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indecadence) wrote2013-05-24 08:48 pm
indecadence) wrote2013-05-24 08:48 pm
[ic contact]
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| E-MAILS | TEXTS |
CONTACT: cas@compass.net
MESSAGE: For the most part, yes.
MESSAGE: For the most part, yes.
CONTACT: dean.winchester@compass.net
MESSAGE: Still alive?
[ his hands are shaking so badly as he types out the simple message, but you don't need to know that. ]
MESSAGE: Still alive?
[ his hands are shaking so badly as he types out the simple message, but you don't need to know that. ]
CONTACT: cas@compass.net
MESSAGE: Enough. And so are you, it seems.
[ He hadn't expected this, though it hardly takes him any time at all to reply. Something's wrong. ]
MESSAGE: Enough. And so are you, it seems.
[ He hadn't expected this, though it hardly takes him any time at all to reply. Something's wrong. ]
gently flips coding out the window aint nobody got time for that
hardhearted
- 2013-10-13 06:28 (UTC) - Expandfixed the jacket.
is it still mine
is it still mine
Edited 2013-10-17 02:51 (UTC)
[ The reply comes back very, very, very late into the day. Early morning hours. ]
Do you still need it?
Do you still need it?
[ It's been a while in the making, but there Dean is and there's Cas and, quite frankly, there was a whole heck of a lot of awkward suddenly filling up the room because what do you do when you drop in unannounced, uninvited and with the duffel bag in hand, huh?
It's almost like they're domesticated, except Dean's begging the favor rather than the other way around. Even if it was for Cas' own good.
... There was something inherently wrong in this. ]
So, uh... nice place you've got.
[ wherever Cas' hide-away was. The tunnels, wasn't it? ]
It's almost like they're domesticated, except Dean's begging the favor rather than the other way around. Even if it was for Cas' own good.
... There was something inherently wrong in this. ]
So, uh... nice place you've got.
[ wherever Cas' hide-away was. The tunnels, wasn't it? ]
[ He's made it a habit not to stay down there for long periods of time. Especially now, given the circumstances, so it's a bit of luck that Dean actually catches him there, and he pauses, tilting his head to look him over.
The same as always--with the addition of that bag. ]
Do you need something? [ Even if it's always nice to see Dean, their relationship still isn't the best it could be. He rests his hands on his hips and waits expectantly. ]
The same as always--with the addition of that bag. ]
Do you need something? [ Even if it's always nice to see Dean, their relationship still isn't the best it could be. He rests his hands on his hips and waits expectantly. ]
[ action ] AT LEAST HE DIDN'T GO ALL BEVIS AND BUTTHEAD ON YOU
eyeofthetiger
- 2013-10-27 04:58 (UTC) - Expand[ action ] hey, that was some quality tv right there. (nottalking)
eyeofthetiger
- 2013-10-27 05:21 (UTC) - Expand[ action ] i don't even know what's happening anymore!!
indecadence
- 2013-11-03 05:47 (UTC) - Expand[ action ] good. that justmeans you're in character!
eyeofthetiger
- 2013-11-03 05:52 (UTC) - ExpandCONTACT: dean.winchester@compass.net
MESSAGE: we need to talk
MESSAGE: we need to talk
[ Well, this is... unexpected. ]
What is there to say?
What is there to say?
CONTACT: castiel@compass.net
MESSAGE: I believe I have a problem you could help me with.
MESSAGE: I believe I have a problem you could help me with.
[ Well, this is certainly a first. ]
Why would I want to help you?
Why would I want to help you?
[He should leave well enough alone.
He shouldn't lean on Castiel. Shouldn't be taking this shit to his doorstep.
But fuck.]
it got me
[The power stealing virus bullshit. He is so mad, still. Even after finding some solace in others earlier in the week. Mad and helpless. So. Time to bug That Guy. Because Castiel's leaned on him. Equal trade.]
He shouldn't lean on Castiel. Shouldn't be taking this shit to his doorstep.
