villagelogs | 021-023 » the ghosts of fallen leaves

021-023 » the ghosts of fallen leaves

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: Eastern/Central/Western Mathias.
WHEN: Days 021-023
WHAT: A cold storm approaches.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. PM this account to have a warning added!
NOTES: Plotting post over here!

RECOMMENDED ♫ Emily Kinney & Lauren Cohan "The Parting Glass"

DAYS 021-023
THE WORLD TURNS WHITE
“Are ye the ghosts of fallen leaves, O flakes of snow,
For which, through naked trees, the winds A-mourning go?”
— John Banister Tabb
The howling wind is what wakes the residents of Mathias each day now as the world turns slowly into a bleak stretch of white. Snow continues to fall in thick curtains of flakes that accumulate on trees and rooftops, swirling sideways in the gusts of wind that bow trees and whistle through any crack they can find. The drifts of snow grow taller against the buildings and the wind makes the already freezing temperatures feel bitterly cold.

By day 022, the far ends of streets begin to resemble the hazardous fog with how little becomes visible as the winds pick up. Buildings can still be discerned as dark shapes but the weather's warning becomes clear — a storm is coming. And by day 023, the storm arrives properly, the wind still screaming through the streets like a winter banshee announcing so many deaths to come. These conditions are far from hospitable and only the truly mad would be foolish enough to venture outside in weather such as this.

THE NEWLY ARRIVED
With an embrace of wintery white, Mathias offers a chilly welcome to its newest residents. They awake along the southern treeline bordering Mathias, near the small makeshift cemetery containing a handful of wooden markers erected without names or signifiers of those buried within. And not far from them is the schoolhouse, where in a snowdrift they will the frozen corpse of a young woman named Rey.

LIGHTS IN THE DARKNESS
“A lantern can give you light only when you light it”
— Munia Khan
When residents wake on the morning of day 021, they will find outside in the snow the abandoned lanterns of those shadowy spectres who have moved so silently through Mathias. Each nestled in a patch of frozen white outside their door, the lanterns are now cold to the touch, the half-burned candle within each one seeming to have been lit so very long ago. Inside the glass encasement is a small rolled piece of paper, upon which is written:

keep it lit
There is nothing more, and the prior owners of these lanterns will not return within these days.

There is one lantern waiting outside the building for each resident wherever they are sleeping — the exception for this is those who may have already claimed a lantern as their own. Removing a lantern from its resting place results in no apparent reaction, nor does lighting or not lighting it. However, whatever residents ultimately choose to do with these lanterns should be reported.

CONDITIONS UPDATE

— SNOW continues to fall, resulting over the three days in upwards of a foot of accumulation. The winds blow in gusts over 35 mph.

— VOICES are not openly haunting our residents, though they may still be occasionally encountered in the more heavily decayed buildings where some rooms seem to almost swallow whatever light tries to enter them.

— THE FOG has still receded from the town proper and much of the eastern and northern beach, with the path through the northern forest to the lighthouse still clear on day 021. On day 022, however, as the storm worsens, the fog returns to the paths in the forest, urging residents to stay huddled within the town proper or else.

— DISAPPEARANCES continue to plague the town. While Zed Martin has returned, Rey's corpse will be found in a snowdrift near the Schoolhouse; she disappeared on day 018.

— THE STRANGER is gone.

— THE SPECTRES are gone.

OOC UPDATES

— DISCOVERIES have been collected and collated for your review. Please note that this is OOC information only, put together for the purpose of helping you as players see connections and possibilities for CR and your own character's potential avenues of exploration and investigation. (If we are missing something, please report it so we can add it to the list.)

— AP REWARDS have a new option now — Ideas may be requested if you find yourself stuck. You may now claim up to 2 rewards per log: (1) idea and (1) other reward.

— SANITY may be regained in two ways: self-medication and treatment. In Mathias, this means such coping mechanisms as drinking or drugging oneself into a stupor that allows them to face their fears and issues, or talking to someone about those fears and issues. Since both of these will take some time, best get started. (A form will be added to the Sanity page.)

