thinks to mutating himself and breaking himself, leaving himself and everything he ever learned to hold dear in ruin and ash.
He thinks of how it hurts, just being.
What is Darkness to him, who is Light? ]
A different shade of the same colour.
no subject
And the worst part is that Vanitas had always just wanted a piece of that for himself. His existence was suffering. He didn't understand why he had to suffer like this, when Ventus had everything, weak as he was. Friendship, and kindness; he didn't have piece of himself ripping off day after day, exposing his reality like a raw nerve.
Vanitas had to learn how to subsist through that anguish. He had to learn that pain was power, that Darkness was stronger for all it had to endure. But even for all of that, right up to the end, he'd only wanted his suffering to end.
It's impossible, now. In the Keyblade Graveyard, the reality of what he was had been made clear. And what you are is Darkness? Ventus had demanded, angry for reasons Vanitas could only assume were connected with the loathing the Light has for it. All I am is Darkness, he agreed; because what was the point of all of it, otherwise? Siding with Darkness, acknowledging what he was— there could be no other choice. It would break him.
The amusement filters out of his expression, bleeding out until it reverses into something more honest. Something that looks like anger. ]
Is that so?