Seven? Could be interesting. Senses, limbs, whatever. Or not, if you prefer something else. No pref.hunting_tripMarch 23 2012, 12:04:42 UTC
[Dean wasn't worried.
Sure, so it's been months since he's heard from Cas, and he's been praying his ass off. Sure, he dropped off the face of the earth with his ominous little speech about getting heaven back in order after the apocalypse. Sure, he's been struggling with this crap life alone and without Sam, and begging for a little heavenly intervention without any response whatsoever.
That doesn't mean he's worried or anything. Cas is probably just... busy. You know. Being a dick somewhere up in heaven, ignoring phone calls like Dean's his crabby old granddad in a retirement home. Probably not dead or getting his ass kicked all over the place by pissed off Michael followers. That's... Probably definitely not what happened at all, and Dean needs to stop worrying about it. He's probably never gonna see the guy again- more important things to do now than hang out with the mudmonkeys
( ... )
sounds good! how about... Combination of limbs and senses?onparkbenchesMarch 23 2012, 17:26:08 UTC
[That "Someone" is currently sitting on Lisa's living room couch, and he looks up at the sound of Dean's footsteps.]
Hello, Dean.
[About the door... He'd miscalculated, apparently, when he'd descended to Earth, appearing somewhere outside of the house rather than in the kitchen as had been his intention. He hadn't quite had the excess power to mojo himself inside, and so he'd had to resort to other, less elegant methods of letting himself in
( ... )
Poor Cas and his whump.hunting_tripMarch 23 2012, 18:59:30 UTC
[The greeting freezes him just inside the entrance-way, feet planted on the rug covering an spray-painted devil's trap. Obviously he's no demon, but just the same, he can't seem to make his legs move at first.
He's pretty sure that's blood smudged on the floors he just mopped yesterday, and damn if he hasn't been out of the game so long that that's the first thought that pops into his head. He's incredulous enough at himself, though, that it kicks him back into gear, and he's striding across the wood and into the living room a second later.]
Hello, Dean? I've been calling you for months, and you--
[The flick of a light-switch and Cas's protective shadow is gone. So are Dean's motor skills.
Because where the fuck is the rest of his arm? On the list of things he never expected to see, this was so surreal it wasn't even on there. He's pretty sure Jimmy didn't sign up for that kind of treatment and shit he's an angel, why can't he grow it back take up the majority of his thought processes for a moment.]Cas- what the hell happened to
( ... )
Lmao I picture him sitting there like :| with no armonparkbenchesMarch 23 2012, 19:18:37 UTC
[No mopping will be necessary; just as soon as Castiel's able, he'll take care of it. It'll be like he was never here.
Almost. He doesn't suppose Dean will likely forget this visit any time soon.
And Dean's angry, of course he is... Castiel has been ignoring his call, and for good reason. He almost regrets being here now... If he'd had more time to think, he'd have come up with somewhere else, but this had been the first and safest place that had come to mind.
He opens his eyes and inclines his head in Dean's general direction, not quite facing him just yet... Both because he knows he can't tell Dean the whole truth, and because his left eye is clouded and sightless, at least for the time being.]
Angels.
[It's not a lie- he'd been caught unawares by his brothers, and though he'd obviously defeated them- he wouldn't be sitting here, otherwise- it hadn't been without injury.]
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Sure, so it's been months since he's heard from Cas, and he's been praying his ass off. Sure, he dropped off the face of the earth with his ominous little speech about getting heaven back in order after the apocalypse. Sure, he's been struggling with this crap life alone and without Sam, and begging for a little heavenly intervention without any response whatsoever.
That doesn't mean he's worried or anything. Cas is probably just... busy. You know. Being a dick somewhere up in heaven, ignoring phone calls like Dean's his crabby old granddad in a retirement home. Probably not dead or getting his ass kicked all over the place by pissed off Michael followers. That's... Probably definitely not what happened at all, and Dean needs to stop worrying about it. He's probably never gonna see the guy again- more important things to do now than hang out with the mudmonkeys ( ... )
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Hello, Dean.
[About the door... He'd miscalculated, apparently, when he'd descended to Earth, appearing somewhere outside of the house rather than in the kitchen as had been his intention. He hadn't quite had the excess power to mojo himself inside, and so he'd had to resort to other, less elegant methods of letting himself in ( ... )
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He's pretty sure that's blood smudged on the floors he just mopped yesterday, and damn if he hasn't been out of the game so long that that's the first thought that pops into his head. He's incredulous enough at himself, though, that it kicks him back into gear, and he's striding across the wood and into the living room a second later.]
Hello, Dean? I've been calling you for months, and you--
[The flick of a light-switch and Cas's protective shadow is gone. So are Dean's motor skills.
Because where the fuck is the rest of his arm? On the list of things he never expected to see, this was so surreal it wasn't even on there. He's pretty sure Jimmy didn't sign up for that kind of treatment and shit he's an angel, why can't he grow it back take up the majority of his thought processes for a moment.]Cas- what the hell happened to ( ... )
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Almost. He doesn't suppose Dean will likely forget this visit any time soon.
And Dean's angry, of course he is... Castiel has been ignoring his call, and for good reason. He almost regrets being here now... If he'd had more time to think, he'd have come up with somewhere else, but this had been the first and safest place that had come to mind.
He opens his eyes and inclines his head in Dean's general direction, not quite facing him just yet... Both because he knows he can't tell Dean the whole truth, and because his left eye is clouded and sightless, at least for the time being.]
Angels.
[It's not a lie- he'd been caught unawares by his brothers, and though he'd obviously defeated them- he wouldn't be sitting here, otherwise- it hadn't been without injury.]
I'll recover with time.
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