But fuck.]
it got me
[The power stealing virus bullshit. He is so mad, still. Even after finding some solace in others earlier in the week. Mad and helpless. So. Time to bug That Guy. Because Castiel's leaned on him. Equal trade.]
[ Why everyone is coming to him, he honestly doesn't know. But the reply, at least, is almost immediate. ]
Are you okay?
Are you okay?
[ Dean's just gonna straight to the chase because he's getting tired of voice mail Russian roulette. ]
Look, if you don't pick up this phone in the next fifteen seconds, I'm gonna run down to your lair and throw petrified dog poop all over your bed. And don't you dare think that I won't!
Look, if you don't pick up this phone in the next fifteen seconds, I'm gonna run down to your lair and throw petrified dog poop all over your bed. And don't you dare think that I won't!
[ after only about fifteen minutes, Dean's calling again. ]
Look, shit, I'm sorry. Just pick up the damn phone, will you? I'm getting sick of this.
[ sorry, Cas. You're just the one Dean's picking on today. ]
Look, shit, I'm sorry. Just pick up the damn phone, will you? I'm getting sick of this.
[ sorry, Cas. You're just the one Dean's picking on today. ]
CONTACT: lone.wanderer@compass.net
MESSAGE: Hey, are you busy?
MESSAGE: Hey, are you busy?
[About an hour later...]
MESSAGE: Cas? Are you there?
MESSAGE: Cas? Are you there?
CONTACT: dean.winchester@compass.net
MESSAGE: where the hell have you been?
and why is fatima involved with any of this?
MESSAGE: where the hell have you been?
and why is fatima involved with any of this?
[ Oh good. This is exactly what he needs right now. ]
Here and there. We ran into each other.
Here and there. We ran into each other.
CONTACT: dean.win chester@compass.net
MESSAGE: you've been here a while, right?
MESSAGE: you've been here a while, right?
[ Longer than everyone he's met from home, but what are important details. And so much for answering the question of whether or not both Deans had left. SIGH. ]
I suppose I have. Why?
I suppose I have. Why?
CONTACT: isaac.lahey@compass.net
MESSAGE: speakeasys open again
MESSAGE: speakeasys open again
[ Well, this is... something. ]
Are you inviting me?
Are you inviting me?
CONTACT: lone.wanderer@compass.net
MESSAGE: Hey, are you busy?
MESSAGE: Hey, are you busy?
Things haven't been going well at all for the young girl. The carnival had been all but ruined for her due to what happened the night she decided to go into the funhouse and ran into Lucifer. The terrible bruising was a dark purple around her throat in the shape of finger-marks and the frostbite was a waxy white that made her cry when she looked at it, so right now, it's all being somewhat badly hidden beneath a yellow scarf.
She also isn't sleeping. The thing she had seen in the mirror, the creature too big to be seen all at once but had stared her down... it haunted her nightmares until she just decides sleeping sounds like the worst idea.
So she's out, later at night than she should be, heading for the classroom she shares with the Heroes. Maybe if someone's nearby, she can sleep better, hence why she has her pillow and blanket with her.
But as she steps outside, a smell hits her she's not familiar with, making her nose wrinkle, and she looks over and sees- "Cas?" A little surprised to see him.
She also isn't sleeping. The thing she had seen in the mirror, the creature too big to be seen all at once but had stared her down... it haunted her nightmares until she just decides sleeping sounds like the worst idea.
So she's out, later at night than she should be, heading for the classroom she shares with the Heroes. Maybe if someone's nearby, she can sleep better, hence why she has her pillow and blanket with her.
But as she steps outside, a smell hits her she's not familiar with, making her nose wrinkle, and she looks over and sees- "Cas?" A little surprised to see him.
He doesn't do this often where others can stumble upon him, preferring privacy. Even then, some things haven't changed, but he needs the solidarity of the open air to calm whatever truths he's sitting on. It isn't particularly nice, smoking the joint all the way down until there's nothing left to save, and it's what he's doing when he hears someone say his name. A blink, smashing the end of it against the step he's sitting on, and Castiel inclines his head.
Oh. It's her. The girl from the carnival.
"It's late." As if that's not obvious. "Shouldn't you be inside?"
