because I said I was gonna poke your other Cas with my other Claire. :3amisavedApril 13 2012, 00:17:33 UTC
[Returning to the dorm from a long day of classes, Claire just can't wait to grab a nap. She's glad to note her roommate wasn't around, and she quickly set her books down, toeing off her shoes before turning to the bed.
Imagine her shock when she sees it's already occupied. There's a man in a trench coat lying there. Blinking, she walks over and pokes his arm.]
Uh, hey. I don't know how you got in here but you probably shouldn't be here.
Ahahaha yes! c: sorry for delay, it's been a crazy weekend...onparkbenchesApril 14 2012, 21:08:34 UTC
[He hadn't meant for this to happen. In fact, Castiel isn't exactly sure how it had happened; he doesn't usually need to sleep, doesn't usually even feel particularly tired, for that matter... But it seems his fruitless search for his Father has taken more out of him than he'd anticipated.
Hence the trench coat-clad holy tax accountant flopped in your bed, Claire.
His eyes slit open immediately at the contact to his arm, though they're perhaps a bit less intense and more bleary than usual. He blinks up at the girl once, twice, and attempts to vanish, disappear...
Only his wings are so heavy and exhausted that It doesn't work, and so he can only furrow his brow and attempt to push himself into a seated position.]
My apologies. I don't-- I'll just... Go.
[He shifts to swing his legs over the side of the bed, but his actions are slow and stiff. This is not a good day to be Castiel.]
[Having seen enough people teleport enough to see their facial expressions while they're doing it, Claire can't help but think this guy might be trying that, but... he's still in her bed, so maybe not.
It's pretty obvious from looking at him that he's dead tired, and she frowns at him, concerned.]
Um, it's alright. Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help you?
[Trying, and failing. Miserably, seeing as he's still here.
He frowns back, but it's a tired kind of frown and lacking in any hostility.]
I doubt it. I should leave.
['Should' being the operative word there. His wings remain obstinately folded against his back despite his best efforts to get them to move, pick him up and carry him away. He supposes this means he's going to have to... Walk.
Sliding forward, he plants his feet on solid ground and pushes up, swaying slightly as he moves to grab at the edge of a nearby desk. This is proving to be more difficult that it should be; he's not accustomed to fatigue and he scowls at the idea of not being able to come and go immediately as he pleases.]
[Her hands twist nervously as she watches him get up, quickly leaning forward as he sways. She's trying her best to help keep him upright, which is pretty laughable since he's got almost a foot on her.
The look on her face is slightly worried, but mostly stern. Her instincts are kicking in, and she can't let this guy go with a clear conscience.]
You can hardly stand... I don't think walking is a good idea. C'mon, crash in my bed for a few hours, maybe it'll help set you right.
[He sways again and is forced to concede defeat, settling himself at the end of the bed again. This is not conducive at all to his extremely important task, but... He supposes it can't be helped. He's not going to get far like this, and if he were to be ambushed...
Perhaps it's best he just lie low for a while.
...Even if he has no idea where he is or who this young woman might be. He's certain he's never seen her before...]
Maybe just for a little while.
[This is the part where a normal person might initiate introductions. Unfortunately (and probably awkwardly, for Claire), Castiel isn't a normal person and so no such thought occurs to him. He leans forward slightly, rests his hands on his thighs. He's so tired...]
Sure.... go on and get comfortable, I'll just work on some homework at my desk.
[Despite wanting a 'normal life' so badly, Claire isn't exactly normal. She's also far more concerned with his well-being than his name, so she focuses on making sure he's in the bed and isn't gonna fall over or something.
Smiling warmly, she rests a hand on his shoulder.] You hungry or anything? Thirsty? Or just tired...?
[It's definitely her uncle Peter's influence that has her acting this way. And her mom's. But he seems so tired, so exhausted; she can't imagine what he must've been doing to make him so weary. She won't ask, though. It isn't really any of her business. He doesn't seem like a bad guy, doesn't seem dangerous, so she's going with her instincts and trying to help.]
good god I am so sorry for the slowness, muses are being dicks and I'm sick and school kaljdflja ughonparkbenchesApril 22 2012, 19:50:42 UTC
It shouldn't take me very long to recuperate.
[He doesn't lie back down, but he does relax visibly, back going slightly less rigid and he leans forward and rests his hands on this thighs.]
I just need to rest.
[His vessel feels heavy, but he's accustomed to that. What he isn't so accustomed to is the way his grace feels sluggish, aches like a sore muscle. That isn't supposed to happen. Letting his eyes close briefly, he concentrates, trying to will himself to recover more quickly, to be rested enough to return to his search. He doesn't have time for this, can't afford to be wasting time. Not with Lucifer walking the earth and Heaven mercilessly hunting the Winchesters.]
Martha was tired. So tired. The world was safe... again... The Doctor was back in his TARDIS. Jack back at Torchwood. Other companions busy doing their thing. Her folks safe. Now she just wanted to sleep.
