villagelogs | 024-027 » neither reward nor punishment

024-027 » neither reward nor punishment

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: Eastern/Central/Western Mathias + ???
WHEN: Days 024-027
WHAT: The consequences of their actions.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. PM this account to have a warning added!
NOTES: Plotting post over here! The next log will be posted January 23rd.

RECOMMENDED ♫ Deadly Avenger "Onryo" 怨霊

DAYS 024-025
CONSEQUENCES
“There are in nature neither rewards nor punishments —
there are consequences.”
— Robert G. Ingersoll
When the unwilling residents of Mathias Township wake on the morning of the 24th day, they will find themselves in yet another set of frustratingly unnerving circumstances. None of them are where they last remember being, and some of them have strange marks on the palms of their left hands. It's all incredibly unsettling, but truthfully they should be used to it by now. No one will remember traveling to their new location.

Residents can wake up anywhere within their new location and in any position. Curled up in a bed, sprawled on a couch, huddled beneath a coffee table, propped against a wall... Wherever they are, they will themselves to be in quite an unusual state. While they are wearing whatever clothing items they went to sleep in, plus their shoes and a coat. The newest arrivals to Mathias Township will perhaps stand out for being slightly more appropriately dressed than their new neighbors. They are all a bit damp, physically worn out, and half-frozen from their apparent walk through a blizzard.

Each of the four locations is inescapable — residents are trapped, with exterior doors and windows being shut tight and a blizzard raging outside. The locations are stocked with fresh food and water and a large pile of firewood for the fireplaces in each building. The circumstances residents will face, however, may vary wildly between locations as the forces at work in Mathias respond to the recent actions of certain individuals.

BOARDING HOUSE | GREY GULL
NEW HOUSE | MYSTERY MANSION

These residents will wake with a mark on their left hand palms, a spiraling black symbol similar to those some may have seen around town. All marks are identical and cannot be removed, but will have seemingly vanished from their skin on the morning of the 26th day.

Castiel, Daisy Johnson, Dean Winchester
Elena Gilbert, Elijah Mikaelson, Helen Magnus
Phil Coulson, Quentin Coldwater, Sherlock Holmes

DAYS 026-027
IN THE AFTERMATH
After their ordeals of the past two days, the unfortunate residents of Mathias Township will be grateful to find that they were back where they are supposed to be, a chill still clinging to their clothes in whatever place they went to sleep the night of the 23rd day. New arrivals will wake in the living room of the boarding house. None of the residents will wake with anything in their possession from the locations in which they were previously trapped, including any notes or documentation they may have made during their time there.

CONDITIONS UPDATE
— SNOW continues to fall heavily on Days 024-025, resulting in white out conditions from the wind that blows in gusts of over 35 mph; the temperature also drops drastically, making conditions extremely dangerous for residents. The blizzard clears on Day 26 and residents are left with a cold, calm world covered in white.

— THE FOG remains blocking the paths in the forest, urging residents to stay huddled within the town proper, and it also now blocks the northern section of town, beginning just before where residents know the chasm in the earth to be. Venturing into the fog is... ill-advised.

— DISAPPEARANCES continue to plague the town. Kylo Ren and Thomas Richardson have vanished without a trace.

— NO NEW DEATHS have occurred in town, but there is a new "grave" in the small makeshift graveyard near the schoolhouse. Rey's corpse has been moved and covered with stones to wait for the ground to thaw enough for a proper burial.

— THE LANTERNS will be gone from the morning of Day 024. No trace of them remains.

OOC UPDATES
— A GIFT for everyone! As a thank you for being part of this spooky little game, every character in the game is being gifted 2 Activity Points. These may be banked over here — instead of linking to an AC post, you may put "New Year gift" in that field. Happy 2021, friends!

— NEW LAYOUTS have been installed for our communities! Huge thanks to our Eldritch Librarian Stars for putting in the time to get this place looking shiny. (You may have also noticed some new page layouts being installed — these are also our Librarian's handiwork!)

— 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.)

— 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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[Plotting comment here!]

[Castiel falls asleep with the memory of Dean Winchester’s lips on his own and the way Dean looked at him while telling him he decided for him embedded behind his eyes, his own personal ghosts that entangle themselves with the weight of Castiel’s other thoughts and emotional concerns as he settles into his bed, wearing a pair of comfortable flannel pajamas that don’t quite fit him right but prove warm and soft all the same. As much as he hates that he now needs to sleep, Castiel finds that he quite enjoys the process of falling asleep regardless; as soon as his head hits the pillows, he’s out like an extinguished candle.