— REMINDERS — Don't forget about the bulletin board. Please continue reporting your updates to locations, plots, and discoveries. The map of Mathias has been added to the locations page for ease of reference. Make sure your character's sanity level is kept updated. Prospective players are still joining the TDM, so it's recommended to track new top-levels so you don't miss them.

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Angel's first moonshine.

( You never forget your first.

Cas dives in again, being brave. No, Cas, you won't grow used to it in your first few sips. It's going to take a few days to retrain the taste buds you barely used.

What is he - what?

An experience you need - assistance with?

( Is this an aiming thing? Is it necessarily something he wants to hear about? He looks back toward the second floor bathroom. Is it like a crime scene in there?

What he doesn't say is that he's discussed Cas. He and Neal, of all people. It helped that Neal was a stranger. He better not make it weird the next time Dean sees him. )

Angel's last moonshine, probably.

[He's particularly proud of that witty reply, as can be seen in the way the corners of his mouth quirk upwards. He keeps sipping at the drink, but the bitterness really is something else. And the fact that he can distinguish the flavors of this drink is another sure sign of how much he's changed since arriving here in Mathias.

At the way Dean looks back towards the bathroom door, Cas sighs, rubbing a hand over the bottom half of his face as he realizes he is going to have to provide context to put Dean at ease.]

I...tripped in the shower.

[He's especially ashamed of this, as a being whose coordination is usually vastly superior to that of humans. But the soap he used proved especially slippery, and, before Castiel could think better of it, he nearly ended up 'ass over tea kettle,' as the human saying goes.

He tries to turn it into a joke, tries to keep the mood between the two of them light; he shrugs, takes another sip of moonshine, and gives Dean a look indicating 'better luck next time, hopefully.']

I suppose I might require supervision in the most basic of human tasks.

There's prison wine under the sink.

( He gives no other explanation. No explanation that it was not fermented inside a toilet, but five storage-sized ziplock bags. He just proudly and foggily grins as Cas sets the glass aside to get to work with helping.

Dean's smile falters. It's not simply a joke on aiming, it's a full on death-trap situation and Dean sets the shirt down before he can pull it onto a hanger. He's around his bed in seconds, seeing if there's any bruise, a limp he missed, any split open eyes.

But, Cas is taking it well enough. Dean still gets into his personal space. )

You just have to be careful, Cas. Showering's a dangerous thing. ( All kinds of showering. Even showering with someone. Which - is where his mind goes and doesn't quite know why. Showering is a solo effort most days. At least, for him. And definitely separate from Cas.

His conversation with Neal isn't fresh in his mind as much as it comes back up again. Particularly, "Get drunk and say what you have to say." Or, this is how Dean interpreted it, anyway.

He realizes just how physically close to Cas he is now and he steps back, having done his erm, inspection. )

Try ... take it slowly. We don't want angel's last moonshine to turn into angel takes the wrong step and flies down the stairs.

Prison wine? How did you...do I want to know how you obtained prison wine here?

[Castiel tilts his head, considering Dean. He knows Dean is quite resourceful when it comes to alcohol; he's sure he found a way for both the prison wine and the moonshine. He still worries about the state of his liver; if anything happens, Castiel can't be sure he'll be able to heal it.

Suddenly, Dean is around the bed, and, for once, the one in Castiel's personal space, looking him over with concern. Castiel feels a sudden warmth from Dean's proximity; he actually feels his heart tighten and the lungs of his human body constrict, and his own eyes are watching Dean with his own concern.]

I'm alright, Dean. I healed the bruise I wound up with; it's fine.

[Of course, what he doesn't tell Dean, he had to rest after healing himself; the simple act of healing a bruise required a two hour nap for Castiel to recover.

When Dean steps back, Castiel has to actively remind himself not to step forward, not to follow him and seek that closeness out, even as much as that particular night, the last night he saw Dean alive, lingers in his thoughts.

