Castiel; The Fallen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
strangelic) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
oasisnetwork2016-02-24 02:16 pm
strangelic) wrote in oasisnetwork2016-02-24 02:16 pm
Entry tags:
2. voice; and action, morning of the 23rd
I've been scavenging plastic, electric wire and sheet tin from the buildings around the hotel. I believe I have enough, now, to build freshwater stills to collect rainwater, but this should be done below the jungle canopy to prove most effective. If anyone should want to help, I would be grateful for the company.
Furthermore, Daryl, I-- [ Hesitation. ] I'm very grateful for your generosity, but there's really no need to include me in your rationing in the future. Dean says to thank you on his behalf.
[ There's another long, thoughtful sort of pause, almost as though Castiel is considering disconnecting, before he presses on with his address: ]
The hotel rooftop has new residents. Please try to avoid killing them, they're only doing what God made them to do. [ So...mentioning that the new residents are bees might have been useful, right? ]
Action; feel free to join him at any point during the process, or post your own unrelated starters:
1. [ In the morning, before the sun has risen too high, and the thick jungle humidity has had a chance to dig its teeth in, Castiel makes his post and begins to gather up his supplies, moving them between the hotel and the gate. He doesn't experiment with his flight, which is still somewhat iffy, so instead the back and forth is a trial, a kind of drudgery that feels pure, a kind of repentance in its own way.
His pieces of scavenged material aren't all perfect; some of the pieces of tin are split, or made of a single pair of rungs, shattered from falling into the buildings that he'd taken them from. Some of the pieces of plastic are frayed in places. But the rain is daily, and reliable, and there's enough surface that most of the water should find itself in the still.
Once he's done moving the gear out toward the gate, he heads out into the forest to be certain that the area he chooses isn't littered with bodies before he begins. He picks out the tiniest clearing, with just a spotlight of sun coming in from above at the height of the afternoon. The tall, well grown trees, and the widowmaker leaning across the center of the clearing, provide plenty of flexibility toward engineering the stills, places to tie on the corners with the strong, load bearing electrical wire.
Work is always speedier with help. ]
2. [ That evening, Castiel is grateful to get back to the city. It's tiring - for everyone but Castiel himself, obviously - and despite care to keep quiet, not draw the attention of the walkers, it hasn't been an uneventful day. But there will be fresh water, now, clean rather than tasting of boiled lake, for anyone who needs it. It's a good thing to accomplish, makes him feel useful somehow, as though he has room to make up for...well, for being what he is.
He lingers at the gates for a short while, keeping a watch on the treeline, before returning to the rooftop of the hotel to check on his bees, and to watch the sun set. He can be spoken to, or sat with, at any time after his return. ]
Furthermore, Daryl, I-- [ Hesitation. ] I'm very grateful for your generosity, but there's really no need to include me in your rationing in the future. Dean says to thank you on his behalf.
[ There's another long, thoughtful sort of pause, almost as though Castiel is considering disconnecting, before he presses on with his address: ]
The hotel rooftop has new residents. Please try to avoid killing them, they're only doing what God made them to do. [ So...mentioning that the new residents are bees might have been useful, right? ]
Action; feel free to join him at any point during the process, or post your own unrelated starters:
1. [ In the morning, before the sun has risen too high, and the thick jungle humidity has had a chance to dig its teeth in, Castiel makes his post and begins to gather up his supplies, moving them between the hotel and the gate. He doesn't experiment with his flight, which is still somewhat iffy, so instead the back and forth is a trial, a kind of drudgery that feels pure, a kind of repentance in its own way.
His pieces of scavenged material aren't all perfect; some of the pieces of tin are split, or made of a single pair of rungs, shattered from falling into the buildings that he'd taken them from. Some of the pieces of plastic are frayed in places. But the rain is daily, and reliable, and there's enough surface that most of the water should find itself in the still.
Once he's done moving the gear out toward the gate, he heads out into the forest to be certain that the area he chooses isn't littered with bodies before he begins. He picks out the tiniest clearing, with just a spotlight of sun coming in from above at the height of the afternoon. The tall, well grown trees, and the widowmaker leaning across the center of the clearing, provide plenty of flexibility toward engineering the stills, places to tie on the corners with the strong, load bearing electrical wire.
Work is always speedier with help. ]
2. [ That evening, Castiel is grateful to get back to the city. It's tiring - for everyone but Castiel himself, obviously - and despite care to keep quiet, not draw the attention of the walkers, it hasn't been an uneventful day. But there will be fresh water, now, clean rather than tasting of boiled lake, for anyone who needs it. It's a good thing to accomplish, makes him feel useful somehow, as though he has room to make up for...well, for being what he is.
He lingers at the gates for a short while, keeping a watch on the treeline, before returning to the rooftop of the hotel to check on his bees, and to watch the sun set. He can be spoken to, or sat with, at any time after his return. ]
no subject
But there's no sign of the rolls of wire, which are stacked up elsewhere in the hotel. Instead their home is on the roof, or what's left of it, overgrown with grass and weeds, and sporting broken holes into the rooms below. There's a lean-to over a mattress against one wall, made out of a door found elsewhere in the hotel and some duct tape, and set up a stack of crates in the corner of the roof is a large waxy blob--a bee hive, which is buzzing gently with activity.
Castiel blinks at his sudden company, turning to greet Maya and then hesitating. The siren? Then why did she read so...human? ]
Who are you looking for?
no subject
But gee, this guy sounds familiar, and Maya narrows her eyes at him for a second. ]
Daryl asked me to deliver some rations to Dean and Jimmy.
no subject
You're Maya. You introduced yourself on the radio.
[ If he were even remotely ashamed of himself this would be the moment to show it, right? Instead he steps back, as though to invite her in. ]
no subject
Castiel, then.
[ When he moves aside, she makes no move to come in just yet. ] You don’t seem to take much umbrage with my showing up at your door.
no subject
I'm learning to adjust to the...company. [ Which does at least require an explanation, he thinks: ] Nobody here seems to want to kill me, I suppose I'm taking it for granted that that's the case. [ So far. ]
You said you have a delivery; what is it?
no subject
[ That’s more what she meant about him objecting to her showing up at his metaphorical door. ]
It’s smoked deer meat from Daryl. He said he wants you to know that you “have a right to the shares”, just like everyone else.
no subject
[ He glances off in the direction of the lake for a moment, at the mention of Daryl, then looks back toward her, considering. ] That's very kind of him. I was under the impression that he didn't consider us to be friends. I shook his faith... Or perhaps I shook his lack of it, [ He puzzles, squinting. ] Can you shake someone's lack of faith?
no subject
You lost me. What do you mean that's "not what I feel like"?
no subject
I can sense supernatural creatures, or rather it's more accurate to say that I can tell when something is not whole. It's only one of the many things my kind can do.
no subject
Your kind being... what, exactly?
no subject
[ Then she's definitely not any kind of supernatural creature, end of, draw a line under it. ]
I'm an angel. [ He just assumes she knows what that means. ]
no subject
Sure you are. And I'm the queen of Athenas.
no subject
In that case perhaps you should have introduced yourself as such, your Majesty.