[OPEN] nature, nurture, heaven, and home

[unwings]

WHO: Castiel and Free Cities residents
WHAT: Intro and catch-all for December
WHEN: Through December
WHERE: Cadens and the Horizon mostly
WARNINGS: None as of yet, will update as needed



MUSEUMS; Castiel sees some sights

[ While Cas spends his first few days in Cadens touring each of the popular museums, he finds himself intrigued most by the history museum. Much time and attention is paid to the mention of Fey and Daemons, their near extinction and claiming of a territory christened ‘Nocwich’. Studying a map, the trek there seems a long and arduous one, requiring navigation across deserts and mountain ranges. Not likely one he’d be able to make soon, but his interest remains all the same.

Curiosity eating at him, Castiel can’t help but seek more information from any source, once he’s finished studying all he can of the exhibits. ]

When was the last time the Fey were in contact with human settlements? [ Cas asks the museum guest standing nearby, assuming anyone in this city will know more on the topic than he does currently, ] Do expeditions often venture to Nocwich?

[ The Fey of his world are wiley but ancient creatures, though clearly the preferred option to daemons. Either race might have a more accurate insight on the nature of the Old Gods and the Singularity than he trusts the humans of any faction would. Perhaps that should be his next goal. ]

CITY EXPLORATION; Castiel makes a friend

[ Cas doesn’t sleep, not unless he’s extremely low on grace, or grievously wounded, neither of which apply currently. Dean’s made it very clear that standing sentry over him while he’s “getting his 4 hours” is “creepy”, so lingering around the barracks they’ve been provided cots in isn’t an option.

Instead, he takes to exploring the streets of Cadens after dark. Anywhere between midnight and dawn, Cas can be found leisurely pacing along major streets or dirt roads, anywhere in town, browsing along with eyes scanning the scenery like he’s perusing a museum, hands clasped behind his back.

At some odd hour of the night/morning, he happens upon a stray cat. A scrawny, tawny colored thing, fur likely stained darker from grime and dirt. He follows her, joining the journey from one alley to the next, scavenging for scraps in dumpsters, trash cans, and compost piles. When she finds a rubbish bin too tall for her to knock over, or covered to keep her from jumping in, Castiel courteously assists, removing a lid, tipping over the container, or even unwrapping bundles for her inspection.

Catch him anywhere, exploring or on a journey with his new cat friend. ]

Academy of Medicine; Castiel Auditions for Grey’s Anatomy

A; [ Castiel’s toured the museums, which led him to the medical academy, where he paces now in the lobby area, a goal in mind but not entirely certain how to get there. Spotting someone in similar robes to his, he approaches to question them. ]

Hello. [ Short, curt, but not unfriendly, ] I’d like to offer my aid as a healer. Whom should I speak with?

[ Cas has no clue if this person is any level of authority in the medical academy, or local hospitals, but that doesn’t seem to bother him. Ask enough people enough questions and he’ll get there eventually. ]

B; [ Or perhaps he had no luck in the lobby, and snuck his way into the halls of the academy, wandering until he happened upon a group of students, led by an experienced doctor, in a crowded room with pockets of other doctors, staff, and patients about. They appear to be teaching, with two patients set on exams tables at either side of the doctor. Quizzing, the students declare symptoms and propose possible diagnoses, when Cas approaches without invitation, assuming the question is open for anyone to answer.

He leans to the side, and takes a sniff of one patient’s shoulder, before announcing confidently - ] It’s a respiratory infection.

[ When he glances at the patient on the other side, the man’s staring at him as if Castiel’s grown a second head (technically, his true form has 3, so, not entirely inaccurate). The angel takes it as cue to diagnose him as well, leaning over to give a quizzical hair-sniff. ]

This one’s diabetic. [ Cas reports promptly to the attending physician, ] Type 2, insulin resistant.

With mild indigestion.

[ A pause, the group staring at him unsure whether to comment on the rudeness of his interruption, or the audacity that medical conditions can be sniffed out. Either it goes over his head, or Cas doesn't find it worth acknowledging, as he continues on with his goal. ]

Does your Academy offer employment?

Market; Castiel Gets His Hustle On

Blacksmith; No, I don’t have any currency, but I can offer services.