Castiel wakes up and he knows, instantly, that something’s wrong. It’s the way the light peeks in from the wrong angle, and the chill seeping through his pajamas and into his bones; his eyes snap abruptly open, and he all but bolts up, twisting and turning, trying to piece together this new puzzle set before him in the form of why he suddenly finds himself in a bedroom that isn’t his own.]

Hello? What is this place? Dean?

[Castiel all but jumps off the strange (and luxurious) bed he finds himself on, rolling his neck and back as he stretches, searching all around for any signs of familiarity, specifically, familiar faces in the form of people he knows, particularly Dean or Claire. As he moves from the room, in his motions, he notices that, in his left palm, a mark appears in the form of a strange, spiral shape. He blinks, but he puts that concern aside. He would rather find people, or find out where he happens to be, first.

Castiel will explore around the second floor before making his way to the first. Once he does have a better understanding of what’s happening, Castiel will put himself to work through helping others, however he can. He will help with Dean with meal preparations, specifically, with washing and preparing dishes and keeping things tidy, and he will try and help out wherever he’s needed as well.]

( Once Doc finds Dean, the eldest Winchester pushes through what's going to be a bear of a hangover to start a breakfast. He needs fuel of some sort if he can't drown his feelings and nausea in more alcohol.

Busying himself with a breakfast fit for however many of them are stuck here, he gets to work. Enough eggs to distribute, fruit set out on a tray (people like fruit, right?), bacon sizzling, piled as he sizzles more up. It's buffet style. He doesn't stop because it keeps his hands and mind busy.

Cas wants to help.

With Cas being trapped with him, Dean can breathe. Not well, because he still has Claire to worry about, and every time he moves he gets the gurgling sensation in his stomach and he has to close his eyes just long enough to pass. But, enough that it is one less thing to worry about. He recognizes the symbol on his hand. Blames himself for watching that freaking film, but there is no John Constantine, is there?

As for addressing what happened? He doesn't. When Cas offers to help, all Dean can say in return is, )

No need. I set it buffet-style. Grab-and-go.

( His voice is hoarse, his focus is in and out, and he does need the minute as he sets a spatula down and lets a roll of nausea pass. )

No stash upstairs? Not a flask? By the bed scotch?

I thought I could help with the cleaning. And perhaps setting out the dishes.

[Castiel says, moving to grab utensils and dishes from where he can find them in the cabinets and various drawers in the kitchen. He's trying to pretend he isn't sneaking glances at Dean out of the corner of his eyes every few minutes, but he's also unable to help himself. He can still taste Dean's lips on his own, still remembers the passion with which Dean kissed him. The bitter part of himself wonders if it was all the alcohol even as he feels the way his stomach twists in knots at the way Dean currently looks and sounds, as though he needs to drink to function.

He winces at Dean's inquiry before he can stop himself. He really detests being burdened with so much humanity.]

None that I saw, Dean. I'm sorry.

[He would fetch it for Dean if there were any to be found, much as he detests that particular thought.

He frowns when he catches sight of Dean setting down the spatula, looking as though he might be sick.]

Dean, are you alright?

Yeah, that uh, you can do. Go wild.

( He's happy that Cas is okay and selfishly happy Cas is in the same house as him. Wherever they are. Whatever they are. He sees Cas steal a few glances, but doesn't comment on it.

Cas busies himself, sets out a few dishes, the utensils.

Dean closes his eyes, pushing away another wave of his unsettled stomach.

Is he alright. No, he's damaged goods. He's trapped. He hurt Cas more than he'd ever want to and knows it and he doesn't know how to actually communicate with another person when it comes to his own feelings. )

I'm fine.

( His narrator: "He was in fact, not fine." )

[Castiel, in fact, is going wild with setting out dishes and utensils. Once he has dishes and utensils all set out, he seeks out what he can find for napkins and paper towels. He arranges and rearranges it all, trying to form the best and most convenient arrangement next to Dean's buffet.

He tries not to sigh too loudly when Dean says he's fine, but that rush of air leaving his lungs ultimately betrays him. He looks up and over at Dean from the counter, fixing him with a look, a combination of exasperation, frustration, and sympathy he reserves just for Dean.]

Are you really?

[He pries because someone has to; someone has to try and reach out to Dean, to offer him the chance to allow himself to not be fine. Castiel will always try and reach out, to offer Dean his ears or his shoulders, whichever he might want.]