He offers Dean a warm smile. He hesitates, but he decides to reach out; Dean looks like he could use physical reassurance as well as verbal. Without thinking, he places his hand on the same shoulder he once left his mark on Dean, the same shoulder he last touched Dean before The Empty took him.]

I promise, Dean. I'll be careful. You don't have to worry about me drinking this stuff too fast, I assure you.

I made it.

( Dean's resourcefulness knows no bounds. )

It's - ( He needs to be careful. He needs to be fine. They don't know how much angel juice Cas really has. Healing himself once after a fall in the shower. Was he home? Did he miss this? Does Claire know? )

Then I won't.

( No, there is no not worrying then it comes to Dean. Not now, not ever. Even though he'll say there won't be. What worrying?

He, too thinks back. He can imagine it happening all over again. "I love you, Dean." And then pushing him back out of the way. His goodbye. He's locked there, in place, the alcohol not doing him any more help. )

Cas.

Did you? I suppose I can't say I'm surprised. You've always been quite clever and resourceful, much more than anyone usually gives you credit for. [Castiel knows he isn't exactly an unbiased source in this regard, but that doesn't make his statement any less true. He's always admired Dean's ability to create out of limited resources at hand, a valuable and important skill for anyone to have.

Dean says he won't worry, but Castiel can only watch him, growing increasingly concerned as he does so. He knows Dean; Dean is a worrier by nature, and, in turn, Castiel worries for him. Between Dean and Claire, Castiel suspects he has quite a bit to worry about.

Dean utters his name like that, and, suddenly, Castiel is transfixed, staring at him in turn, and, finally, realizing just where it is he's placed his hand. He doesn't move it, though. Instead, he squeezes Dean's shoulder, trying to assure him.]

Dean. I don't know if you feel up for it, but we...should talk about that night. What happened.

[He's not going to tell Dean what happens after that, not if he can help it. He doesn't want Dean to know of his own death back home if possible.]

Is that your way of saying I'm not as dumb as look?

( Prison wine isn't difficult to make if you have the means, the time, and the receptacles. He knows Cas is trying to give a compliment, but he jumps to the self deprecating. He always does.

Dean scans and searches Castiel, but when Cas puts a hand on Dean, it feels different. The way he looks at him and the way he remembers how he's looked at him. He remembers that night. He remembers Billie pounding on the door, the sigil bleeding free. He remembers what Cas said. What Cas thinks.

How Cas feels. )

What about it.

Dean, you don't look dumb at all. [Castiel gives him a look, a mixture of fondness and exasperation, one that he's come to reserve just for the eldest Winchester, in particular. It is, in fact, impressive how quickly Dean can turn an intended compliment into self-deprecation. It is also, Castiel thinks, a skillset that makes Castiel especially sad for Dean.

Knowing Dean, Castiel knows that he's not entirely sober right now. Which isn't exactly the greatest timing for this particular conversation, but Castiel feels like it really ought to be broached sooner rather than later, before the weight of it all starts festering like an infected wound.

Still, it doesn't make Castiel any less nervous; he sighs, keeping his gaze as focused on Dean as he can. He can't stop thinking about the guilt he feels, the way he can guess as to how traumatic his departure was for Dean. That he also knows what waits for Dean in the future also churns in his stomach; he can practically taste it in the back of his throat.]

I know I put a lot on you, telling you how I feel before the Empty took me. I don't regret telling you how I feel, nor do I regret saving you; I meant what I said. Happiness is in just being, and I would save you again without regret. But I do regret leaving you like that. I wish I could have found a way to protect you from that, even from the Empty.

( To borrow another nation's saying, Dean is simply taking the piss. He knows how smart he is. He knows what he's accomplished and what he could've accomplished had he gone to school. School wasn't his path. That wasn't meant for him. He knows that. Or, he lets himself believe it. It's easier than think of the road you didn't take. You only get so far down the Bible is real and God wrote everything for you road before you let other things go, like dreams or clarity.

Dean's conversation with Neal is now right there on the other side of this, plainly flashing in my mind. How does Dean feel? Why should he get to? Where has hope ever gotten him.