[ the woman attended to customers at the counter between a blacksmith's workshop and market streets arches her brows suggestively, a little waggling, while the muscled wall of a 6’5” man behind her, most likely the husband Castiel’s realizing, looms menacingly, idly slapping a forge hammer against the palm of his hand. There’s been a misunderstanding. ]

No no, not... not those services. Do you need anything lifted? Or killed? [ the smith immediately points to his competition, another blacksmith set up directly across the road. Another misunderstanding. Castiel’s getting worse at this, not better. ] I should’ve specified. Any game animal or malicious creature killed, not fellow citizens.

[ No offense, but you don’t look like you could lift a laundry basket, let alone anything here. The chuckle is a deep, patronizing tone, and Cas tilts his head with furrowed brows. The blacksmith claims no offense, but seems an awful lot like he meant offense. The angel squints, barest hint of a frown forming. Eyes travel past the smith and into his shop. Without requesting entry or preamble, Cas paces past the man, his wife, and his onlooking apprentice, to the massive anvil they’d been hammering on moments ago.

Wordlessly, Cas lifts the iron monstrosity several feet off the ground without a flinch, grunt, or gritting of teeth, easy as rearranging kitchen chairs. Expression flat, he abruptly drops it back into place, rattling the sword stands, tools, and tables around them. A slight crack splinters the stone beneath it.

After an awkwardly silent few seconds, the wife breaks the silence.

Flooring’s added to your tab. What kinda sword you looking for? ]

Bakery; [ In his exploration of available commercial goods, the scent of fresh bread and pastries seizes Castiel’s senses. Following it to a popular local bakery, his eyes drink in the wide array of breads, muffins, pastries with fruit toppings or fillings, and pie. Observing for a moment, he watches a customer barter a basket of eggs for a loaf of specialty bread, someone else with milk for muffins. It gives him an idea. Perhaps not a great one, but we’ll see how it pans out.

Trekking back into the streets, more towards the outskirts and farmland, Cas can be found creeping along after a stray chicken that’s toddling through dirt roads, eyeing this stranger crouched behind her with a suspicious cluck. Usually it's wayward children and bored dogs that stalk the hen, not full grown adults shuffling feet against gravel and earth to sneak closer and closer. The chicken’s right to be wary, and a distressed squawk or three sounds when Cas snaps his arms out to grab her.

Wings flap, feet kick, Cas gets a mouthful of feathers and a couple winged slaps across the face before he finally touches a couple fingers to the bird’s tiny little head. Whether the chicken wants to or not, it goes limp, unconscious. Great. Bartering item acquired.

Ten or so minutes later, he’s back at the bakery, loose chicken feathers stuck in his hair and dirt smudged on his cheeks, yet he looks as if he’d just won the lottery - quite proud of himself. Once at the front of the line, Cas presents the dozing chicken like the grandest prize in the world. ]

I need pie. Please accept this poultry in exchange.

[ some minutes later, he’ll be short one chicken but gained a cherry pie, self-satisfied smile on his face. Somewhere in town, an irate farmer is looking for their missing hen. Feel free to intervene at any point in this process. ]

Comments

[cointosser]

[Jaskier blinks. If it was embarrassing, he doesn't feel the man should be compelled to be looking into people's trash for... actually, he's not quite sure anymore. If he's not hungry, or bored -- apparently -- then he's...

Fucking odd is what he is.

However, Castiel has chosen the exact wrong person to ask this very serious question to, because he looks over the man in the alley with a very perceptive eye, deciding that, yes, this is information he probably needs.] I didn't mean it that way, but when you phrase it as a question? Yes. I would trust a bard over a mage any day. [His preferences may have been touched by recent events, but -- let's be honest, no one should be trusting mages nor sorceresses on word alone.] No, no service. Charity. You look rather poor.

[LOOK, HE ASKED.]

I suppose you could return it to me in exchange for a song. [That's a joke, and his tone clearly indicates so. He circles back to the question from before.] Also, you wouldn't look terrible with... perhaps a bit of a goatee? A feathered hat to hide that... [He gestures to Castiel's hair.] Muss. And a well-tailored coat. I'm thinking... blue. Ah, yes! A dark navy blue. Very suitable for your skin tone.

[You know, at least from what he can tell by the glow of the bird on his shoulder. Which imitates Casitel's head tilt right back at him.

You may ask what sort of man would give fashion advice to someone he met in an alleyway, in the middle of the night, digging through rubbish.

Jaskier is exactly that man.]

