This is a curse that can't be stopped

[strangelic]

WHO: OPEN MINGLE
WHERE: The Warehouse, The City, The Forest
WHEN: However long the rain falls and the siege lasts.
WARNINGS: Undead, violence, gore, murder. Note in comments anything else and I'll add.
SUMMARY: With sloppy zombies and cannibals running the show out in the city, everyone is feeling a little cooped up back at the warehouse. But as much rainwater as they have to drink, people still need to eat

The Warehouse

After a day or two, the perimeter had been secured far enough back to light a fire out of sight of the top windows of the warehouse, so that everyone could keep warm, even when the rain was pouring outside. There was plenty of water, consequently, to drink, but food and dry firewood was limited, both difficult to get back to the warehouse without coming upon one predator or another outside. The longer the siege went on - and that was exactly what it was - and the longer the rain poured, the more miserable their confinement was. Food came in the form of meat, mostly, and the occasional tropical fruit found on the forest floor, with no way to go out into the forest to scavenge for berries or nuts. Even hunting was risky, with the forest alive the way it was. At night, when the fire was lit, it was the only place to get warm. There were blankets, enough barely not to have to share, and conversation murmured around the fire from those who stayed close to it, even if some of those trapped there were more inclined to mope in their own silence. Visitors, of course, were more than welcome--unless they were the maneating kind, and perhaps one night, with a crash, some uninvited guests might slip through the cracks, and come upon the survivors in their sleep.

The City

It was enough to try and survive. Closing up the sewer entrances was crucial, of course, in order to keep those things still down there confined, but driving back the intruders was work that needed organizing, needed strong hands together, and no small effort. Trips out into the city were more dangerous that trips into the forest, but they were essential too, to reconnaissance how to take back the city - if at all - and then to go out and do it. Bringing together a team to do so meant organizing them, in the warehouse, around the campfire. Then it would be time to press out into the city itself. Who is this brave leader? Who fights beside them? Or shall we hide away until we starve? Perhaps, though, someone just needs rescuing, someone who's hid away elsewhere in the city, or just arrived, and needs a little help getting somewhere safe. Maybe their run just went a little bit...wrong.

The Forest

Food was essential to survival, and wood, too, was running low. Of course all the trees in the forest were just as damp, not to mention enormous burdens to sneak back in past the city walls to the warehouse. Trips out into the trees were risky, but they had to be made by the ambitious and the strong, or the brave and the foolish. The rain still poured down, of course, obliterating tracks, making it hard to move, or to pick out landmarks, the luscious undergrowth dulled to a thick, monotonous gray-green, soaking anyone not already wet through the moment they brushed against it. The animals cowered too, the rainfall making it impossible to hear when predators were creeping up on them, and the same applied to the zombies, stirred to life by all the commotion, hunting the hunters. Perhaps it's just a case of one wanderer coming upon another, unplanned, or is there purpose in this woodland meeting?

Comments

Castiel - open

[strangelic]

The Warehouse

1. Daryl had elected Castiel as their group's healer, and while he was reticent to do the job, it wasn't like there was anyone else on hand who could do more than stitch a wound, even if they had the right tools on hand. That moment, he became their doctor, for everything from bumps and cuts to broken bones, sepsis, concussion.

But coming to him to be healed wasn't a simple case of wham, bam, thank you ma'am. Nervous, Castiel would make conversation, drumming his fingertips awkwardly.

"How did you do this to yourself?"


2. Sitting at the campfire at night, Castiel simply stared into the flames, watching them rise and fall and flicker. It was like a dance, a language of life burning away, and it was easier to occupy his time thinking about the summer days that it had seen as a tree than on the pounding of the rain on the windows, and the flesh eating creatures in the city beyond the walls.

But the fire was shared, and so were the blankets. Castiel didn't need one, so he didn't wear one of his own, no matter how long he sat by the fire as though he needed the warmth. He would listen to the conversation, the planning, and any songs - if any - that people sang to lift their spirits, but part of him still felt low. Part of him still believed that most of the people sitting around the fire would die, soon enough.

