Castiel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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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?
no subject
But Dean commands, so Dean is obeys.
Such is the natural order of things.]
Of course.
video --> action
action
Even if that booze comes with a heap of bitter sweetness.]
Look at you. All... alive. [Castiel chuckles, shakes his head, looks more closely.] Not quite the past!Dean I had the pleasure of, uh, weirding out either.
no subject
The good thing about all this is that it's making the Trickster impulses calm down a bit. After all, the person who fucked this Cas up is... Dean. It's Dean who needs to be humbled. Having a drink with Cas is just what the Trickster ordered. ]
Yeah, you can say that again. There's been, uh. Some shenanigans. [ He'd offer to help Cas walk, but he's not sure if that'd be insult to injury, so instead he gestures to the bar. ]
What's your poison? There's still a pretty good selection... [ He trails off. Probably he could concoct whatever Cas wanted him to, and he could heal him too, if he wanted. ]
...the food shortage. [ He's quieter when he finishes because how much has he done about that? Even now when he's thinking about it? ]
no subject
[He grins at Dean, all teeth and gums and hollow eyes. A pleasure to deal with, all broken and hollowed out, struggling to fill the void with anything, everything, and never quite succeeding.
Looking at Dean just makes it worse.
Looking away might kill him.
And wouldn't that be sweet, blissful mercy. So really, he shouldn't be surprised it's not happening. He'd made his peace, so why should he actually be granted just that?]
Food shortage, huh? Well, that sounds familiar. Just keep the good stuff flowing.
no subject
How hurt are you? You're not moving so good. [ Maybe this is how he can break the trickster thing... He glances over at him. ]
Want me to take a look?