[righteously]

( There's about two entire seconds where indignation flares up in him as the guy invites himself right on into Dean's car — it manifests in him standing up straight, lips parted, brow furrowed, about a breath away from woah, the hell do you think you're doing — but the sight of it stops him.

Dorky little guy looks cute when he's pleased. Plus, something about it pokes at some part of his brain he can't identify.

There's a contemplative pause between the question and the answer, and when he relents it's over more than just giving up his name. )

Dean. Stop bouncing, this ain't a trampoline.

( The latter bit is mild, absent grump, with no real commitment or heat. Not like it's actually gonna hurt the shocks, this thing's made of tougher stuff than that.

He rounds the hood toward the driver's seat, climbs in, then slings his arm over the back so he can half-turn and peer at the guy. )

Alright, if you're stickin' around, we're gonna have to lay down some ground rules.

[righteously]

( Dean's answer is to make mocking noises to himself under his breath that sound sort of like mermaps merdsmanship mer mer merder. Shut up, Cas, who asked you. He's getting actively punked out by a chick he's got like fifty pounds, five inches, and a decade on. Don't make a margarita out of his paper cut.

With the attitude of a toddler, he grumpily yanks the sword out of Yertle's mouth and wipes it off (with no small amount of disgust) on Castiel's sleeve.

Anyway, back to business.

Ciri's pretty much got this wrapped up — sans tail, it'd bleed to death in a minute or two, tops. The pain and survival instinct get it un-ballifying to lash out wildly with the remaining vestiges of its strength. Just to help things along, a dagger comes whizzing by and thunks itself dead-center of the thing's eye. It wails a pathetic sound that actually makes him feel a little guilty, and comes to rest at Ciri's feet.

Dean shoots the angel a look like nyeh — he's better with daggers than swords — and then strides on over to retrieve it from their fallen quarry. )

Solid ass-kicking. ( He comments, giving her a scrutinizing once-over. ) Sorry to horn in on your rodeo.

[unwings]

[ the admonishment has cas abruptly halting his bouncing, hands folding into his lap like it’ll help him keep them to himself. ]

Apologies.

[ It’s difficult to reign in his cheer. He has a neighbor now, even if the neighbor isn’t quite the same species as him, perhaps that won’t hinder companionship as much as he initially suspected.

Once Dean joins him in the driver’s seat, Cas slides to the side, settling himself more in the middle of the bench than to one side, so he can see him clearly, and Cas can lean over the back of Dean’s bench to watch the goings-on of the dashboard and gear shift.

The urge to reach out and touch some of the most apparent knobs crosses his mind, but he thinks better of it when Dean makes it clear they’ll be laying down the law now. ]

Ground rules. [ he echoes, eyes engaged and intently curious on the side of Dean’s face. He’s good with rules and instructions (he thinks), this should be doable. ] Like personal space?

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri gracefully avoids the spurt of blood from the hacked-off tail, ducking to the side and into a crouch meant to get her under the creature's shell near its hind leg, the point of her sword angling up to open the artery in its thigh.

Instead, there's a faint hiss of steel cutting through air and the chaigon cries out pitifully, thrashing violently once more before it crumples, forcing Ciri to regain her footing and jump back quick before its spiky shell can cause any damage on the way down.

Ciri stares at the dagger protruding from its face, following the trajectory to one of the men who'd interrupted her. The one who'd been pushed out of the way by the super-strong fellow.

His scrutinizing once-over is met with an intensely unimpressed and displeased frown. Notably, as he retrieves the dagger, Ciri keeps her sword drawn, held down at her side. Not threatening, exactly. But ready.

Her other hand comes to rest on her hip, posture distinctly annoyed. ]

Warn someone before you go throwing blades in their direction.

I didn't need your help.

[ The way she bites off the word, it's easy to imagine she doesn't think it was particularly helpful at all. ]

[righteously]

Yes. ( Immediately and enthusiastically, accompanied by a point. ) Exactly like personal space.

( Look at that, good job, he's learning already. )

Second, don't go... sneaking up on people like that. Especially not as a... ten story tall... mind-bending... freaky...

( He's coming up short fishing around for a good final noun here, because — still, what the fuck. Whatever, dude knows what he means, so he finishes with: )

Just don't. That's how you give somebody a heart attack.

( This is him praying that back in the real world he didn't piss himself all over Sam's floor. )

[unwings]

[ okay, yeah, personal space, he can work on that. he parts his lips to ask for an exact measurement of what personal space includes, but the second rule gives him more to contemplate. ]

I never intended to— sneak. [ it's not his fault your face was under a car. just convenient for his ten story tall snooping. ] Your heart rate was elevated but stable.

