[ Castiel wakes up, and the only thing out of the ordinary he feels is an odd stiffness - the kind he's learned means that he's been sitting still for too long. After less than a year in Norfinbury, in this mortal-ish body, it's still a novel feeling to him, but it's certainly not anything to be too concerned about. He rises to his feet, aching and a little disoriented, and peers around the room, looking for some indication of how much time has passed. Given that they're inside a windowless bunker, he doesn't have much success until he remembers his tablet's clock.
He kneels in the corner, rummaging through his bag. If anyone approaches as he's sorting through all the layers of cloth he's stuffed into it, he'll ask; ] How long was I asleep?
Bunker, outside
[ It's quickly become clear that something is going on here. He's not sure what, exactly, but seemingly everyone who participated in the seance missing that much missing time can't bode well. After making the rounds and checking with everyone he can safely reach within the bunker, though, nothing immediately jumps out at him as being off, and no one has posted about anything strange happening to the network just yet.
He supposes he could just leave it lie, and wait to see if anything happens. It's possible that would be the smart thing to do, in these circumstances. But there's an impending sense of dread that's eating at him, the unease mounting to physical discomfort, and it's making it difficult to stay still.
After some consideration and checking with others - what supplies they need, anything he should try in the surrounding residences or at the high school - he straps on his snow shoes and steps outside. He isn't sure what he hopes for more - that he'll find something, or that he won't. ]
Everywhere. Anywhere.
[ Castiel wakes up, and he is
r a d i a n t
burning bright as day, bright as sunlight, bright as divinity. Too bright to look at, and then some. The briefest glance in his direction burns his sihouette into one's vision like staring into the sun - a writing mass of feathers and flames, punctuated with constellations of yet-brighter dots. His eyes. Dozens of them, hundreds, maybe, and the light that lances from their gaze is enough to blind in an instant. For the first time in months he can see again, no longer limited by the constraints of a human skull with its two dull, forward-facing eyes. He can stretch and unfurl and be free of the confines of that tiny, fragile form. He feels powerful.
He feels empty. Achingly so, like lungs deprived of air. He wants to breathe in, swallow up everything around him to fuel his incandescence. ]
Oh. I was right. [ His voice echoes and whispers, completely unrecognizable when compared to how he sounds when speaking through James Novak's vocal cords. He turns his too-bright gaze on the nearest person, not yet aware of how painful it may be. ] We are anomalies again.
cw: body horror, horror hunger, too many eyes
[ Castiel wakes up, and the only thing out of the ordinary he feels is an odd stiffness - the kind he's learned means that he's been sitting still for too long. After less than a year in Norfinbury, in this mortal-ish body, it's still a novel feeling to him, but it's certainly not anything to be too concerned about. He rises to his feet, aching and a little disoriented, and peers around the room, looking for some indication of how much time has passed. Given that they're inside a windowless bunker, he doesn't have much success until he remembers his tablet's clock.
Bunker, outsideHe kneels in the corner, rummaging through his bag. If anyone approaches as he's sorting through all the layers of cloth he's stuffed into it, he'll ask; ] How long was I asleep?
[ It's quickly become clear that something is going on here. He's not sure what, exactly, but seemingly everyone who participated in the seance missing that much missing time can't bode well. After making the rounds and checking with everyone he can safely reach within the bunker, though, nothing immediately jumps out at him as being off, and no one has posted about anything strange happening to the network just yet.
Everywhere. Anywhere.He supposes he could just leave it lie, and wait to see if anything happens. It's possible that would be the smart thing to do, in these circumstances. But there's an impending sense of dread that's eating at him, the unease mounting to physical discomfort, and it's making it difficult to stay still.
After some consideration and checking with others - what supplies they need, anything he should try in the surrounding residences or at the high school - he straps on his snow shoes and steps outside. He isn't sure what he hopes for more - that he'll find something, or that he won't. ]
[ Castiel wakes up, and he isr a d i a n t burning bright as day, bright as sunlight, bright as divinity. Too bright to look at, and then some. The briefest glance in his direction burns his sihouette into one's vision like staring into the sun - a writing mass of feathers and flames, punctuated with constellations of yet-brighter dots. His eyes. Dozens of them, hundreds, maybe, and the light that lances from their gaze is enough to blind in an instant. For the first time in months he can see again, no longer limited by the constraints of a human skull with its two dull, forward-facing eyes. He can stretch and unfurl and be free of the confines of that tiny, fragile form. He feels powerful.
He feels empty. Achingly so, like lungs deprived of air. He wants to breathe in, swallow up everything around him to fuel his incandescence. ]
Oh. I was right. [ His voice echoes and whispers, completely unrecognizable when compared to how he sounds when speaking through James Novak's vocal cords. He turns his too-bright gaze on the nearest person, not yet aware of how painful it may be. ] We are anomalies again.