And attached to those questions, Cas' words echo. He's not as inebriated as he's portraying himself to be. He can still hold his liquor. Except, for when he'd almost fallen asleep in the snowbank. Bright had assisted him and taken him back. Then he'd shrunk him. )

You don't regret it but you wish you could have protected me from it. You're the one who said it. You said it and all I could do was, stand there and take it. Is that what you wanted, Cas. To leave it with me? Let me carry that for who knows how long before I burned out from all the love I feel for everyone? Your greatest happiness was telling me you loved me. Love. I'm happy Billie didn't get to slice and dice or crush my heart, but -- you were happiest when you were expressing yourself? Who are you, Madonna? You were right there. Right there. For who knows how long, Cas. I didn't even know you could feel those things.

( He believed his affinity for Jack was Cas' extent. )

And then you're standing there crying in front of me. How am I supposed to take it. You saved me. You saved me and you left me. And you love me. You shouldn't love me, Cas.

( Why do you love him? He's gone through it before. Nobody should love him. )

[Castiel listens as Dean says his piece; he listens, and he watches, feeling both guilty and relieved at once, a truly odd and difficult combination to navigate as Dean tells him how he feels. But he doesn't interrupt him; he knows he owes Dean that much, at least.

He knows Dean is upset; he hears it in his words and sees it in the way Dean regards him. And he thinks he mostly understands why; Castiel told him his truth and then he died right in front of him. But Castiel also finds himself confused; he doesn't know what Dean is trying to say by saying things such as 'you were right there' and 'I didn't know you could feel those things.' Those particular phrases jump out at him, curl like twines of ivy around the flickers of hope he carries with him, even as much as he tries not to.

He can feel his own facial expression as it reflects each and every one of his own conflicted thoughts.]

Dean, I know it's difficult to believe, but I never meant to hurt you. I didn't know how else to save you except by making the choice that I did. You deserve to know that someone loves you. You deserve to know that you are worthy of being loved. And you are, Dean. You tell me I shouldn't love you, and I say that I should. And I do, Dean. I will always love you, no matter what happens.

You are the most important and central being in my life, Dean. I didn't know how to care until you taught me to. Until you showed me that there's always another way; we don't have to accept our fate, we can reject destiny and forge our own paths.

[And Castiel can feel tears again at the edge of his vision, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care that he's crying; he needs Dean to hear him, he needs Dean to understand.]

Dean, I know that I can't have you the way I most want you. But nothing you can say or do will ever stop me from loving you.

( He's scared. That's how he suddenly feels as a shudder moves through him, as the weight of what Cas imparts lands. )

You - keep saying that. In every reality. It's like the definition of insanity, right? Waiting for a different result? You can't have me the way you most want me. You, yourself, decided this. You didn't ask me. You just told me. And yeah, Cas, you got sucked into a fate worse than death. Lucifer himself is paling around in the Empty.

( That's right, Cas gets to spend eternity with Meg-goop. )

How do you want me. If it wasn't your sole, stubborn decision. Why tell me if you made up your mind.

[Castiel stares at Dean, his throat suddenly dry. He blinks, and, internally, he is trying to process the words Dean is saying, as though his ears are hearing them but his mind isn't actually fully understanding him. He sees Dean shudder, and he wants nothing more than to go to him, pull him in, and hold him close.]

I - but. I...Dean, you. You can't feel the same way. I'm like a brother to you.

[Castiel says, and even as he says it, he realizes how weak it sounds. But he does recognize that Dean is especially right in one regard: Castiel did make the decision; he told his truth, and he didn't even give Dean time to respond, let alone process what he's been told, before the Empty claimed him.

He's grateful he really doesn't remember much from his latest round in the Empty; Jack pulled him out not long after the Empty took him. Of course, time always moves differently in other realms, so Castiel cannot be certain exactly just how much time passed.

At Dean's next questions, Castiel has to take a shuddering breath himself before he responds.]

I want you romantically, Dean. I told you because I wanted you to know that someone wants you, loves you. I don't expect you to feel the same way, although I suppose...