[ by the way, he hears that - your heart. you'll never need Life Alert no matter how elderly and frail you get, bud, isn't that great? what a helpful neighbor he is. ]

I'd have noticed if you went into cardiac arrest. You were never in any danger.

[ it's genuinely meant as sincere reassurance, but clearly castiel doesn't pick up on how creepy it sounds otherwise. ]

[unwings]

[ he does notice red wing, and that's where castiel's attention stalls for the remainder of the conversation. the bird's head tilts one way, and cas follows, then the other, like they're playing a mirroring game. when sam emerges back into the living room, he's still there, with one of sam's trinkets still in hand, forgotten in favor of the avian friend. ]

No, I’m never hungry, but I appreciate the effort for hospitality.

[ very thoughtful of you, sam, if he had any use for bread he'd take you up on it, but given the state of medieval economy and food scarcity, he'd rather not take from sam's provisions frivolously. besides - molecules, it's all just molecules to him. the new conversation's enough to pull him from communing with the falcon (who was probably ready for the weirdo to stop staring at it anyway), and his interest returns to Sam, eyes finding him with a small, polite smile. unfortunately, still clutching the trinket, as he might've forgotten where he picked it up by now. ]

Thank you for welcoming me into your home. It seems... nested.

[ well-loved, warm and comfortable, suited to him. it seems sam's made the best of an unexpected relocation and created a proper home for himself. humans have an admirable talent for that castiel's never quite been able to grasp. even the brothers turned the impala into a familiar safe haven while on the road. ]

If there’s nothing else you feel I should know beforehand, yes, I suppose we could... get right into it.

[ copying the phrasing others use typically helps with his lack of people skills, or at least, cas thinks it does. there'll probably never be a day he's completely without some element of off in conversations with strangers. ]

[unwings]

[ fucking odd is pretty damn accurate, and 'painfully naïve' wouldn't be off the mark either, so it doesn't occur to castiel that jaskier isn't the expert on local tradition and culture that he's trusting him to be. the angel's eager to learn and the bard's clearly willing to teach, so this is happening.

you look rather poor. well, his pockets are empty of funds, and he isn't employed, though he'd never been employed, ever, since the dawn of time. still, jaskier isn't wrong. ]

I suppose that's not inaccurate. [ cas admits in a hapless murmur, eyes sliding off to the side.

while he isn't exactly in need of anything, neither does he have any real kind of income, besides lifting and moving heavy things for tradesmen in exchange for goods, or angel-teleporting insta-deliveries. there may be an marketable service in there, but how can he expect to gain clients if he doesn't look like a respectable member of this society? cas pays rapt attention to the suggestions, like he'd be taking notes if he had the money to afford parchment, but the first option earns a vague wince. ]

A friend once told me men with goatees are douchebags, beatnicks, or Guy Fieri. [ so, that's struck from the potentials list. thank you, dean winchester. ] But I did once have a coat.

Though, it was tan. [ a beat, and this is just getting more disheartening as he goes on. style has never been his strong suit. ] And ill-fitting, apparently.

[ usually a source of ridicule more than compliment. he's pretty fond of that coat, it's comfortable and warm, but a more tailored version wouldn't go amiss. the feathered hat - maybe that's a viable, more affordable option. cas lifts the hand still presenting jaskier's coin, and asks with genuine and unmasked concern, ] Is this enough for a feathered hat?

[unwings]

[ why the fuq are u like this, dean winchester.

cas stares deadass as his best friend uses him like a man-sized napkin. The rudeness, the audacity, the entire lack of surprise on Castiel’s part. Back home, he might’ve been able to clean the grime away with a wave of a hand and some grace, but not all his powers transferred to this world, altering matter at will being one left behind.

cas huffs a resigned sigh. it's fine. he'll pay it back to him later.

now, there's an irate monster slayer holding on to dean's stray dagger, and at least one of them ought to make nice, if there's any hope of gleaning some new knowledge or advice from this woman. perhaps even a new ally, if they're lucky. ]

Yes, you had it well in hand, that's apparent. [ spoken pointedly, as cas steps forward, bumping dean's side with the gross guts-napkin sleeve as he passes him by to address Ciri directly, expression softening into something polite, and attempting friendly. ] Please forgive my friend, unrequested aid is simply his nature.