Oh. It's her. The girl from the carnival.
"It's late." As if that's not obvious. "Shouldn't you be inside?"
[ Castiel had made certain that his future self's unconscious body was safely returned to his room, changed into clean clothes and put to bed. While he was at it, he scrubbed his body clean -- all of it, including as much of any build up of toxins as he thought safe to remove -- with just a touch of his hand.
Cas shouldn't suffer from the unique symptoms of alcohol withdrawal or anything else he may have recently imbibed, which means no hangover.
Still, he watched over him, pondering over what little he understood of their interaction, of this or any of the previous ones actually... and in the morning he had filched a two hardboiled eggs, three sausage links and coffee, all of which were cold by the time he set them on the table beside the sleeping former angel's bed. Then he just stood there.
Watching.
You'd think that after getting yelled at for this by any number of people, he would stop. But when you've spent hundreds of years watching over humanity, some habits were really hard to kick. ]
Cas shouldn't suffer from the unique symptoms of alcohol withdrawal or anything else he may have recently imbibed, which means no hangover.
Still, he watched over him, pondering over what little he understood of their interaction, of this or any of the previous ones actually... and in the morning he had filched a two hardboiled eggs, three sausage links and coffee, all of which were cold by the time he set them on the table beside the sleeping former angel's bed. Then he just stood there.
Watching.
You'd think that after getting yelled at for this by any number of people, he would stop. But when you've spent hundreds of years watching over humanity, some habits were really hard to kick. ]
[ He doesn't think he dreams. If he does, it's of familiar hands and a strangely gentle touch--something he knows he doesn't deserve but can't seem to fight anyhow. It's odd, and as much as he dislikes sleeping sometimes, there's nothing keeping him from doing it. And when consciousness slowly slips in, Castiel blinks at the ceiling of his room with little more than blank confusion. He feels... okay. Free, light.
Touched by a damn angel, who's still standing there and looking at him. For how long, he doesn't know, but he can venture a guess. After all, who would know better than yourself?
Castiel is quiet for as long as it takes him to roll over, eyes narrowing at the angel and not bothering to appreciate or really notice that he'd been brought something to eat. He's annoyed and visibly so, though he does take a moment to stretch out as he observes him. The memories of the previous night have yet to surface. ]
What did you do to me?
Touched by a damn angel, who's still standing there and looking at him. For how long, he doesn't know, but he can venture a guess. After all, who would know better than yourself?
Castiel is quiet for as long as it takes him to roll over, eyes narrowing at the angel and not bothering to appreciate or really notice that he'd been brought something to eat. He's annoyed and visibly so, though he does take a moment to stretch out as he observes him. The memories of the previous night have yet to surface. ]
What did you do to me?
[ Oh, um. He hasn't expected this for numerous reasons, and it takes a long time to actually reply. ]
Well enough. [ A second later, he sends: ] Is everything all right?
Well enough. [ A second later, he sends: ] Is everything all right?
[ dean's standing outside of cas' door, glaring at the number printed on the old surface. maybe he has a bottle in one hand, maybe he's slightly drunk. it takes quiet a bit for him to get truly intoxicated these days, but trust him, he's gotten an a in effort this time around since even he can feel the burn of alcohol in his veins.
but that's not why he's here. or is it? he's not sure.
all he knows is that he feels like he's effectively lost sam again, or is losing him, and he...
he doesn't know where to go, except here.
so he slams his fist on the door, knocks until the entire thing rattles and resists the urge to lean against something while he waits after. fucking alcohol. ]
but that's not why he's here. or is it? he's not sure.
all he knows is that he feels like he's effectively lost sam again, or is losing him, and he...
he doesn't know where to go, except here.
so he slams his fist on the door, knocks until the entire thing rattles and resists the urge to lean against something while he waits after. fucking alcohol. ]
[ It's strange how some things work, and how, even after they've come to some sort of agreement, days have gone by without seeing each other. Perhaps Castiel has gotten used to this odd quiet that's settled over them and between them; it had been weeks when Dean had been gone. Yet, unlike then, he's not lost or floundering or lashing out at anyone who might pretend to care. He just exists, and that's only a small favor in the scheme of things.
