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)
oasislogs2016-04-08 12:34 am
strangelic) wrote in oasislogs2016-04-08 12:34 am
Log; Catchall
WHO: Castiel and you
WHERE: Warehouse (and city)
WHEN: April (First prompt before the spam and cheese delivery, otherwise any time in april)
WARNINGS: none as of yet
SUMMARY: Catchall log for april
Food was getting desperate. Castiel was aware of it, even with their dwindling group. People needed to eat, not that Castiel was much of a hunter himself. He felt too kindly for the little animals in the forest. Instead, he gathered nuts and berries, and dug up yucca root from the forest floor, looking apologetically around at the strips of drying meat. Poor Bambi.
He wouldn't mind help sorting the nuts, but, of course, someone might get hungry just watching him, and he's a little softer about handling rations than everyone else. He can always go looking for more, no matter how Daryl might feel about their only healer endangering himself, so there's no point in anyone starving themselves.
---
Humans were always getting injured, Castiel lamented. Of course, the situation was exacerbated by this place, which seemed to have had all its edges sharpened to a point. Here, a piece of barbed wire would mean certain death from toxic shock. There were plants and animals in the forest with poisons in their skin, and teeth, and tails. And then there were the deeper infections, illnesses, and things that sank deeper, took longer to make their purposes known.
Castiel still found healing an uncomfortable thing, strangely intimate, but it was the least that he was still good for. He had fashioned his "room" in the warehouse, carved into an L-shape of nailed together crates, to give his patients a little privacy, and filled it with anything soft he could find--anything that was spare, chunks of broken foam mattresses and styrofoam shapes, among other things. It wasn't much of a doctor's office...more like a nest, really.
---
Out in the streets, life was even more risky, though the streets were much quieter now. Most of the slippery walkers had been killed, but the cannibals were still there, some of them, the sneakier, cleverer ones. Castiel wasn't here for himself; he'd seen another person leaving, and rather than let them wander the city streets alone, he'd followed them without thinking. They'd only find themselves in trouble, out there.
Perhaps if he just spoke to them...
---
Or write your own!
WHERE: Warehouse (and city)
WHEN: April (First prompt before the spam and cheese delivery, otherwise any time in april)
WARNINGS: none as of yet
SUMMARY: Catchall log for april
Food was getting desperate. Castiel was aware of it, even with their dwindling group. People needed to eat, not that Castiel was much of a hunter himself. He felt too kindly for the little animals in the forest. Instead, he gathered nuts and berries, and dug up yucca root from the forest floor, looking apologetically around at the strips of drying meat. Poor Bambi.
He wouldn't mind help sorting the nuts, but, of course, someone might get hungry just watching him, and he's a little softer about handling rations than everyone else. He can always go looking for more, no matter how Daryl might feel about their only healer endangering himself, so there's no point in anyone starving themselves.
---
Humans were always getting injured, Castiel lamented. Of course, the situation was exacerbated by this place, which seemed to have had all its edges sharpened to a point. Here, a piece of barbed wire would mean certain death from toxic shock. There were plants and animals in the forest with poisons in their skin, and teeth, and tails. And then there were the deeper infections, illnesses, and things that sank deeper, took longer to make their purposes known.
Castiel still found healing an uncomfortable thing, strangely intimate, but it was the least that he was still good for. He had fashioned his "room" in the warehouse, carved into an L-shape of nailed together crates, to give his patients a little privacy, and filled it with anything soft he could find--anything that was spare, chunks of broken foam mattresses and styrofoam shapes, among other things. It wasn't much of a doctor's office...more like a nest, really.
---
Out in the streets, life was even more risky, though the streets were much quieter now. Most of the slippery walkers had been killed, but the cannibals were still there, some of them, the sneakier, cleverer ones. Castiel wasn't here for himself; he'd seen another person leaving, and rather than let them wander the city streets alone, he'd followed them without thinking. They'd only find themselves in trouble, out there.
Perhaps if he just spoke to them...
---
Or write your own!
no subject
Castiel had to admit, there was something of a note of relief in his voice. Daryl was controlling, if only because he was protective, and somehow Castiel had found himself under that umbrella, protected despite his usual disinterest in it. He had become Dean's ward, in Purgatory, against his own wisdom, and it seemed to him that there was a distinct lack of interest in what he wanted.
If he could do this right, then perhaps one more increment toward respect would be earned. It was symbolic, already, of how much of Daryl's trust he'd earned so far.
Castiel nodded, and waited, his every sense tuned past the gentle patter of the rain. He waited until five seconds had passed precisely, and then stepped ahead, making his way forward, then turning into the open space. Whatever it was, it was following him. Good.
no subject
He crouched low along the edge of the roof. He distance between himself and Castiel wasn't good. He could probably hit whatever came, but he wasn't sure his arrow would have enough power to take a threat down in one shot. Still, he had to be ready to try.
It took another couple breaths before Daryl spotted what had been following them. One of the runners. Too smart and too decomposed to be anything else. It was mirroring Castiel's progress, but keeping to the protection of the nearby cars while it figured out the best way to hit it's prey.
Daryl took advantage of the earpieces, muttering a soft 'Private line to Castiel' before speaking in a low tone to his friend, "Runner. On your left. Five yards. Back passenger wheel of the red sedan and moving to the front. Can't get a good line on it. See if you can move it back towards me some."