[ usually a good thing, considering his line or work and the fact most people of their world don't realize there is someone to request aid from in their realm of problem solving. ]

We're newly summoned to this world and hoped to investigate local monster life.

[righteously]

( Okay, you know what, excellent segue- )

Third, you gotta stop taking stuff so literally, man. Sometimes people say stuff that means other stuff. Don't look at me, I don't make the rules.

( That last part's delivered about as sympathetically as he can manage, which is... like a two and a half out of ten. He doesn't make the rules, he's just the biggest abuser of them of all time, probably.

There's a pause — either to check that Cas is on the same page, or to see if anything else springs to mind. Considering they've known each other all of 5 minutes, and he's covered just about every infraction thus far... yeah, he might be tapped.

That being said, maybe he should throw the guy a bone or something. Balance out of the dick he apparently is. ​)

...you can sit in the front, if you want. I don't bite.

[righteously]

( Cas covers the you totally had it piece, to which Dean contributes one little jerk of his head in the angel's direction — what he said. Except he immediately regrets the team-building alignment when the son of a bitch deliberately goo-sleeve shoulder-checks him.

The bitchiest bitch face of all time.

Anyway, time for a little smooth maneuvering to maybe deescalate: )

You know if there's any more of them running around here we oughta be worried about? Because I didn't think to pack my bazooka for this one.

( These monsters are turning out to be a little more... monster-y than he's used to. Which is fine and all, but it figures this is the one time he has a completely valid excuse to use the grenade launcher and it ain't even in the same dimension. )

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri's already drawing certain conclusions. Chief among them: Suspiciously Strong Man is the one to talk to, and the other one doesn't know what he's doing. Amateur monster hunters of some sort? Or perhaps not amateurs, at least not one of them. Few of the newly summoned (another issue to think about, that this is still going on) decide wandering into the desert specifically looking for monsters is one of the first things on their to-do lists.

(She also definitely assumes bazooka is the name of a sword. Whoops.)

She surveys them a few seconds longer, keeping an eye on the dagger but making no move to stop him from taking it. There is no indication whether or not his friend is forgiven, but Ciri does answer said friend's question. Looking directly at the other guy (Castiel) as she does. ]

Plenty more where these came from. Though they tend to be solitary beasts. Two at once like this is unusual. [ She'd been taken off guard, honestly -- not that she'll say as much. No way she could have expected the second chaigon barreling in out of nowhere while she was only halfway through dispatching its friend. Or mate. ]

They also rarely wander this close to the city.

[ She's beginning to put the pieces together. The merchant who had hired her complained of losing goods and having trouble hiring wagon drivers due to increased chaigon activity on the way to Aquila. A mating season, perhaps? Would explain the over-aggression, even by chaigon standards, and the unusual number of them seen together. Ciri frowns thoughtfully, lips pressed together, glancing between the two corpses. She might be able to convince the client to hire her longer term as a wagon escort until the beasts disperse again.

--in any case. She'll deal with that later.

Now, she has two dead chaigons and two new idiots on her hands. ]

Consider being less cavalier about throwing around your origins in the future. We are a handful in a vast city, and lots of folks aren't from Cadens to begin with. If you must, say you're from afar.

[ Never know when someone might start getting ideas about their kind. Ciri prefers not to throw that kind of information about casually, but to another pair of Summoned, it only makes sense to let them know she is one too. They tend to keep an eye on one another. ]

When did they pull you out?

[unwings]

[ that rule is a bit more complicated in his mind than the others. refraining from specific actions, he can do, but interpreting the meaning, or alternate meaning, behind words that aren't supposed to mean what they actually mean? oof. he's lost. ]

How is it indicated when words mean other stuff?

[ cas is not on the same page. he needs clear instructions on that, please, cas doesn't feel equipped to just know these things innately, and Dean apparently makes frequent use of this rule. the request is genuine, as is his intention of following the rules he's given - not attempting to be difficult.

as for where he should sit, the angel pauses briefly, glancing at the empty space beside dean in the front row, and considers the relative comfort of where he is. there's a certain appeal to it, a sense that it'd been off limits until now, and his curiosity wins out.

perhaps prompting the need for another rule, cas flaps his lil wings and teleports, rather than opening a door, sliding out, opening another door, and taking the new seat. why waste all that effort? so inefficient, and it would've interrupted the flow of conversation. as if nothing happened, he continues on with the topic at hand. ]

Cardiac arrest and skin flaying are very serious medical concerns. Is it truly safe to overlook them?