And this is certainly something he hadn't expected either, Dean drunk at his door. There had been a few occasions like this before something had broken the strings of their friendship, before they'd found Chitaqua, but he hadn't expected it here. His expectations are considerably lower these days. Castiel, too, isn't even in his room. He's actually dragging himself back to sleep, still wired from the last few days.
So, he's approaching him from the side. Somewhat concerned, somewhat skeptical. ]
What are you doing?
And this is certainly something he hadn't expected either, Dean drunk at his door. There had been a few occasions like this before something had broken the strings of their friendship, before they'd found Chitaqua, but he hadn't expected it here. His expectations are considerably lower these days. Castiel, too, isn't even in his room. He's actually dragging himself back to sleep, still wired from the last few days.
So, he's approaching him from the side. Somewhat concerned, somewhat skeptical. ]
What are you doing?
[ after picking up sam, after confronting the cultists building the barricade around the place, after having said cultists flip their shit and things getting violent and bloody-- that's when dean returns home. after the entire mess is over and done with, after things had gone just as badly as he'd thought they would, he comes home. where sam slinks off to is beyond dean, but he's stepping into the dark room late, not calling out, not make much noise other than by moving through the place, and dropping off items left and right.
his gun goes to the rest on a table, placed down with something of a pained sound... his jacket is torn at one arm, painted red with his own blood. the wound isn't the worst he's ever suffered, but it makes using his arm a chore. that, and it needs to be cleaned out before an infection can settle in.
so it's what he settles to do, quiet, pained breathing the only audible sound in the room. ]
his gun goes to the rest on a table, placed down with something of a pained sound... his jacket is torn at one arm, painted red with his own blood. the wound isn't the worst he's ever suffered, but it makes using his arm a chore. that, and it needs to be cleaned out before an infection can settle in.
so it's what he settles to do, quiet, pained breathing the only audible sound in the room. ]
[ He's not asleep. Or hadn't been.
After suffering his own scrapes and bruises from picking through places just off the campus line, he'd detoured back and spent the rest of his time taking care of them. Superficial things, really, but he'd stripped down to a t-shirt that probably wasn't his and his ragged pair of jeans just to make sure. Both Dean and Sam's absence weren't a problem; he could contact them if he needed it, get in touch with some of the people who would help him if he couldn't. So, the quiet fills the part of the building they've claimed aside from the occasional outside interference, and he lights some of the candles they've managed to scavenge when it grows dark.
Except it's far more dark than he remembers it when he opens his eyes again, body stiff from having folded his legs up in some meditative pose. The light's burned out, and he frowns at his carelessness when the sounds catch his attention. If he hadn't known, by the steps or the breath or the click of the gun being dropped on the table, he would have tensed up and reached for the knife stashed under the mattress. But he unwinds himself and rolls out, purposely loud as he heads straight for the place he'd set the candles to light them. ]
Where were you? [ It's not accusatory, just curious. ]
After suffering his own scrapes and bruises from picking through places just off the campus line, he'd detoured back and spent the rest of his time taking care of them. Superficial things, really, but he'd stripped down to a t-shirt that probably wasn't his and his ragged pair of jeans just to make sure. Both Dean and Sam's absence weren't a problem; he could contact them if he needed it, get in touch with some of the people who would help him if he couldn't. So, the quiet fills the part of the building they've claimed aside from the occasional outside interference, and he lights some of the candles they've managed to scavenge when it grows dark.
Except it's far more dark than he remembers it when he opens his eyes again, body stiff from having folded his legs up in some meditative pose. The light's burned out, and he frowns at his carelessness when the sounds catch his attention. If he hadn't known, by the steps or the breath or the click of the gun being dropped on the table, he would have tensed up and reached for the knife stashed under the mattress. But he unwinds himself and rolls out, purposely loud as he heads straight for the place he'd set the candles to light them. ]
Where were you? [ It's not accusatory, just curious. ]
[ The day could have been better.