( Dean decides he doesn't like that he set cereal out as an option. He closes the two boxes, clicking the tabs in and moves them back to the counter behind him. Cas' sigh rivals the one Dean expels. )

You want to tell me I look like crap, Cas, just go ahead and say it.

( He pulls the kitchen rag from his shoulder and wipes the counter down, holding his palm underneath to catch crumbs.

He deposits those crumbs into the trash can. )

What about you? Everything -- working?

[Castiel rolls his eyes in response. Fine, he thinks. If Dean wants honesty, Dean will get honesty.]

Okay. I think you look like shit, actually. I was trying to be nice about it, but since you asked...

[He pinches the bridge of his nose. He doesn't mean for so much sarcasm to seep into his tone, but he feels on edge, as brittle as a twig iced over by a winter storm; like he could break at any given moment. He busies himself by arranging and rearranging the paper towels, finding even more convenient spots for them every few minutes or so.]

Yes, as far as I'm aware. My Grace might have limitations here, but it does seem to be intact.

[He considers Dean a moment, in between finding a new placement for the forks.]

I could use my Grace on you, if you feel as bad as you look.

You don't have to be nice. Say what you need to say. We're all adults.

( He doesn't mean it. He doesn't mean it how it sounds, but it's what comes out, cold and annoyed, stilted, sharp brows accompanying a withering look. He knows why he looks like shit. He went to bed, didn't hydrated, barely ate, and then probably broke his best friend's heart.

He pushes on, though, asking about Cas. )

You're not banana bag grace-ing me. Save it for someone who needs it.

( Dean wouldn't let Cas bend those limitations or experiment on them involving him. Not when other people might have it worse. Other people might die. )

I've been on worse benders and pulled it together in less time.

( There were days a hunting day off turned into an all hands on deck situation, for both he and Sam. Separately and sometimes together. Coming off their Las Vegas weekend, Monday was usually a long drive and a pit stop away from their next case. )

[Castiel sighs, louder than he means to. He knows he ought to be patient; he knows he ought to reign in his feelings and hurt in the aftermath of their kissing. Since his arrival in Mathias, however, along with his limited angelic abilities, Castiel finds that he seems to be displaying more and more the bad habits of humans, such as lacking the restraint to hinder one's true feelings and being unable to wield politeness as anything other than it's own kind of weapon, sharp and pointed as an angel blade.

He rubs a hand over his face, lets his eyes fall shut momentarily before opening them again.] If I say what I want to say, I will probably only add to your hangover.

[He returns to his task of helping set up the buffet, adjusting and readjusting utensils, napkins, and plates just to give himself something to do and to keep from looking at Dean. Concern, worry, and exasperated devotion are wearing him down more than he would like to admit; keeping his hands busy helps stave that off.]

Fine. I thought I would offer, regardless.

[Castiel pinches the bridge of his nose before returning to his tasks at hand.]

Have you at least drunk water? Does this kitchen perhaps have some of that liquid with the electorates?

[Regardless of whatever else he feels, Castiel's primary concern remains focused on Dean's wellbeing.]

Electrolytes, Cas.

( He's not mad at him. He reminds himself. He's not annoyed with his fidgeting or helping. He loves --

That's a thought he opens his eyes to, shaking his head. He licks his lips, looking behind him at the fridge, and then back. )

No. It has coffee. And water. But, good thinking. Maybe I should stop drinking coffee like it's water.

( "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for kissing you. I'm sorry for being confused. I'm sorry for being unworthy of your love." He is. He's not good enough. He's not right enough. Cas is an angel. A freaking angel. Maybe once upon a time he could reconcile being God's choice. But, Chuck fucked all that up. He should want it. It's outside of what Chuck wanted.

But, they're not alone. And he can't drink. )

We're okay, Cas.

( "I love you, too." )

Yes. Those. I've heard they're good for hangovers.

[He probably doesn't need to rearrange these utensils, napkins, and plates as he is, but there is something particularly soothing and distracting about the motion of changing his mind and shifting the forks to just next the spoons, and changing the positions of the napkins and plates.

At Dean's comment about coffee, Castiel glances up, tiling his head as he watches him.]

Not a bad idea. Or, at least, balance your coffee with some water. Perhaps some juice, if there's any in the fridge.

[He doesn't mean to sound like a Mother Hen, but he can't help it; he's concerned, and he wants to try and look after Dean in any way that he can.

Castiel pauses when Dean says that they're okay, hands hovering over the napkins he's about to move for the fiftieth time. His gaze lingers on Dean.] Are we?