[unwings]

[ dean yoU STARTED IT. the bitchface goes dismissed for now, they'll carry on the war over napkining each other later, right now is time for ally building. ]

How frequent are Chaigon mating seasons? [ probably what everyone's already thinking, but Mr. Obvious felt compelled to voice it. ] Perhaps their usual mating grounds were disturbed, driving them here instead.

[ or they're just so very infrequent that everyone forgets about it in between? it's an interesting quandary, and Cas shuffles around the corpses to inspect them for some indication of sex, or pregnancy. A part of him laments slaying them now, if the creatures were just behaving per their nature. They don't seem like the kind of intentionally malevolent monsters that vampires, werewolves, and wendigos are.

it's something to add his list of things to ponder extensively on, while the rest of the city sleeps. maybe a method to safely herd them elsewhere can be devised. it'll take more researching the species, but with Ciri more acquainted with them, it may be beneficial to prod her for more information.

the idea's forgotten with her advise to law more low about their status here, castiel's head giving a small tilt as he considers the warning. ]

Do natives outside Cadens not hold a high opinion of the Summoned?

[ yes, he'll be more careful about it, but he'd also like to know if there's danger to be expected if they are exposed. ]

We arrived roughly a week ago.

[cointosser]

[Jaskier stares at him, putting his hands on his hips.] I don't know what those are, but it sounds like your friend has poor taste. [Goatees are very handsome, thank you! On the right man. You have to have a chin, for one, which his... new friend certainly has.

Gods, this man gets sadder by the moment, and this is on top of Jaskier feeling rather miserable for himself. Perhaps more coin is due. If he's going to adopt every sad sack of shit that he comes across, he may as well add one more on top of it. (At least Hector and Rinwell were never digging into garbage. Look, even Geralt's never been that sad.)

At least, if he must look grubby and poor, he can have a nice hat.]

Nearly. Here. [He offers him a few more coins. His purse is lighter, but it's enough motivation to go back to the thing he's... well. Meant to do.] Get a nice, flashy one. It will help people overlook... [He gestures to all of him with fingers spread, hand moving in a circle through the air.] In return, may you now tell everyone you know of the brilliant Jaskier's benevolence, charity, and, most importantly, excellent advice in fashion. And, please. Never wear tan again.

[falcony]

[ red is absolutely enthralled with cas, just in case there was any question about that, perfectly happy to tilt his own head back and forth and watch cas follow. or, perhaps, red has just picked up on sam's ability to play host - entertaining the guests until sam returns, to which red stands and flutters his wings a bit before settling.

it seems a bit like the falcon is quite used to visitors, but who's to say for sure? ]

Never? Huh. Is that a 'I don't need to eat at all thanks to my body' kind of scenario, or are you just not really ever hungry? [ he has to ask, mostly because he has known plenty of people who start different types of meds and lose their appetite, but he's got a pretty good feeling that's not the case here. either way, he kind of just rolls with it, tearing off an end of the loaf and biting into his own piece, setting the rest aside.

there's a kind of smile, a kind of snort, at the nesting comment. he's not even sure if the other had meant the joke, but sam doesn't really give it a lot more attention, walking over to where the couch sits (the new couch, thanks to the mess this entire place had been just a couple weeks before) and gesturing for cas to take a seat. ]

Just a few things. [ sam settles on the other open spot, setting the rest of his uneaten bread on the table. ] First is that when you get inside, you won't remember anything. Not your name, not any specific memories, not this place- [ he gestures around, meaning cadens, meaning the whole continent, but then doesn't really give cas too much time to ask questions. ] Second is that I'll take you in this time, but the rest of the times you can do it on your own. It just takes some meditation, clearing your mind, but not much else. The only thing you have to worry about is that a lot of the people here in the Free Cities don't know a lot about magic, so they might get a little wary if they see you doing it out in public. Your body stays here and just sort of hangs out, but your mind will be gone. It's kinda freaky, if we're being honest, but you get used to it.