It's late by the time he drags himself back to the academic building and into the rooms they've slowly cleaned out. Even if it still needs some work, it's closer to a home than anything either of them have had in a long time, and he feels as if he's growing comfortable there. Maybe too much, dropping the bag he carries by the door and gently resting his gun on the table. He'd gone to the dorms heading back from the docks, drenched in rain and sweat and too much else to get off with a quick rubdown. It had given him time to think about all the things that had happened, what he should do about it.
Regardless of anything else, he had to discuss them with Dean. The others were back now, not having been particularly missed in the first place, and everything seemed far more complicated than last time.
He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face and idly scratching at the side of his jaw as he looks around. Still damp from the shower, the added bit of rain as he'd crossed the campus didn't help cool him down. It's hotter than he remembers the summers at camp being, and it's only something else to add to the list of what he has to adjust to by being here. Hands through his hair, he moves into one of the smaller rooms where Dean is and heads straight for where they keep their extra clothes. ]
Something happened today. [ Is all he offers in way of greeting, words muffled when he pulls himself out of his shirt and changes into a thinner one. ]
It's late by the time he drags himself back to the academic building and into the rooms they've slowly cleaned out. Even if it still needs some work, it's closer to a home than anything either of them have had in a long time, and he feels as if he's growing comfortable there. Maybe too much, dropping the bag he carries by the door and gently resting his gun on the table. He'd gone to the dorms heading back from the docks, drenched in rain and sweat and too much else to get off with a quick rubdown. It had given him time to think about all the things that had happened, what he should do about it.
Regardless of anything else, he had to discuss them with Dean. The others were back now, not having been particularly missed in the first place, and everything seemed far more complicated than last time.
He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face and idly scratching at the side of his jaw as he looks around. Still damp from the shower, the added bit of rain as he'd crossed the campus didn't help cool him down. It's hotter than he remembers the summers at camp being, and it's only something else to add to the list of what he has to adjust to by being here. Hands through his hair, he moves into one of the smaller rooms where Dean is and heads straight for where they keep their extra clothes. ]
Something happened today. [ Is all he offers in way of greeting, words muffled when he pulls himself out of his shirt and changes into a thinner one. ]
[ an odd sense of peace has settled over dean in the past few days. though obviously not enough to calm the anger, the argument which had erupted the day before, things have still gone right back to a stance of something normal, peaceful... they're starting to develop a routine now, with this new place of theirs, with how life is being lead. and dean's finding himself enjoying it more than he might let on.
of course, this new direction that his relationship with cas has taken might be to blame too. sort of.
it's warm at their place, but dean's found himself something to tinker with inside all the same, fixing this or that which still needs to be looked at, since the building they've partly taken over is hardly in perfect living condition still. so when compass isn't making their lives miserable, he's fixing it, much like right now, when cas walks inside.
dean's eyes lift from whatever he's doing, noting the damp hair, the cleaner look, and the his focus is back on the task he has at hand. ]
And what's that.
of course, this new direction that his relationship with cas has taken might be to blame too. sort of.
it's warm at their place, but dean's found himself something to tinker with inside all the same, fixing this or that which still needs to be looked at, since the building they've partly taken over is hardly in perfect living condition still. so when compass isn't making their lives miserable, he's fixing it, much like right now, when cas walks inside.
dean's eyes lift from whatever he's doing, noting the damp hair, the cleaner look, and the his focus is back on the task he has at hand. ]
And what's that.
CONTACT: lone.wanderer@compass.net
MESSAGE: hey
what're you up to?
MESSAGE: hey
what're you up to?
Edited (sorry forgot the day/time) 2014-04-06 16:55 (UTC)
[ By the time he focuses on his surroundings, everything is dark.
Night has fallen, and he's sitting off one of the main roads in an a car that's out of gas. The worst part, he thinks, is the bitter tang of blood in the air, and Castiel looks around, through the windows and the busted windshield before finally settling on the unmoving weight in his lap. If it hadn't been for the exit wound, the copious amounts of blood everywhere, Dean would almost look peaceful resting there against his thigh. He touches the tips of his fingers to his cheek, the slope of his nose. Maybe it's finally sinking in now, what he'd done. The scream of the infected, the jerk of the gun in his hand —
He can't. He can't. ]
I'm sorry. [ He chokes on those words, and he's pushing himself from the backseat, scrambling for the handle to get out. ] I'm sorry.