[He sighs, rubs a hand across the bottom half of his face.] If we're being honest, I suppose part of me told you because part of me still wants to hope I have a chance with you.

( Like a brother to him. Yeah, maybe, maybe in how he'd do anything and everything, would go to the ends of the earth for him. To hell and back. He would do that for his own brother. But, it is not the same. It would never be the same. And this isn't about Cas not being family. There is something else, something undefined he's never confronted, never even said out loud.

He supposes. He supposes he hopes. Does he hope or doesn't he? Does he understand or doesn't he? There is the absolute. He loves Dean. Dean Winchester deserves to be loved. Dean Winchester loves

But not like that. Not Castiel.

Dean still can't say it, still can't form words in response. Not how he should. Not how Cas deserves.

He wants to ask, how long. How long has Cas felt like this. But, he explained that. Cas learned how to feel, how to love from Dean. He knows how long he and Cas, how long ago Cas had rebelled. )

Cas. You're not. ( His head tilts, his hand coming to Cas' arm. His head swims, the moonshine fueling his words, pushing them out from his inner thoughts, thoughts he doesn't usually speak. Thoughts he barely shared with Neal. ) Not. Sam. You're not my brother. You're not Adam. You're more. I'm more. Aren't we -- more? We are.

( They're being raised from perdition, rebellion, purgatory, failed first time with a prostitute, Doc Holliday accents, surprise lab coats, fighting when Cas isn't the being that makes Dean happiest.

It's the alcohol. It's the alcohol, it's the speech, it's Neal's voice deep deep in the back of his mind, with a little Bright mixed in for maximum annoyance, and Sam looking on and asking him what's different or what's wrong. Or jokes, always with the jokes.

And Sam's not here. Cas is here. Cas is here. Chuck is toast and Dean propels forward hand moving from his arm to the back of Cas' head. Maybe he'll regret this. Maybe he won't remember this. But, eh crashes their lips together, because that's what Cas wants, isn't it? Why can't he give Cas what he wants? When did Cas get to be the one to decide? It's not fair. Dean is in control, and does the deciding for both of them. The heat from his mouth, the tingle from the moonshine only pushes his tongue forward, deepening the kiss without thinking.

It's been a long time since he'd done this with anyone. Too long. He can't stop himself.

Can't stop, won't stop. Just call him Miley Cyrus.

Shut up. )

Edited 2021-01-04 03:46 (UTC)

[Dean reaches out for his arm, and the contact between them at that particular point sends sparks shooting right through him, bursts of light and fire that have no connection to either Heaven or Hell, only Dean and the feelings he stirs within Castiel, the feelings he's learned ever since he first laid a hand on him all of those years ago.

You're more. I'm more. Aren't we--more? We are.

The words leave Castiel speechless and stunned, his breath catching in his throat as he processes the implications of what Dean's saying. And before he can even reply verbally, Dean's hand is in his hair and he's pressing his lips against Castiel's own mouth.

With a moan borne from years of yearning, Castiel responds; he kisses back ferociously, moving to wrap his arms around Dean's waist and pull him in even closer. As Dean deepens their kissing, Castiel tightens his grip around Dean, nails digging into his sides.]

( They're like two teenagers, Dean drunkenly clinging to the nearest body, but also clinging to Cas. Because it's Cas. It's the angel who freaking loves him. The angel who's kissing back, who's accepting what he's giving, who's not pulling away. Who died, but that didn't stop him.

He tries to free his mind, but it isn't long before he's overthinking, what can this mean, this is Cas. Cas is a dude. No he's not, he's an angel, but he's in a dude.

He breaks the kiss after a while, after who knows how long. )

Uhh. You're a - wouldn't think you'd just be good at that.

( Super, super smooth. His arms come back next as he carefully slides away from those arms that were around him. From not his brother. From something deeper than family. )

[Even Castiel needs to breathe now, he realizes, as Dean pulls away. He's panting for breath as the kiss breaks, wondering where they go from here as he watches Dean in the aftermath of their kissing. Castiel feels as though he's just blown in from a storm, all crackling thunder and vibrant, deadly lightning, the smell of rain singing throughout his Grace and under his skin just from kissing Dean like that.