[ sam just kind of talks through it all, resettling the cushions on the couch, making sure cas has on for his back too and getting comfortable where he's sitting as well. there's no real way to tell when you get inside how long you'll be there, not the first time, at least. ]

Third- you're going to probably meet a lot of other people in there. The only other people you do meet are all like us- brought through the portal. I'll be hanging around pretty close by for most of it, so if you need anything, I'll be there to keep an eye out. [ a beat, and then a friendly - if not a little conspiratorial - smile. ] If you've got any secrets, time to spill. Chances are I'll find out about them in a very roundabout way.

[unwings]

It’s been suggested.

[ and yet, doesn’t seem to weigh into castiel’s urge to follow whatever recommendations dean gives him, something he doesn’t entirely understand about himself. ‘Taste’ is a subjective thing, and while fashion often makes a heavy influence on social interaction, it hasn’t been much consequence to him yet, until this Cadens. Fitting in here would make many things easier, and safer, for both of them.

Cas’s eyes widen at the next few coins dropped into his palm, and he beams a smile at the bard. ] Thank you, Jaskier. I won’t forget your kindness.

[ his hand closes around the coins, pulling it back against his person, like he intends to hold tight to it until the hat shop opens in several hours. That list of proclamations Jaskier wants him to make is... certainly a list. He murmurs in concentration, repeating the words to himself, like etching it into memory. ]

Of course. However, my influence is limited here, I’m recently— [ he nearly says ‘Summoned’, before recalling what the monster slayer Ciri told him. Clearing his throat, he starts again, though it sounds a bit stilted, recited. ] I’m from afar.

[ Cas is an awkward and shitty liar. ]

No tan... [ a little dismayed, but he’s heard fashion demands sacrifice. ] Yes, if you insist it’s best.

[cointosser]

Er. [It's quite obvious the genuine thanks actually throws him off a moment. He retracts his hand quite quickly as if him getting a bit too close is unsettling. You know, he's sort of hoping he does forget it now.

He's sort of understanding why this is the sort of man digging in garbage.]

"From afar." Oh, that's adorable. Yes, yes, we're all from other spheres here. All right, not all of us, I wouldn't go asking any street merchants if they've heard of Sex on the Beach. That's a cocktail, by the way. You just have that... way about you.

[He's very proud of the knowledge he's gotten from Julie and her club, thank you. No, he's not trying to make any specific point, other than he's fucking weird enough that Jaskier's first assumption is a safe one.] I definitely insist. If you're spending my coin, it will not be on anything hideous. Now, I expect to find you around once you've... gussied yourself up a bit, because I want to see how well you took my advice.

[You know, now that there's a single person in the world who's finally willing to take it.]

[righteously]

( Dean's suddenly wishing he hadn't wasted rule 3 on an impossible ask when clearly he should have saved it for don't teleport without a heads up. He starts, jerking near-comically an inch or two in the opposite direction. )

Je-

( -sus Christ gets cut off before he can finish even the first word, clamped down along with the closing of his eyes and the setting of his back teeth.

Regressed as he is into his own brain to chill his ass out, enough external stimuli is blocked out that he can feel the sudden flair the proximity brings to his arm. He opens his eyes slowly, brow furrowing, attention directed downward as he slowly peels his sleeve up and away. The handprint shaped brand there looks inflamed, and he could swear it might almost be glowing.

He peels his eyes away from it again and turns them toward Castiel, a split mix between curious and accusatory. )

Why is this thing itching like a poison ivy shower whenever you start invading my personal bubble?

[righteously]

Things I didn't expect to be doing with my day: discussing Chaigon mating habits.

( It's muttered under his breath as he rolls his eyes, clearly intended for absolutely nobody. Ya boy really just likes the sound of his own voice sometimes.

Anyway— )

Cas doesn't have the most first-hand experience with humanity. ( He says to Ciri by way of explanation, and then directs a little education Castiel's way. ) People suck. We're aliens. Anything that ain't from where they're from is gonna get side-eyed, that's just the way it works. Doesn't matter if it's medieval fantasy land or Maimi, some things don't change.

[wiedzminka]

I don't know. Something to ask about at the museum, perhaps.

[ She glances between the two men again with a flicker of surprise when told the strong one (Cas) doesn't have much experience with... humanity? Some sort of non-human, then. That would explain the unusual strength. Ciri knows, of course, that just because he looks like a human man doesn't mean he can't be anything else; she just has no idea, simply by looking at him, what that something else could possibly be. Probably not a vampire, as one would probably have chosen a different way to handle the beast than brute force. For now, though, she does not ask. ]

Your friend is right.

