ＣＡＳＴＩＥＬ (angel of thursday) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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abraxaslogs2021-12-10 02:23 pm
unwings) wrote in abraxaslogs2021-12-10 02:23 pm
[OPEN] nature, nurture, heaven, and home
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
CITY EXPLORATION; Castiel makes a friend
Academy of Medicine; Castiel Auditions for Grey’s Anatomy
Market; Castiel Gets His Hustle On
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. ]
no subject
Truly unfortunate. Jaskier makes a face, sucking air through his teeth.]
No, I really, really insist. Actually, I'm quite sure you could do with a good deal of other things, as well. Perhaps a bath. And... a book. [You know, something that could waste time that isn't about digging around in rubbish? Maybe?
Consdering he's doing it in the middle the night.
Jaskier takes Castiel's hand and puts the coin in there. There. If he drops it, it's gone forever. And his fault.
His brows raise.] What? Have you got some mages offering you money? Now, I'm not saying don't take it, but you really probably shouldn't. From mages, not from me. I'm a bard, not a mage.
[He just has magic, and -- look, citizen, it's complicated.]
no subject
jaskier suggests a bath, and cas looks down at his person, giving his own shoulder a quick sniff. maybe the bard's advice isn't misplaced, he had been clinging to a chicken earlier. between that and cat assistance, he's certainly not smelling like roses.
apparently there's that and a good deal of other things he's so clearly lacking this stranger's been compelled to make comment. baffled, he's searching over himself, making sure he'd put on everything that's commonly expected of a human to wear out in public - pants, shirt, shoes, okay. hat? was he supposed to put on a hat? why didn't dean tell him he needed a hat?? there's a moment of trying to examine his own back, and cas nearly pulls a dog-chasing-its-tail before the grabbed hand keeps him in place. ]
Oh, um. My apologies, how embarrassing. [ a beat, and a thoughtful frown. ] Hygiene aside, what other things am I lacking?
[ clearly something that involves commerce, since the bard's pushing money into his hand, but who is he supposed to take this money to now? he'd known the middle ages were more particular on societal demands and appropriate dress for station, but he hadn't been prepared for this. already mired in confusion, he doesn't follow the part about mages any better, head shifting to a bird-like tilt. ]
Does being a bard make your insistence on paying me more trustworthy? [ serious question, and his hand is still hovering there where jaskier put it, flat, coin in palm, outstretched between them, like he's a life-sized ken doll to be adjusted around as needed. ] Is there a service tied to this?
[ is he signing up for something, or did this man just make a purchase from him? what even has happened here. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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?
no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
[ not a term he's used to hearing in reference to dimensions, but he supposes it could be accurate. human science has come to the conclusion that they universe itself is spherical in nature, so the logic follows that alternate realities would be as well.
it's wise jaskier specified cocktail for sex on the beach, or this awkward conversation may of reached a new level, and the confusion is brief before understanding dawns on him, nodding as it hits him. though it quickly returns to bafflement, not quite picking up what jaskier's laying down here. ]
That way? As if I frequently request cocktails from street merchants?
[ excuse, he is not a drunk!! the only time cas reached intoxication it was unfortunate and embarrassing and cost a liquor store their entire stock. still feels guilty about that, the poor owner must've been upset at the completely dry state of his establishment by the morning, but he did leave a pile of crumpled currency and a small bar of gold from the bank vault he'd drunkenly teleported himself into, rather than the Biggerson's next door he'd meant to appear inside instead. drunk castiel isn't the most accurate or dignified representation of the host of heaven, but that's neither here nor there. ]
Yes, of course, your funds will be well spent. Will I find you at this tavern later?
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[They're sort of all the same thing where he's from. At least he has a concept of interdimensional travel. How embarrassing to be a medieval fool who can't grasp the concept. Of course, some people didn't go to university --
He grimaces. There is an extreme emphasis on the literal here that he was not expecting.] I mean, you could, I wouldn't stop you.
[It would be sort of funny to watch, now that he thinks of it.
Huh. He's. Really going to do this?] Well, my good sir, you can find me at any tavern on the right night. Performing, I should add. I'm not a drunk. [Yet.] Though if you do intend to find me, I play most often at a place down that way. [He points from the street he's come from, down towards where a yellow and green sign is swinging.] The Kraken. A rather fine establishment, though it is a pity they don't have cocktails.
[He just. Really enjoyed them.]