The young woman trudged up the stairs to her small flat. Once inside, she made her way to her room barely noticing the door was closed. She did notice the person lying in her bed. "Sorry, wrong room," she whispered as she backed out and closed it.
Then her brain began working. There was someone sleeping in her room. In her bed!. She opened the door again and made her way carefully to the bed. A man... older than her. He looked awful. She reached out to wake him but decided against it. She didn't exactly have a weapon with her and the perception filter was in the other room
( ... )
works for me c: sorry for delay, school is kicking my sorry assonparkbenchesApril 16 2012, 22:54:47 UTC
Castiel snuffles. Actually snuffles and rearranges himself on the bed- Martha's bed as he rolls onto his side and clutches the comforter to his chest and buries his face in the pillow. He's still fully clothed, still has his shoes on, even, though they're hanging off the side of the bed as if he'd just collapsed there and passed out.
Which he had. Who knew finding God would be so exhausting?
He's blissfully unaware of Martha rifling through his things- which he must have tugged out of his pocket and set in the nightstand to keep it from pressing into his side as he'd flopped on the bed... No, for right now, Castiel is more than content to doze. He's just fortunate enough that he hadn't touched down in a demon nest; that's been his luck, lately.
No worries. School is supposed to kick your ass.notrosesshadowApril 17 2012, 03:17:46 UTC
Martha started when the man moved. Finally, she couldn't see any other choice other than waking him. To be safe, she stayed near the door... with a lamp in her hand.
"Um... sir... Sir? Jimmy? You need to wake up," she tried.
It's certainly doing its job, man. gold star ass kicking hahahaonparkbenchesApril 19 2012, 14:17:25 UTC
There's a noise at the back of Castiel's throat that definitely qualifies as a groan, and he shifts, blinking an eye open and settling his bleary gaze on the young woman standing in the doorframe and clutching... A lamp? "Nngh--" he starts slowly, blinking to clear the sleep- since when did he sleep?- from his eyes, "Not Jimmy."
He coughs lightly to clear his throat and tries again, "I'm Castiel."
As if that completely explains the situation. He's tired, no doubt, but he's slowly becoming aware of his surroundings, which he doesn't recognize, and so he pushes himself up, keeping that intense blue gaze locked on Martha's face. Wary, even though he's the one that's out of place here.
Her lips form a line as she takes in this new information. Because he definitely looks like the man on the Driver License. Deciding not to argue with the unknown man in her room, she begins again. Carefully.
"OK. Castiel. Why, or how... no actually both... How did you get in here and why are you sleeping in my bed?"
She's not mad perse... more extremely worried and she had so been looking forward to sleep. He looks like hell though and she's going to have to check him over before she kicks him out of the house and goes to sleep herself. And oh if only the Cybermen had come tomorrow instead of today.
Hmm. Perhaps he should have just gone along with 'Jimmy'. Less explanation, more rest that way... But it's too late now, he supposes. Fortunately for Castiel, the young woman doesn't seem to want to press the issue.
"I--" His brows draw together as he tries to remember. What had he been doing? He'd been looking for his Father, certainly, that's what he's alwaysdoing... But where? "I'm not sure," he finishes lamely.
"I can't remember."
There's a fleeting thought that perhaps Dean would know... But it's been several days since the last time they'd been in contact, and frankly, he doesn't think he wants to deal with a lecture- or a crack- about how waking up with no idea how you've found yourself in a strange place means you've had a really good night. He's not in the mood for that, thank you very much.
And so he's just gonna sit here, brow creased, and try to remember. In someone else's bed. Etiquette? What's that?
Martha sighed. This was going nowhere. "Stay there," she ordered leaving the room for a second to grab her medical kit. The stranger seems much to out of it to be a danger, but she grabs her perception filter as well just in case she needs to hide.
"So you have no memory of how you got here or why you're so tired?" she replies as she comes back in. Tired enough that she was starting to get short she continued, "Are you planning on killing me? Or anything else untoward? Or can I examine you?" The questions weren't totally serious. She suspected he'd be taken aback anyway that he'd answer truthfully.
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Imagine her shock when she sees it's already occupied. There's a man in a trench coat lying there. Blinking, she walks over and pokes his arm.]
Uh, hey. I don't know how you got in here but you probably shouldn't be here.
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Hence the trench coat-clad holy tax accountant flopped in your bed, Claire.
His eyes slit open immediately at the contact to his arm, though they're perhaps a bit less intense and more bleary than usual. He blinks up at the girl once, twice, and attempts to vanish, disappear...
Only his wings are so heavy and exhausted that It doesn't work, and so he can only furrow his brow and attempt to push himself into a seated position.]
My apologies. I don't-- I'll just... Go.
[He shifts to swing his legs over the side of the bed, but his actions are slow and stiff. This is not a good day to be Castiel.]
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It's pretty obvious from looking at him that he's dead tired, and she frowns at him, concerned.]
Um, it's alright. Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help you?