It was melancholy, and his expression made his feelings more than obvious, even if he didn't necessarily voice them.


Warehouse/City/Forest

Wildcard! Recon into the city, or running into people in the forest could work out.

[peacekeep]

"People get hurt all the time where I'm from," she softly explained, looking down and away from him. She had come to find him to thank him for his help when she first arrived, now that things were going better for her and she was getting settled in. She hadn't quite managed to get out the gratitude before the matter of her face was brought up, and it was with a self-conscious touch to the stitches on her cheek that she tried answering.

"I slipped and fell on the pod I arrived here in. That's how I hurt my chin." She knew that, at least. She was curious about something, though. "How are you gonna be able to make any of it better? It's just got to heal on it's own, with time."

[strangelic]

Castiel had settled right down into the warehouse. It was pouring down still beyond the windows, sleet gray that fell in long, ugly sheets. He was sat on the floor, cross legged, and he looked up at her as she settled. He'd ignored her cuts before, more or less, but now they were the focus of his attention, given his new role.

"Accidents happen," he agreed, softly.

"I..." He considered how to approach answering the question. "I'm a faith healer." It was true, that was a precise and accurate description of what he was. "I can heal simply by laying my hands on you. It's a gift."

[peacekeep]

"A gift," she repeated, giving him a confused look. She had heard stories from her daddy and other people at church about people who were healed by God and their faith, but hadn't ever actually experienced someone claiming it firsthand.

"So we're gonna pray until things heal themselves? Is that how it works?" She sounded almost childish in her quiet fascination with the matter, but how jaded her time with Dawn had made her leaked through and she couldn't keep some doubt out of her tone.

She knew he said he would put his hands on her and she'd be healed, but it couldn't be that simple, could it?

[strangelic]

"Praying isn't necessary," he answered, meeting her gaze. "The power is inside me, that's all."

He swallowed, ducking his head. Okay, so he'd probably have to explain himself, sooner or later. If Daryl hadn't told Beth what he was, then Maggie would, once he'd spoken to her. They were sisters, Daryl had told him, and Maggie believed. Maggie would tell Beth anyway, ask her if she thought it was true, try to find some kind of common ground.

There was no point in concealing it, even if finding the words to explain it was less easy.

"Do you remember I told you that I can do incredible things--and that...that you shouldn't be afraid?"

[peacekeep]

She nodded, making eye contact as she tried to tell if he was serious or not. He sounded like he believed in this, that he was able to heal her. She was desperate for something to believe in, something that would give her as much hope as she had a few years ago.

"Show me. Please." It was begging him to do it, her voice wavering as she tried to not get emotional over something that hadn't even been proven to her yet.

"Just don't heal this," her hand went to touch at the deeper wound on her cheek. "Not yet. I need to keep it."

[strangelic]

He was halfway toward raising his hand toward her cheek when she spoke, and he hesitated, dropping his fingers back, curling them in against his knee as he frowned at her.

"You need to keep it?"

It didn't make much sense, at least not to him. It wasn't the first time. When he'd healed Dean after Lucifer's beating, he'd fixed him up so that all of his scars had vanished, even the ones he'd gotten as a child, and while he hadn't exactly complained...

"Why?"

[peacekeep]

Beth was quiet for a while, trying to figure out how to properly explain it to him. "Because it proves that I'm strong. That I survived something someone else may not have."

She understood that was likely a sentiment he didn't understand, because he may not have ever been treated weak or like a child. "And I thought that maybe people won't think I'm a little girl anymore, if they can see that I'm strong too."

And maybe she wouldn't think it anymore either, but she didn't add that on. She needed her scars to remind herself of the time she had lost the last bit of her innocence, when she could've given in and let the apocalypse finally take her down but she kept on fighting instead.

[strangelic]

"You're alive," he said, baffled. "Isn't that proof enough?"

But who was he to speak? Here he was, still wearing his ragged coat and ruined clothes, his hair still very askew, bearded. They were all symbolic of his time in Purgatory, and he clung to them because he didn't want to let it go, didn't want to move on from being the person he'd been in Purgatory. This world...this world really was better suited to that Castiel, than any he could come to be if he tried to be himself again.