[ A nod, considering Dean. He talks like Julie, or Sam. In fact, she's pretty sure Julie has used very similar words ('medieval' and 'fantasy,' in particular). Unlike Julie or Sam, though, these folks seem entirely acquainted with the concept of monsters. ]

Doesn't matter what their opinions are, as a whole. There's no reason to invite them in the first place.

[ While she talks, Ciri wipes the blood off her sword with a cloth she produces from one of her belt pouches, sheathes it, and pulls out her dagger instead, its blade a shining silver with an intricate pommel decorated on top with a relief of a snarling wolf. ]

I'm Ciri. Been here a few months.

They summoned you at the outpost? Did they tell you they expect anything of you there?

[ She crouches by the nearest chaigon corpse, examining it from the side, and begins wedging her dagger underneath the shell near the neck. ]

[unwings]

[ it’s fascinating, the abrupt snap for control Dean reacts with. While cas feels guilty for alarming him again, curiosity wins out, the need to see what’s going on behind his eyelids. the angel unconsciously leaning forward to examine him, he watches the shift of muscle, the twitches around his guarded eyes. Is it calm he’s generating, or a tighter stranglehold on control? Not the same thing.

His focus is so singular he hardly moves or notices the rule he’s already breaking when Dean’s eyes crack open, Cas following his gaze to his shoulder. No need for Dean to angle the shoulder to him, the angel’s already leaning over to inspect.

The mark pulls at him, something deep in the multidimensional layers of his mind stirring, aligning. ]

I don’t… [ cas starts but never finishes, arresting compulsion dragging his hand to touch Dean’s arm, fingertips light on the outline of the inflamed print, puzzled but enthralled.

He couldn’t say what prompts him to it. Like locking mechanisms clicking into place, its clockwork, by design or meant to be. Carefully, mesmerized, his palm drifts to hover over the scar, then, press down over it, fitting exactly into place.

His being surges, panic or ecstasy or sudden epiphany, he can’t define it, but his very atoms are humming with the skin under his hand, as if a piece of him was left embedded in this man’s flesh.

Castiel’s eyes lock rapt to Dean’s, lost to fixation and searching, words entirely failing him as he drinks him in, body and soul. RIP Dean’s personal bubble, Cas has clearly staked claim to this territory now.

Still entranced with the human imprinted by him, Castiel eventually murmurs, distant, captivated. ]

I think… we’ve met.

[unwings]

[ well, dean's not wrong, so cas makes no argument, attention rapt on his educating friend as he soaks up the new lesson on humanity. it's fairly clear this isn't the first of instance of this, nor will it be the last. it ends with a thoughtful frown and minute nod of understanding. unfortunate as it is, that does track.

ciri seconds the lecture, and it's a strange feeling for cas. typically, he's the only truly strange and alien thing around. it's difficult to tell if it's comforting to be part of a larger group now, or just... more unfortunate.

regardless, his focus is stolen entirely by ciri's carving into the dead monster, head steadily progressive to a near 45 degree tilt. ]

It's nice to meet you, Ciri. I'm Castiel, and this is Dean- [ rattled off rather quickly, to get to his more pressing question; ]

Is it customary to mutilate the corpse?

[unwings]

Both. [ the answer is a calm report, explained matter-of-factly as Cas finds his place on the couch, watching how Sam settles and doing his best to mirror it exactly - monkey see, monkey do. ] This body’s a vessel, my true being is a multidimensional consciousness composed of light waves and energy.

[ Sam’s briefing is thorough, something Cas appreciates greatly, and he listens attentively through the whole of it, frowning progressively deeper. No memories, no name, nothing to define himself by, simply the core of his being. And what is that? Perhaps what he’d first been programmed to be, with everything he’s seen, learned, felt at the Winchesters’ side washed away. Tension creeps up his spine, dragging anxiety behind it, fear of what might show up in the Horizon for Sam to contend with. ]

I certainly hope not. [ less for his own sake, more that a human shouldn’t be exposed to the level of horror and violence he’s witnessed (and committed) in the long span of his life. Not forgetting the trauma of Sam’s torture in Hell he’d shouldered for him. His throat bobs, swallowing thickly. ] If I have no memory, I assume I’ll forget my secrets as well.

[ sounds liberating, in that sense, but it doesn’t edge away the apprehension of what his core self may truly be. Cas doesn't dwell on it long. ]

Will my mind notice if my body’s tampered with while I’m in the Horizon?