Castiel; The Fallen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
strangelic) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
oasislogs2016-03-20 10:00 pm
strangelic) wrote in oasislogs2016-03-20 10:00 pm
This is a curse that can't be stopped
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
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?
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?
no subject
"No, you wouldn't have let me know," he said, firmly, with conviction. "You'd pretend it didn't matter."
He turned his body, so that he could reach across and place his hand firmly on Dean's shoulder, looking intently at him. His fingers lay where once that scar had marked him.
"There's nothing here. While there was, it meant something. We've lost something since then."
no subject
The hand dropped onto his shoulder brought him back to the ring, glancing back up and over but only feeling worse at Castiel's words.
"We haven't lost- Cas. It's just changed."
Dean didn't know what else to say. He didn't know how to make it better, or make Cas believe that what was left wasn't fucked up. Not entirely. But there had been years, what felt like a millennia since then, and there was no reason why it shouldn't be different. Why their relationship shouldn't have morphed. Purgatory, Leviathan, everything that had altered their path - it just wasn't as simple as a handprint had once made it be. But Dean couldn't dwell because it'd just break his heart.
no subject
Castiel knew, really. The loss that he felt was perhaps a loss of innocence. They had a tight bond, but it was more in the realms of survivors standing together now, rather than what it had been before. He knew that they'd changed, he was just musing on the way things had been. They'd all made mistakes since then, but to be honest, most of those were Castiel's mistakes, rather than Dean's.
He rubbed his own cheek against his own shoulder, squeezed Dean's, then let his hand drop away.
"At least not on the outside."
no subject
Dean wasn't entirely sure if it was a stupid question or not, but it seemed like it was what Cas was angling at. That he wanted some resilient impression of what they'd been through. Some physical reminder that Dean could look at once again, a way to tie himself to Cas without even having to be in the same vicinity. Dean thought he could still do those things well enough but he hadn't thought that Cas would miss, well- something more. Apparently he was wrong.
Cas still had Dean's full attention, even if the angel was staring into the flames. He just couldn't look away, as if he was waiting for the right words.
no subject
"You think that's what I want? Until today I didn't even know that anyone could want to carry a memory cut into their flesh. It seems so counterintuitive..."
How could he explain this? He couldn't even get his own head around it, but, for example, when it came to everything that he'd done, the idea of it being carved into stone somewhere, even if was in his own flesh, was impossible to bear. He looked pleadingly at Dean, a little bit desperate. "How can something be forgiven, if it's never really gone?"
no subject
Waving a hand as if searching for words, Dean tried again.
"Because you find ways to forgive. Fixing things, healing- those don't just sweep all the shit under the rug. You've gotta be the one to move past it."
no subject
It was just the way he was wired now. A little less sensitive when he hadn't really been great at it before, and even more prone to going off topic when things challenged his feelings instead of someone else's. Like now.
"Do you think cannibals eat bees?"