Gatorade. I'll uh - stock up when we get back to the other house that isn't ours.

( Cas is going rain man right now, but if he needs to do that, have at it. Dean's not going to comment on angel idiosyncrasy. )

There-uh - there might.

( Maybe he saw orange juice. Did he? )

Yeah. We're not - this isn't -- I think I need time.

( Is that fair to say? Is that what he needs? It's what he can give. It's - what he can -- understand. Because he doesn't. He doesn't understand what happened. He only knows he went overboard, got Cas' hopes up and -- still can't think of anybody else he'd want to talk about it besides Cas. Maybe Claire. She has enough on her plate. )

Good. It sounds like something we should stock up on, anyway. Just in case.

[Castiel knows just enough about human medicine from all the times he's witnessed and assisted with patching up the Winchesters and their friends and allies, when he either didn't have access to his Grace or his Grace proved useless in first aid. Gatorade or any drink with electrolytes seems like a good product for them to keep on hand.

He pauses in his arrangement, considers Dean a moment, before making his way over to the fridge. He opens it, and finds both orange and apple juice.]

Do you have a preference for apple or orange juice?

[He grabs a glass from a nearby cabinet, waits on Dean's answer before he pours.

When Dean mentions that he needs time, Castiel nods, even as he also aches at the thought. That's a fair response, he thinks. Time might do them both some good, in fact.]

Time it is, then.

[Castiel doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like finding himself trapped in a house he doesn’t know, with furniture that seems too rich and pictures on the walls that cause chills to run through him whenever he passes them by, and he doesn’t like the fact that nothing of what powers that he has available to him here seem to prove particularly useful.

Currently, Castiel is still exploring, but he also can’t help but find himself drawn to the mark on his left palm, bringing it up in front of his face as he ventures in between rooms, trying to discern what it could possibly mean.

He’s so distracted with his own palm, he doesn’t notice someone else approaching, and so, he nearly tumbles right into the stranger, too distracted currently by his own problems. He manages, thankfully, to avoid a collision outright, and he offers the stranger an apologetic smile.]

I apologize. I find myself distracted by my own hand, these days.

[He tries to turn into a joke, the kind of charming addition he’s observed Dean making. He doesn’t know that his own attempt quite lands, however.]

[Castiel, in his attempts to help others try and find ways out of this house, namely, trying to help pick locks and open windows, trying to heal the injuries of others as they occurred, and running around without pausing to even catch his breath, let alone recharge his own batteries, winds up expending more Grace than he can really afford to.

By the late afternoon, Castiel stumbles into the living room, distinctly pale, his nose pink as though he’s struck with fever, and eyes wide and watery, his movements like that of a haphazard rag doll as he all but falls into a chair close to the fire place. He finds himself overcome with chills, and he can’t stop sneezing and occasionally coughing. He drapes himself across the chair like an old, wilting blanket, and he tries hugging himself to keep from getting too cold. His limbs feel heavy and archaic; Castiel can’t bring himself to move now that he’s off of his feet, which ache as though he’s walked through mounds of Legos.

This, even Castiel can admit, was a stupid move on his part. Imagine what could happen if he used up all of his Grace, his inner thoughts scold him, his inner thoughts that very much resemble Dean Winchester’s own voice, currently. He winces, and he hugs himself tighter. He sneezes.]

Apparently doing too much now makes me liable to stupid human diseases.

[He mutters under his breath. He hopes he’s alone in the room, he thinks. He doesn’t want anyone, especially Dean, to find him like this.]

[Rest has proven useful. Castiel feels better the following day, though he still feels somewhat under the weather, all the same. He suspects he’s going to need to take things easy for a couple of days, at least. Which…fine, he supposes. He can live with that.

He spends today helping out in the kitchen and cleaning, moving more slowly than he normally would. He takes his time, doesn’t rush, but he also enjoys being useful, so he keeps finding ways to help that don’t involve using his Grace. When the power goes out, Castiel works to keep candles and lanterns lit, and he also tries to help keep a fire going in the fire place.

If he catches sight of the shadow people out of the corner of his eyes, Castiel deliberately ignores them, trying his best to pay them no mind.]

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024-027 » neither reward nor punishment

Castiel | Supernatural | Open and Closed

Day 024 | Waking Up and Exploring – Open

and Exploring

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Day 024 | Closed to Phil Coulson

Day 024 | Burned Out on Grace – Open

Day 025 | Fires and Shadows – Open