And if someone washed his coat for him, he might be a little mad about it.

So he paused, chewing his lip for a moment, before he finally angled his head in agreement. "Nevertheless, I think I understand." He lifted his hand again, bringing it toward her temple. She still had time to flinch away, otherwise he'd lay two fingers against her, healing all but the cut across her cheek.

[borntorebel]

After coming to the city with Han and Daryl and then having to flee to the warehouse, Leia's patience with all things associated with the ceaseless rain and hail was running a little thin. But, since she was new, she needed to keep her wits about her, and talking to others was the best distraction she could think of.

She noticed the strange many just sitting by the fire, staring into the flames and giving off a distinct air of sadness. The look on his face just sold the whole "sad sack" theme he had going on.

"I can think of a million other things we could be trying to do than sitting around, but sometimes that's all you can do." She takes up a seat next to him and wraps her arms around her knees. "Is there something on your mind you'd like to talk about?"

[strangelic]

Castiel didn't startle too much when she joined him, but there was just a touch of nervousness there. Even surrounded by people, the nervousness from Purgatory still hung on him. The Earth as it was now, overrun by creatures, was much like the place he'd come from, and survival depended on vigilance.

But they were safe here, he had to keep reminding himself of that, and the people here didn't want to kill any of the other survivors, least of all him. Harmless, quiet angel, hardly a threat to anyone.

"You're the woman from before. Han called you Leia--correct?"

[borntorebel]

Leia still doesn't know everyone's stories, but she's seen enough warriors to recognize the signs of battle shock. The other leaders had always said she had a way with the men who needed more help, but she'd only written that off as being able to understand them better. Perhaps it was something to do with her latent Force powers, not that she's too keen on actually trying to do anything with them at a time like this. No, instead now, she has an obligation to try and keep this man's spirits up as much as anyone else does.

She tries to give him a gentle smile at his question.

"Yes, I am. Leia Organa...Solo, at your service. I fear that I didn't catch your name at the time."

[strangelic]

Solo, really? He might come back to that topic, further along the way, but for the moment he only tilted his body slightly toward her, his former suggestion of stoic, deliberately sought loneliness snapping neatly into gentle companionship.

"I didn't give it. Castiel." He offered his hand out toward her in greeting. "It's nice to meet you in person--and see that you survived the forest."

It isn't lifted spirits, really, but he's certainly engaged, which is a step up from sadly staring into the flames, with his mind wandering to past mistakes.

[borntorebel]

Well, she did say that she had enough experience dealing with Han. However, it's nice to see him sort of... perk up at the chance to engage in conversation.

"Castiel. I can't say that I've ever heard of a name like that before, but, then again, I've heard a lot of strange names in my time." She takes his hand and gives it a nice, firm shake. "Thank you for being concerned about my welfare. Between Daryl and Han, I was adequately secure in getting here."

Not to mention she is more than capable of defending herself, but the help is always nice.

"Forgive me if I sound a little out of line, but you hardly seem comfortable here. Is there something I can do to help you?"

[strangelic]

She was perceptive, he realized, angling his head slightly at the question. How he began to respond to that, he didn't know, but for a moment his shoulders curled incrementally inward, and his gaze shifted quickly to the fire and then back again, like he was looking for a way to avoid the topic.

He didn't shirk it, however, no matter how tempted he was to do so. She'd left him room to pull away from the topic if he needed to, and for that he was grateful, but there was no reason to hide, or fail to answer.

"Human life is fragile, isn't it? It shows how resilient it is, at times like this, but eventually everything dies and is consumed, like the flame consumes." He exhales slowly, lowering his eyes into his lap. "It's hard to sit comfortably with people when the chances of them being gone tomorrow, or the day after, looms omnipresent."

[borntorebel]

Though only twenty-five, Leia's always been far more empathetic and perceptive than anyone else around her. It's made it infinitely easier to do her job as princess, Senator, Rebel leader and council member. Understanding others and where they're coming from makes it easier to know how to help them, after all.

It's a part of her heritage as a Skywalker and touched by the Force, she's sure.

