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towerofanimus2011-08-31 12:24 pm
thursdaywings.livejournal.com) wrote in towerofanimus2011-08-31 12:24 pm
Angel with a shotgun- wait, he doesn't have one
Characters: Castiel and all of you.
Setting: See under the cut.
Format: Prose or brackactions, I'm okay with anything!~
Summary: Castiel explores the new floors, being socially awkward as usual.
Warnings: TBA.
Floor Thirteen: Cathedral
The house of his Father, or at least, that's what it seems to be. Castiel takes a quick look around, taking note of the murmurs he hears. It doesn't seem like angel communication, since he can't make out what the murmurs are, but they are soft enough to make him feel like he's connected to his brethren again. Taking a seat in one of the pews, he closes his eyes, head bowed and hands clasped together.
"Father..."
-
Floor Twelve: Space
It felt like the beginning of time again, when his Father created the heavens and the Host. Castiel looks up into the dark sky in awe and reverence for his Father's creations, seemingly at peace. He's still aware of his surroundings; he's merely taking the time to praise the Lord in his mind.
-
Floor Eleven: No Walls
Castiel grunts when he feels pressure on his wings, as if an external force is keeping them inside his vessel. Glancing around, he notices the lack of walls on this floor, which, he deduces, could be the reason to his clipped wings. Everything in this room is strange, and the angel decides not to linger too long, unless he bumps into someone on the stairs.
Setting: See under the cut.
Format: Prose or brackactions, I'm okay with anything!~
Summary: Castiel explores the new floors, being socially awkward as usual.
Warnings: TBA.
Floor Thirteen: Cathedral
The house of his Father, or at least, that's what it seems to be. Castiel takes a quick look around, taking note of the murmurs he hears. It doesn't seem like angel communication, since he can't make out what the murmurs are, but they are soft enough to make him feel like he's connected to his brethren again. Taking a seat in one of the pews, he closes his eyes, head bowed and hands clasped together.
"Father..."
-
Floor Twelve: Space
It felt like the beginning of time again, when his Father created the heavens and the Host. Castiel looks up into the dark sky in awe and reverence for his Father's creations, seemingly at peace. He's still aware of his surroundings; he's merely taking the time to praise the Lord in his mind.
-
Floor Eleven: No Walls
Castiel grunts when he feels pressure on his wings, as if an external force is keeping them inside his vessel. Glancing around, he notices the lack of walls on this floor, which, he deduces, could be the reason to his clipped wings. Everything in this room is strange, and the angel decides not to linger too long, unless he bumps into someone on the stairs.
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"Hm."
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