[ Outside, the door still open, he crouches down and covers his head with his hands. His clothes are coated in red, bits of gore clinging to his skin, and he stays there for several long minutes, trying to breathe and figure out what he's going to do. He has no idea, but he doesn't want to leave him like this. That, and he has to make it back to campus. ]
Night has fallen, and he's sitting off one of the main roads in an a car that's out of gas. The worst part, he thinks, is the bitter tang of blood in the air, and Castiel looks around, through the windows and the busted windshield before finally settling on the unmoving weight in his lap. If it hadn't been for the exit wound, the copious amounts of blood everywhere, Dean would almost look peaceful resting there against his thigh. He touches the tips of his fingers to his cheek, the slope of his nose. Maybe it's finally sinking in now, what he'd done. The scream of the infected, the jerk of the gun in his hand —
He can't. He can't. ]
I'm sorry. [ He chokes on those words, and he's pushing himself from the backseat, scrambling for the handle to get out. ] I'm sorry.
[ Outside, the door still open, he crouches down and covers his head with his hands. His clothes are coated in red, bits of gore clinging to his skin, and he stays there for several long minutes, trying to breathe and figure out what he's going to do. He has no idea, but he doesn't want to leave him like this. That, and he has to make it back to campus. ]
[There was something to be said for the Infected and their approach to attacking. Whereas vampires tried to be scheme-y and clever nine times out of ten, these guys were just blunt instruments. When they went at it, they really went at it. And you could hear them coming.
Not that she enjoyed fending them off, but at least none of them had managed to take her by surprise, so far.
Which made Fatima bold.
So she was out at night, continuing her work of looting the abandoned cars in the street. So far, she'd managed to college a discarded bag of sunflower seeds, a couple truly fabulous lipsticks, and about half a dozen Teletubbies keychains. The keychains were fairly useless and the lipstick, while pleasant, wouldn't get her far. The sunflower seeds, however, were what kept her going back. One person's trash was another person's treasure and she was eager to find any other seeds that might be useful once they got back to Zelien.
There was no doubt in her mind that they would, eventually, return.
So there she was, walking down the middle of the roadway, high heels clicking, when she hears movement up ahead. A slash and a grunt of pain later and her hands are on fire. If it's a zombie, she'll burn his ass. If it's something else...well...at least she'll be able to see.]
Not that she enjoyed fending them off, but at least none of them had managed to take her by surprise, so far.
Which made Fatima bold.
So she was out at night, continuing her work of looting the abandoned cars in the street. So far, she'd managed to college a discarded bag of sunflower seeds, a couple truly fabulous lipsticks, and about half a dozen Teletubbies keychains. The keychains were fairly useless and the lipstick, while pleasant, wouldn't get her far. The sunflower seeds, however, were what kept her going back. One person's trash was another person's treasure and she was eager to find any other seeds that might be useful once they got back to Zelien.
There was no doubt in her mind that they would, eventually, return.
So there she was, walking down the middle of the roadway, high heels clicking, when she hears movement up ahead. A slash and a grunt of pain later and her hands are on fire. If it's a zombie, she'll burn his ass. If it's something else...well...at least she'll be able to see.]