"Yes, human life is fragile. All life is where I'm from, but it's through this fragility that we learn to truly live." She sighs, trying not to think of the many men and women she's lost, both close and not. "I could die in the next second, but that doesn't scare me. Living a life that would make my parents proud is how I've gotten by for a while now. And I think they would be. At least I hope they will.

"Wasting time on what could happen means that I stop focusing on what I can do right now to improve things. Enjoy the time that you have with the people around you. Because when they're gone, that's what you'll have, the place in your heart and soul that they've touched."

[strangelic]

Castiel wasn't sure he knew how to truly live, as she said, but he listened anyway, considering her quietly, considering her own sadness, which lingered in her words even as she continued.

"You misunderstand," Castiel said, after a moment of contemplative silence. "I'm not afraid of them dying. I'm only aware that... When you're all gone, this place will still be my prison. I'm anticipating how that will feel."

Another pause. "And I don't have a soul to speak of, which isn't to say that I care any less for the people who influence me. It's just that caring doesn't seem to make them any less fragile."

2!

[kickingand]

Dean, in an odd, desperate attempt to keep busy, searched for wood. If they planned on keeping the fire stable they were going to need far more of it than anyone likely anticipated and far too much of it was soaked to the core. And so Dean did what he could to keep moving, wandering, not stopping long enough to think at any particular moment and instead listening into the depths of the forest until he returned. But really, the whole thing was just an excuse to search for anything. To walk, almost aimlessly, hoping that he might stumble upon something. Anything at all that could mean something. It wouldn't matter at this point, but he'd take what he could get.

It also meant a lot of running. And making use of Castiel's blade, until he was splattered in a fine veneer of filth.

Making his way back to the warehouse, Dean finally resolved to keeping still. He wasn't going to crack under the weight of his desperate resilience, but he hadn't seen Cas in hours and, well, he was used to keeping him in his line of sight. And so Dean returned, ever the non-triumphant hunter, dropping down at Cas' side and outright ignoring just how unkempt he looked, but not even remotely bypassing how utterly dejected Cas looked. He was lost in the flames and finally Dean leaned forward, attention turned onto the angel, trying to get him to give him his eyes.

[strangelic]

It was always hard when they were apart for long periods of time. Castiel had grown use to Dean's constant company, his vigilance, and while he understood that they had a great deal to accomplish on their own backs, it was hard sometimes, not to see Dean for hours. Who watched his back, when Dean wasn't there? And who would watch Dean's? Not that he worried or anything. Dean survived apocalypses, survived Purgatory, and Castiel wasn't worried for him. He always found a way to make it through.

But he felt a surge of relief when Dean was back in his sight, none the less, even if he didn't voice it, or even glance toward him. It was only when Dean tried to get his attention that he stirred, glanced up at him.

"You look awful."

[kickingand]

"And you look like you're thinking too damn hard."

Dean lifted his eyebrows insistently, pushing his opinion with the hopes of glossing over Castiel's own. He didn't want to have to respond to how he looked when it didn't really matter all that much. He'd been out in the muck; so what. Life enjoyed kicking him in the ass and sometimes he actually looked it. Not like there were mirrors around save for the reflection in other people's eyes but if there was one person who could get away with commenting, it would be Cas.

Cas, who always had all the right in the world to poke at him. Cas, who had earned the privilege to provide commentary, despite Dean's insistence to backslide into his more primitive brain at any given opportunity. There were reasons he needed to stay closer to Cas: the angel made it easier to hold onto the things he needed to be, because Cas held on too.

"Not that i've got a cure for that."

[strangelic]

"No, but I do."

He reached across, touching his fingertips against Dean's shoulder. Immediately the rain, cold and blood lifted off him, leaving Dean clean and dry. Still grizzled, obviously, unkempt, but at least not strewn with debris. Now if only Castiel would do the same to himself.

Drawing his hand back, with what was a sudden jerk more than a smooth action, Castiel only drew into himself, tilting his head ever so slightly toward his knees.

"I was wondering..." A pause, and then: "I suppose it's strange to bring it up now."

Silence thereafter, like he'd decided to not talk about it after all.

