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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: 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. ]
fixed the jacket.
is it still mine
is it still mine
Edited 2013-10-17 02:51 (UTC)
[ 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? ]
CONTACT: dean.winchester@compass.net
MESSAGE: we need to talk
MESSAGE: we need to talk
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.
[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.]
[ 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!
CONTACT: lone.wanderer@compass.net
MESSAGE: Hey, are you busy?
MESSAGE: Hey, are you busy?
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?
CONTACT: dean.win chester@compass.net
MESSAGE: you've been here a while, right?
MESSAGE: you've been here a while, right?
CONTACT: isaac.lahey@compass.net
MESSAGE: speakeasys open again
MESSAGE: speakeasys open again
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.
[ 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. ]
[ 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. ]
[ 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. ]
[ 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. ]
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. ]
[ 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. ]
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