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He frowns back, but it's a tired kind of frown and lacking in any hostility.]
I doubt it. I should leave.
['Should' being the operative word there. His wings remain obstinately folded against his back despite his best efforts to get them to move, pick him up and carry him away. He supposes this means he's going to have to... Walk.
Sliding forward, he plants his feet on solid ground and pushes up, swaying slightly as he moves to grab at the edge of a nearby desk. This is proving to be more difficult that it should be; he's not accustomed to fatigue and he scowls at the idea of not being able to come and go immediately as he pleases.]
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The look on her face is slightly worried, but mostly stern. Her instincts are kicking in, and she can't let this guy go with a clear conscience.]
You can hardly stand... I don't think walking is a good idea. C'mon, crash in my bed for a few hours, maybe it'll help set you right.
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[He sways again and is forced to concede defeat, settling himself at the end of the bed again. This is not conducive at all to his extremely important task, but... He supposes it can't be helped. He's not going to get far like this, and if he were to be ambushed...
Perhaps it's best he just lie low for a while.
...Even if he has no idea where he is or who this young woman might be. He's certain he's never seen her before...]
Maybe just for a little while.
[This is the part where a normal person might initiate introductions. Unfortunately (and probably awkwardly, for Claire), Castiel isn't a normal person and so no such thought occurs to him. He leans forward slightly, rests his hands on his thighs. He's so tired...]
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[Despite wanting a 'normal life' so badly, Claire isn't exactly normal. She's also far more concerned with his well-being than his name, so she focuses on making sure he's in the bed and isn't gonna fall over or something.
Smiling warmly, she rests a hand on his shoulder.] You hungry or anything? Thirsty? Or just tired...?
[It's definitely her uncle Peter's influence that has her acting this way. And her mom's. But he seems so tired, so exhausted; she can't imagine what he must've been doing to make him so weary. She won't ask, though. It isn't really any of her business. He doesn't seem like a bad guy, doesn't seem dangerous, so she's going with her instincts and trying to help.]
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[He doesn't lie back down, but he does relax visibly, back going slightly less rigid and he leans forward and rests his hands on this thighs.]
I just need to rest.
[His vessel feels heavy, but he's accustomed to that. What he isn't so accustomed to is the way his grace feels sluggish, aches like a sore muscle. That isn't supposed to happen. Letting his eyes close briefly, he concentrates, trying to will himself to recover more quickly, to be rested enough to return to his search. He doesn't have time for this, can't afford to be wasting time. Not with Lucifer walking the earth and Heaven mercilessly hunting the Winchesters.]
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The young woman trudged up the stairs to her small flat. Once inside, she made her way to her room barely noticing the door was closed. She did notice the person lying in her bed. "Sorry, wrong room," she whispered as she backed out and closed it.
Then her brain began working. There was someone sleeping in her room. In her bed!. She opened the door again and made her way carefully to the bed. A man... older than her. He looked awful. She reached out to wake him but decided against it. She didn't exactly have a weapon with her and the perception filter was in the other room ( ... )
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Which he had. Who knew finding God would be so exhausting?
He's blissfully unaware of Martha rifling through his things- which he must have tugged out of his pocket and set in the nightstand to keep it from pressing into his side as he'd flopped on the bed... No, for right now, Castiel is more than content to doze. He's just fortunate enough that he hadn't touched down in a demon nest; that's been his luck, lately.
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"Um... sir... Sir? Jimmy? You need to wake up," she tried.
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He coughs lightly to clear his throat and tries again, "I'm Castiel."
As if that completely explains the situation. He's tired, no doubt, but he's slowly becoming aware of his surroundings, which he doesn't recognize, and so he pushes himself up, keeping that intense blue gaze locked on Martha's face. Wary, even though he's the one that's out of place here.
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"OK. Castiel. Why, or how... no actually both... How did you get in here and why are you sleeping in my bed?"
She's not mad perse... more extremely worried and she had so been looking forward to sleep. He looks like hell though and she's going to have to check him over before she kicks him out of the house and goes to sleep herself. And oh if only the Cybermen had come tomorrow instead of today.
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"I--" His brows draw together as he tries to remember. What had he been doing? He'd been looking for his Father, certainly, that's what he's alwaysdoing... But where? "I'm not sure," he finishes lamely.
"I can't remember."
There's a fleeting thought that perhaps Dean would know... But it's been several days since the last time they'd been in contact, and frankly, he doesn't think he wants to deal with a lecture- or a crack- about how waking up with no idea how you've found yourself in a strange place means you've had a really good night. He's not in the mood for that, thank you very much.
And so he's just gonna sit here, brow creased, and try to remember. In someone else's bed. Etiquette? What's that?
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"So you have no memory of how you got here or why you're so tired?" she replies as she comes back in. Tired enough that she was starting to get short she continued, "Are you planning on killing me? Or anything else untoward? Or can I examine you?" The questions weren't totally serious. She suspected he'd be taken aback anyway that he'd answer truthfully.
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