[kickingand]

Dean almost perked up with a quiet 'huh' but the peculiarities of Cas' statement was solved in an instant, with the brush of the angel's fingertips. Dean was left blinking, looking down at himself as he was cleaned and dried in the snap of fingers. He hadn't asked for it, and some part of him had even accepted the filth, but he couldn't complain about being dry. Or clean. Especially not when Cas was acting particularly strange, bundling into himself that much more, leaving Dean trying to asses the situation that he'd just walked into.

Despite his curiosity, and partially because of it, the thanks went silent, hovering in the air for a moment before Dean refocused himself onto Cas' continued withdrawal.

"You gonna tell me what's up or am I gonna have to guess?"

Leaning back onto his palms, Dean easily waited, figuring that Cas would up and out with it sooner or later. That or he'd wave it off altogether and leave it to be forgotten, in which case Dean would have to do the same.

[strangelic]

"Daryl asked me to be the group's...healer."

He shifted slightly, looking up at Dean shyly. "You remember how well that went last time. What happened with Sam--we haven't even discussed it since the hospital, and for that I'm grateful, but--"

He had added that 'for that I'm grateful' because going over it in any respect filled his stomach with lead. Purgatory or not, he carried that weight with him, what he'd done to Sam, and what it had done to him to take it away. He still wasn't better. God, he was so far from better, there was no denying it. But Dean was always patient with him, and everyone else just thought it was the natural state of his oddity. His guilt, his regret, his fears?

Healing people was hard for him; not physically, he could do it with a thought, but emotionally, he was finding, it was more difficult than he realized. Hell, he was still just, frankly, traumatized by it all. Not that he knew that was the word to put to it.

Dean knew, so he didn't push on.

"I had to agree. And today, I had my first patient. She wanted to keep one of her wounds, so that the scar would help her to remember what she'd been through." A pause. "Like removing it would mean forgetting."

[kickingand]

Dean shouldn't have been altogether surprised that Cas up and decided to talk - it's not as if he'd yet taken on Dean's bad habits of poor communication. Dean was the one that bypassed topics and brushed them off, slipped out of the way and did anything to avoid. But Cas dove right in and Dean listened, half of his face glowing warmer from the fire as he turned his attention fully.

He couldn't exactly say the topic was one he wanted to linger on once Cas got started, but it wasn't his decision. Cas was talking and so he listened, jaw set tightly, drawn with concern.

"Uh huh... okay." Dean followed along gently enough, gaze narrowing for a moment as he tried to figure out where Cas was going with this one. Because he wasn't entirely sure that Cas should be up and healing anybody that needed it, considering past experiences. But what was he gonna do- make him say no? That'd be bad form for everyone involved and there'd be questions. Expectations. Demands. Cas could do it so why shouldn't he and Dean could get behind that. To the best of his ability.

In the same token, he didn't need Cas going off the deep end. He couldn't do it again, he just couldn't. Wouldn't. Shouldn't have to. And yet there was no decisions to be made in the matter. Dean had to shut up and put up and watch Cas struggle through his own miseries, as if watching his failings pulled out of him one by one.

But Cas had agreed and Dean nodded once, the only amount he was willing to hand over. And yet it was Cas' next words that left him hanging, brow furrowed in confusion as to why exactly this was the thing that was being brought up. Apart from knowing he had no say in Cas being a healer, he couldn't see the connection.

"Some people are just weird about that kinda shit, Cas.

[strangelic]

Castiel could sense Dean's apprehension, and it was why he moved on with the topic just as soon as he could. The last thing he wanted to do was sit and muse on how trying to fix one of these people up could end him up right back down that rabbit hole. It scared him immensely, and was the last thing he wanted to do, but...but it was necessary. He was needed, and he'd laid himself out as a healer, so he'd just have to suck it up and heal.

If he kept it to broken bones and scratches, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. He certainly wasn't in any hurry to get back into people's heads the way he did with Sam.

His eyes returned to the fire, because the fire couldn't look at him with accusation or confusion.

"So you don't mind?" he asked, airily. "--That I stole your history when I healed you on that battlefield?"