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. ]
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Maybe. Maybe even so. Dean had taken a long time to accept what he was as well, even after everything that he'd seen. Accepting demons and vampires and ghosts was easy compared to what an angel represented. What it meant.
They weren't his secrets to tell, but he spoke about it anyway. ]
Dean didn't believe it, when I first met him. I raised him from Hell.
[ He reached out to touch Daryl's shoulder. ] Stop. [ Something was crossing their path ahead of them--perhaps an animal, perhaps something that needed to be stopped. ]
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Which was when a raccoon skittered across the path in front of them. Just a raccoon...
Not just a raccoon.
The walker stumbled after it, hands reached out to chase its fleeing prey. It didn't notice them as it stumbled ahead, and off the other side of the path. ]
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They could find that out, also by waiting. Keeping still. Daryl had no love for walkers, hated them on principle alone, as well as for what they'd done to those he cared about. But he'd also learned that it was sometimes better to just let them go and not engage. Saved energy and didn't draw unwanted attention.
If the walker was so intent on the raccoon it didn't notice them, then it was better to just let it go on. They had a rain catcher to get to, anyway.]
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He stayed still until the sound had passed, then laid his hand gently on Daryl's to let him know that it was alright, silence returning to the forest enough that the birdsong had started up again, before he stepped slowly forward. The rain catcher - or rather the materials for it - were just at the fork ahead, and Castiel showed Daryl into the clearing.
He'd already built up a wooden trellis partially around the outside, winding bamboo branches around the trees to block other routes into the clearing, but also to block the dead from seeing the living within.
It would get there eventually, but there was a lot of work left to do--and a lot surprisingly done, considering there was just one man at work here. ]
Before coming here, I could count the number of people who knew what I am on two hands. But you said it yourself; survival here is dependent on knowing what we can do, and what we have to offer each other.
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And what is you can do?
[Daryl moved to the strange wall Castiel had been building around the clearing and tested the strength of it with a relatively gentle shake. Since it was far from complete, he could step around the side to check out how well camouflaged it was, too.]
Beside the creepy ass wing thing.
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My wings let me fly. I can come and go at will. I can smite demons, use magic, move things without touching them--the power of Heaven moves through me.
[ Castiel bent down, beginning to uncoil the wire. ]
Thank you for teaching me to use this. I would never have imagined it being such an excellent replacement for rope.
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Daryl ducked back out from the wall to look at what Castiel was doing. He frowned at it.]
Yeah it works well enough. Just make sure you cover the ends. Don't want lightning coming through and using it to light up a tree.
[He turned back to the wall and started a perimeter sweep, checking the wall every so often with a shake. Eyes glancing up to the top of it and back down.]
You do miracles, too? That's what angels are supposed to do.
[Not that he'd ever been lucky or worthy enough or whatever to see one happen. He didn't really believe in miracles anymore. Dumb luck sometimes. But not miracles.]
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I've performed miracles. And I've done terrible things, hurt thousands of people, in the name of God. I can heal people with a touch, survive being shot. I don't walk on water, if you're asking. I sink.
[ He's just saying, in case that ever actually comes up.
But what is he not saying? He's certainly not rushing to mention that in some circumstances he can read Daryl's mind. ]
I can put you to sleep, and I can enter your dreams. I can see when people aren't what they seem, and I can speak to the souls of the dead.
It's a lot, I know.
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Though if Cas was really trying to convince Daryl he was an angel...
Daryl snorted turned around to watch him.]
Do it then. Perform a miracle.
[It was a challenge as much as anything. To prove he was an angel and not just some weird guy with weird powers. Though really, Daryl wasn't ready to believe him, so any real demonstration of power would probably just get ignored or deflected as something else.]
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[ He stared across at Daryl like he'd just grown a second head, which considering what he was asking wasn't entirely out of the question. His eyes crinkled, thoughtful. ]
It really doesn't work like that, and I can't imagine that you would believe anything that I did. What would satisfy you? If I turned water into wine? Perhaps I should set something on fire.
There are scars on your back. You hide them with wings of your own. What we appear to be isn't always what we are.
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The comment on his scars, though, that crossed a line into territory Daryl wasn't comfortable with.
His shoulders hunched in reflex and his head ducked in. Back got angled as away from Castiel as he could make it. As if he could hide the truth of their presence just by keeping the other man from seeing any measure of his back.
There were plenty of people that knew about them. Had seen them before he could stop them. But Castiel wasn't one of them. He hadn't been bathing anywhere the other man should have been able to see. And even then, he'd been keeping a shirt on while he got cleaned up. Just in case one of his people ran in because of an emergency. Hell, wasn't even sure Glenn knew about them. Rick, yeah, Rick probably did. Dragging his ass into the farmhouse like he had after Andrea shot him - and good lord that was a long time ago...]
How- Ain't no way you- You need to shut up about things you ain't know about.
[He gulped hard, growling the words out even as he stumbled over them.]
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Neither of us is what our mistakes have made us. We wear our wings and try to be better people than we think we are. We give ourselves to other people, and strive to change the things about us that we fear we might be - that we can be - at our worst, because that is how our fathers made us.
[ He shook his head quietly, and then turned his eyes away, looking toward the sky far above them. ]
But we have free will. We have choice. We can be anyone and anything we choose to be, and if you don't want me to be an angel, then I don't have to be.
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[Daryl curled his lip, tried to make himself look bigger than he felt. But he stepped back when Castiel got closer to him. As far as he could before that wall blocked his means of escape.
He'd made a challenge he didn't think could be answered and it had been. Castiel had recognized it for what it was and had chosen a point of contention Daryl hadn't expected or even entertained as a possibility.
He didn't like feeling the way he did. Vulnerable. Weak. On uneven footing. And there wasn't much he could do about it. Short of maybe punching the guy. Which wouldn't solve anything or make him feel better, either. Something he knew from experience. There were definitely situations where punching the lights out of someone helped. But this wasn't one of them.]
Shut up and finish your stupid rain catcher. You're wasting time.
[Daryl pushed off the wall and skirted it's edge, keeping as much space as he could between himself and Castiel before he slipped out to walk the perimeter. This time from the other side.]
Yell when you're done, asshole.