[ Castiel wastes no time giving aid. Following instructions is his forte, and simply being useful is plenty enough of a dopamine kick for him. Figuratively, as he doesn't really... do neurochemicals. He’s just built different (literally). A crew member hands him two sandbags, and when Cas doesn’t start walking for the trench line, they attempt explaining the instructions again, which Cas quickly corrects. ]
I know, I'm waiting for more. Keep stacking, please.
[ it’ll be about six or seven sandbags before Cas feels adequately stocked, not so much that he’s hit his weight limit, more that he can't see over them anymore. Such is how he makes his trips to and fro, building up the floodwall with his new companions.
Later, when the same floodwalls fail and the power starts to flicker, Cas passes by someone struggling to change batteries in a flashlight. one tumbles out of hand, rolling out beyond the barriers, into the rain. Most people get an itchy rash from the rain, and Cas isn’t an exception, however, his rash will heal much faster than others. Wordlessly, he steps out, mild grimace at the red spots cropping up on the arm and hand exposed to the rain, and snags the stray battery. Cleaning it on what dry parts remain of his coat, he hands it back. ]
This may help.
[ opening the dry hand, golden-white light emits from somewhere beneath the skin of his palm, highlighting the lines and creases. It’ll give enough light for the stranger to see what they’re working on, the same offered to anyone else he encounters in need, though it only lasts several minutes at a time. ]
THE INTERACTIVE PLAY;
[ Castiel has never been to an interactive theatre production, so he’s keen to investigate. Unfortunately, he ends up one of those chosen to participate. Once the villain’s been symbolically quartered, Cas lingers on the stage, despite the heavy hinting that it’s time for guests to return to their seats.
Picking up the stray ribbon, he’s apparently taking this moment to give his critique of the work. ]
Entrails look nothing like this. They’re more... sinewy. Lumpy and coagulated.
[ he’s rubbing a piece of ribbon between his fingers, head at a tilt and frowning, before crouching down to speak directly to the symbolically dismembered villain on the stage floor, post their dramatic death. ]
Is it the glorification of mob violence or the horror of it that’s meant to be centered in this piece?
THE CULT;
[ Having seen many a Doomsday in his time, much of them long foretold and carved into old stones or ancient tombs, Castiel stops to give a listen to the street preachers, nodding along at the grim ramblings before engaging with them like an investigation. ]
Can you be more specific about these visions? Were there any beasts, repeating symbols, or cataclysmic weather? [ the questions are earnest and serious, cas willing to consider that a selection of mediums may have witnessed something supernatural. ] Was anyone enthralled in a trance-like state, or speaking in tongues?
WILDCARD;
[ Cas can also be found volunteering at the Aid Station, and would reasonably participate in the rescue mission. He’s also received Wanda’s spellbook, and can be found pouring over it at a table somewhere. Feel free to put him anywhere that works for the prompt you have in mind, or hit me up wuzzafuzzle to plot! ]
Castiel | Supernatural
[ Castiel wastes no time giving aid. Following instructions is his forte, and simply being useful is plenty enough of a dopamine kick for him. Figuratively, as he doesn't really... do neurochemicals. He’s just built different (literally). A crew member hands him two sandbags, and when Cas doesn’t start walking for the trench line, they attempt explaining the instructions again, which Cas quickly corrects. ]
I know, I'm waiting for more. Keep stacking, please.
[ it’ll be about six or seven sandbags before Cas feels adequately stocked, not so much that he’s hit his weight limit, more that he can't see over them anymore. Such is how he makes his trips to and fro, building up the floodwall with his new companions.
Later, when the same floodwalls fail and the power starts to flicker, Cas passes by someone struggling to change batteries in a flashlight. one tumbles out of hand, rolling out beyond the barriers, into the rain. Most people get an itchy rash from the rain, and Cas isn’t an exception, however, his rash will heal much faster than others. Wordlessly, he steps out, mild grimace at the red spots cropping up on the arm and hand exposed to the rain, and snags the stray battery. Cleaning it on what dry parts remain of his coat, he hands it back. ]
This may help.
[ opening the dry hand, golden-white light emits from somewhere beneath the skin of his palm, highlighting the lines and creases. It’ll give enough light for the stranger to see what they’re working on, the same offered to anyone else he encounters in need, though it only lasts several minutes at a time. ]
THE INTERACTIVE PLAY;
[ Castiel has never been to an interactive theatre production, so he’s keen to investigate. Unfortunately, he ends up one of those chosen to participate. Once the villain’s been symbolically quartered, Cas lingers on the stage, despite the heavy hinting that it’s time for guests to return to their seats.
Picking up the stray ribbon, he’s apparently taking this moment to give his critique of the work. ]
Entrails look nothing like this. They’re more... sinewy. Lumpy and coagulated.
[ he’s rubbing a piece of ribbon between his fingers, head at a tilt and frowning, before crouching down to speak directly to the symbolically dismembered villain on the stage floor, post their dramatic death. ]
Is it the glorification of mob violence or the horror of it that’s meant to be centered in this piece?
THE CULT;
[ Having seen many a Doomsday in his time, much of them long foretold and carved into old stones or ancient tombs, Castiel stops to give a listen to the street preachers, nodding along at the grim ramblings before engaging with them like an investigation. ]
Can you be more specific about these visions? Were there any beasts, repeating symbols, or cataclysmic weather? [ the questions are earnest and serious, cas willing to consider that a selection of mediums may have witnessed something supernatural. ] Was anyone enthralled in a trance-like state, or speaking in tongues?
WILDCARD;
[ Cas can also be found volunteering at the Aid Station, and would reasonably participate in the rescue mission. He’s also received Wanda’s spellbook, and can be found pouring over it at a table somewhere. Feel free to put him anywhere that works for the prompt you have in mind, or hit me up