Castiel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
perfectantidote) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
cape_kore2013-04-13 06:37 pm
perfectantidote) wrote in cape_kore2013-04-13 06:37 pm
001 | 2014!Castiel | [video / action] | Day 60
[Welcome to Cape Kore.
Right. One moment Castiel's head hits the rusty skeleton of a car hard enough to knock you out, bloody-thirsty Croatoans closing in on him with the clear intention to finally end him once and for all, and the next moment he wakes up... here. Could be he's dead and finally has his answer to the question 'where do angels go, actually?', even though he's just barely an angel anymore. Could be this is just dear old Lucifer's next big joke at his expense. What's worse then stuffing the walking husk of his rebellious brother into... whatever this is.
Yeah. Just his luck.
Bleeding from several gashes - none of them lethal, but all of them painful and annoying, as everything about humanity tends to be - Castiel is not inclined to move anytime soon. He's been tossed around by Croats, watched them tear apart everyone else, tense and on edge while waiting to see if he'd feel Dean dying before he was done for, too. No such peace to be had, of course.
So. Instead of blissful darkness, he's here, wherever here is, exactly. Castiel is sitting with his back against an alley wall, legs stretched out. The video clicks on quite by accident thanks to his insistent pressing of buttons - no idea what this thing is supposed to be, but then, technology has always eluded him. When the video flickers on, the Kore residents are treated to a familiar face, although it's much more scruffy, bruised and weary than that of the Castiel the residents should be familiar with. This Castiel has just been in the thick of battle with 'zombies', essentially, and it shows. The good news is that most of the blood on his face and his battered clothes isn't his own.
His smile seems maybe a little misplaced as he pushes himself to his feet - all his thanks go to the wall, it's doing a much better job than him at being stable and solid. The smile helps him bite through the pain and the shaking, though.]
I'm assuming this is... some sort of, uh, communication device, as it were. Hello. Whoever you are, you'll... have to forgive me for a lack of pleasantries.
[The camera wobbles. He needs both hands to check and ready his handgun, the sounds of which should be familiar to most who watch this video - the automatic rifle ran out of bullets long ago and suffered irreparable damage at the hands of a Croat or two. The one thing he wants above all else right now is to toss back a pill and slump back to the ground, let the chemicals wash away everything else. But then, Castiel's just got enough pride left not to roll over for whatever scheme this is. It's not the death Dean sent him to, and therefore he will not lie down and wait for it.]
Clue me in as to... what this is about, if you so please. I'm assuming my dear big brother's allowing himself an oh so uproariously funny jest... So why don't you, uh, let me in on the laughter, hm?
Right. One moment Castiel's head hits the rusty skeleton of a car hard enough to knock you out, bloody-thirsty Croatoans closing in on him with the clear intention to finally end him once and for all, and the next moment he wakes up... here. Could be he's dead and finally has his answer to the question 'where do angels go, actually?', even though he's just barely an angel anymore. Could be this is just dear old Lucifer's next big joke at his expense. What's worse then stuffing the walking husk of his rebellious brother into... whatever this is.
Yeah. Just his luck.
Bleeding from several gashes - none of them lethal, but all of them painful and annoying, as everything about humanity tends to be - Castiel is not inclined to move anytime soon. He's been tossed around by Croats, watched them tear apart everyone else, tense and on edge while waiting to see if he'd feel Dean dying before he was done for, too. No such peace to be had, of course.
So. Instead of blissful darkness, he's here, wherever here is, exactly. Castiel is sitting with his back against an alley wall, legs stretched out. The video clicks on quite by accident thanks to his insistent pressing of buttons - no idea what this thing is supposed to be, but then, technology has always eluded him. When the video flickers on, the Kore residents are treated to a familiar face, although it's much more scruffy, bruised and weary than that of the Castiel the residents should be familiar with. This Castiel has just been in the thick of battle with 'zombies', essentially, and it shows. The good news is that most of the blood on his face and his battered clothes isn't his own.
His smile seems maybe a little misplaced as he pushes himself to his feet - all his thanks go to the wall, it's doing a much better job than him at being stable and solid. The smile helps him bite through the pain and the shaking, though.]
I'm assuming this is... some sort of, uh, communication device, as it were. Hello. Whoever you are, you'll... have to forgive me for a lack of pleasantries.
[The camera wobbles. He needs both hands to check and ready his handgun, the sounds of which should be familiar to most who watch this video - the automatic rifle ran out of bullets long ago and suffered irreparable damage at the hands of a Croat or two. The one thing he wants above all else right now is to toss back a pill and slump back to the ground, let the chemicals wash away everything else. But then, Castiel's just got enough pride left not to roll over for whatever scheme this is. It's not the death Dean sent him to, and therefore he will not lie down and wait for it.]
Clue me in as to... what this is about, if you so please. I'm assuming my dear big brother's allowing himself an oh so uproariously funny jest... So why don't you, uh, let me in on the laughter, hm?
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