[ it's not the first time dean's kicked it. maybe not in zelien before, but back home he's embraced death one too many times. of course, it doesn't make dying and coming back all that much fun even if it's not the newest experience. once he's dug himself out of the grave, greeted by the deep dark sky of zelien -- not london -- dean... lingers. there are messages in the inbox of his device, all left by cas. he reads over them slowly, the surge of emotions threatening to come with each new text almost overwhelming. he smothers them though, forces them away as he slowly deletes the texts.
dean heads home.
he does so slowly, not stopping to see anyone, to contact anyone. he knows he'll have to reach out to sam at some point, but in this moment it can wait. first he has something else to do, which leads to him making his way to the place he knows he shares with cas. in the darkness of night, he slips into the building, quiet but sure...
no sounds greet him, and after a quiet cas? he realizes the other man isn't home. all the better, as he strides into their shared bedroom, only pausing for a moment as green eyes fall to their mattress... but he has no time for that, is instead dragging out a beat up old duffel from the corner of the room, and throws it onto the bed. after that he's filling it with the few belonging he has, working quietly but effectively. ]
dean heads home.
he does so slowly, not stopping to see anyone, to contact anyone. he knows he'll have to reach out to sam at some point, but in this moment it can wait. first he has something else to do, which leads to him making his way to the place he knows he shares with cas. in the darkness of night, he slips into the building, quiet but sure...
no sounds greet him, and after a quiet cas? he realizes the other man isn't home. all the better, as he strides into their shared bedroom, only pausing for a moment as green eyes fall to their mattress... but he has no time for that, is instead dragging out a beat up old duffel from the corner of the room, and throws it onto the bed. after that he's filling it with the few belonging he has, working quietly but effectively. ]
[ He's tired.
There are more things to complain about, he thinks, than the way his body continues to drag him down or the fact that some days feel like they're bleeding together. It's been like that for a while now though, since London and possibly before that too. He can't sleep, and when he does, it's jagged and restless, full of dreams he doesn't keep and ones that refuse to leave him. He's alone, and he's bitter about it. But he doesn't complain because this suits him well enough in the end. He deserves everything he's gotten, even the reminder that he hadn't been on his own once, and it's why he only returns to the room they shared when it's late.
Castiel expects it to be the same routine as it is every night--go in, drop his things on the table, drop into the bed and waste several hours getting poor sleep. That, and it's getting colder. There's a hint of the days growing shorter, harder, and he's not particularly thrilled with the idea of winter considering the room needs more work. But it's a thought that slips away when he realizes something seems off when he gets there. Something's... different.
The door's not as he'd left it, and it sounds like someone's inside. Since he hadn't invited anyone over and it's warded from top to bottom, he doubts it's someone he knows. Which, as it so happens, leaves only one alternative. Castiel doesn't want to deal with this, but he doesn't want to lose any of the things that are there. Their things-- He's inside without even thinking, taking the advantage and moving in silently until he makes out the body. It's much too dark to see anything but a solid silhouette, but he's slowly lifting the gun he carries anyhow. ]
Stop. [ He speaks evenly, the faintest sound as he releases the safety. ] And turn around.
[ And get out. He's too exhausted to shoot anyone right now. ]
There are more things to complain about, he thinks, than the way his body continues to drag him down or the fact that some days feel like they're bleeding together. It's been like that for a while now though, since London and possibly before that too. He can't sleep, and when he does, it's jagged and restless, full of dreams he doesn't keep and ones that refuse to leave him. He's alone, and he's bitter about it. But he doesn't complain because this suits him well enough in the end. He deserves everything he's gotten, even the reminder that he hadn't been on his own once, and it's why he only returns to the room they shared when it's late.
Castiel expects it to be the same routine as it is every night--go in, drop his things on the table, drop into the bed and waste several hours getting poor sleep. That, and it's getting colder. There's a hint of the days growing shorter, harder, and he's not particularly thrilled with the idea of winter considering the room needs more work. But it's a thought that slips away when he realizes something seems off when he gets there. Something's... different.
The door's not as he'd left it, and it sounds like someone's inside. Since he hadn't invited anyone over and it's warded from top to bottom, he doubts it's someone he knows. Which, as it so happens, leaves only one alternative. Castiel doesn't want to deal with this, but he doesn't want to lose any of the things that are there. Their things-- He's inside without even thinking, taking the advantage and moving in silently until he makes out the body. It's much too dark to see anything but a solid silhouette, but he's slowly lifting the gun he carries anyhow. ]
Stop. [ He speaks evenly, the faintest sound as he releases the safety. ] And turn around.
[ And get out. He's too exhausted to shoot anyone right now. ]
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