He feels dizzy but also steadfast, like kissing Dean has helped solidify his own strengths. He feels...miraculous, he realizes. But also as though the both of them are now standing on the very edge of some sort of precipice.]

I'm full of surprises. And, apparently, so are you. I didn't think you'd ever want to kiss me; not like that.

[Castiel notices the way Dean pulls away; it's difficult not to. He aches to reach back out to him; his right hand extends and then furls into a fist at his side, clenching tightly as though it could draw Dean's own hand into it by sheer force of will.]

Well, I did it.

( So there?

Cas wants him closer, but he takes a shaky step back, almost tripping over the corner of the bed, but holding himself upright. )

We should -- ( He tries clearing his throat, peers into the hallway to see if Claire passed by, see if this isn't just between him and Cas. ) -- hang more up. Finish... ( Hanging. ) I know, I know you didn't - think anything, didn't think I'd do it. You made that clear.

[Castiel watches Dean, starts forward, reaching out as he sees Dean almost trip over the corner of his bed. But Dean manages to right himself, and so, Castiel steps back.

He feels like he wants to crawl out of his own skin; he feels like he has so much he wants, needs, to say to Dean, and no idea as to how to put any of it into words.]

Dean.

[His name comes out strangled, a combination of everything Castiel wants to say.]

I'd kiss you again. If you let me.

[He hates how desperate he sounds; he hates how unsteady he feels, seemingly having ventured out onto the shakiest of grounds with that kiss from Dean.]

( As much as Dean might want to kiss Cas again, kiss anyone when kissing shouldn't even be a priority, he doesn't let himself. He doesn't move, can't look Cas in the eye. Cas should kiss someone else. He should love someone else. Dean is the one who dies in the end. Cas has his own second chance, why waste it with Dean Winchester. Why waste it with a wasted heart. )

Cas, I -

( He turns away, head down, fingers running along the fabric of the comforter. )

I can't.

[Cas nods, turning away as he lets his eyes fall closed for a moment. He lets out a long, low breath as he opens his eyes again. He distracts himself by picking up the nearest shirt, folding and unfolding it, telling himself he's just trying to avoid wrinkling it before hanging it up again. He moves on to the next piece of clothing, deliberately methodical in his movements.

Still, he can't help but look back at Dean. If nothing else, Castiel is here. He's going to try and help as best he can, to help them all make it through whatever particular nightmare this Mathias happens to be.]

Dean, do you need anything? Water, perhaps?

[It's the most subtle way Castiel can think of to ask after Dean's drinking.]

( Somehow, Dean's body finds itself lowering and leaning as his lower back touches the end of the bed. He's reached the point where alcohol has overtaken his embarrassment, and he won't accomplish more than he'd planned.

He nods to Cas' question, only because whatever he asked went up in inflection. Sure. Yes.

Technically, he drank for a day straight, begged off and then drank again with Neal and then - yeah, all day today.

When Cas retreats to bring Dean water, he pushes himself fully onto his bed and stretches out, clutching the pillow under his head. By the time Cas returns, he's snoring, well into the next day's hangover. )

[Castiel nods in turn, and makes his way out of the room to fetch that glass of water, his concern obvious in the expression on his face, though he does his best to try and not let it show too much.

Worry gnaws at him the entire time he takes getting that water for Dean; worry for Dean's liver, for Dean's state of mind, and, of course, worry for the inevitable aftermath of their kissing, whenever that happens to be.

By the time he makes his way back to the room, Dean is sprawled out on the bed, snoring. Castiel shakes his head, but he's also glad to see Dean sleeping. He places the water on the table next to the bed, for whenever Dean decides to wake up. He grabs the blanket and tucks it over Dean, hoping it will help and provide comfort in some way.

Carefully, he works on keeping quiet as he continues to gather and organize what remains of the laundry in the room.]

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021-023 » the ghosts of fallen leaves

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