Post by CASTIEL on Jun 12, 2011 19:47:00 GMT -5
CASTIEL
i long to dwell in you forever and take refuge in the shelter of your wings
• • HOPE YOU GOT YOUR THINGS TOGETHER,
hope you are quite prepared to die
FULL NAME: Castiel, Angel of Thursday
NICKNAME: Cas (Dean and Sam only)
AGE: Irrelevant
BIRTHDATE: Unknowable
SPECIES: Angel, Warrior/Guardian caste
GENDER: Male
ORIENTATION: Angel
OCCUPATION: And again, Angel
• • LOOKS LIKE WE'RE IN FOR NASTY WEATHER,
one eye is taken for an eye
FACE CLAIM: Misha Collins
SKIN: Pale, flushes easily
HAIR: Brown and messy
EYES: Very blue
HEIGHT: 5'11"
WEIGHT: 175 lb.
OVERALL APPEARANCE: Tall and rumpled, with messy short hair and a too-intense, too-pained gaze, Castiel ought to be easily overlooked but isn't. In his dark suit, blue tie, and unbuttoned trench coat, he ought to fit in anywhere and actually fits in nowhere because people tend to notice that questing look on his face and the eerie clarity of his eyes. He usually has a bit of stubble on his cheeks because he can't be bothered to do anything about it, same for the rumpled hair. His voice is low, rough and flat but expressive nonetheless.
• • DON'T GO AROUND TONIGHT,
well, it's bound to take your life
LIKES:
- God
- His brothers and sisters
- Dean Winchester (usually)
- Sam Winchester (occasionally)
- Cheeseburgers (in moments of weakness)
- Peace, even for a few minutes
- Free Will, at least in theory
- When people can explain things clearly
DISLIKES:
- This unending war
- Cell phones
- Pornography, it looks painful
- His own questions
- When humor crosses the line into cruelty
- His Father's silence
- The current leadership of Heaven
- The planned Apocalypse
STRENGTHS:
- Standard angelic powers
- His attachment to the Winchesters causes him to stretch himself, to try to understand humanity through them
- Maintains faith in God
- An optimist, as much as an angel can be
- Stubborn, even by the standards of Heaven
WEAKNESSES:
- Angelic blades
- Angel-banishing sigils
- Becoming too much of a free thinker
- Is starting to find things funny. Dangerous, that.
- A lesser angel, far weaker than the archangels
- Conspicuous among humans
FEARS:
- That his Father really is gone
- That he'll question too much and Fall
- Failing the Winchesters
- Failing the World
- That the fact that the last two bullet points came in the order that they did means that he's unfit for Grace
POWERS & ABILITIES: As with all angels, his true form will burn out a human's eyes, his true voice is piercing to the ear. Even while in his vessel he can communicate via Electronic Voice Projection. Can exorcise or kill demons with a touch. Teleportation, including through time. Large occult knowledge, including the creation of Enochian rituals/runes. Healing, memory manipulation, pyrokinesis against objects and lesser monsters.
OVERALL PERSONALITY: Solemn and humorless, dry and sad, totally incapable of taking anything lightly. Castiel is a creature of perfection struggling toward the imperfect, he's trying to expand past what he was created to be and that process is tremendously painful. His attachment to the Winchester brothers is still developing, but he's finding that he has a faith in Dean especially that ought only to belong to his Father and the Host. Angels were never meant for divided loyalty, angels were never meant to choose. Castiel is trying to do both, and it may well destroy him.
• • THERE'S A BAD MOON ON THE RISE,
don't go around tonight
HISTORY: The history of an angel is: he is an angel. Time is infinite, space is meaningless, the orderly flow of events one to the next is a human construct which does not apply to the Host. Castiel was born of his Father's thought, a pure expression of idea. He came to earth and went back home. He served. That was what he was meant to do, after all.
The moment that Dean Winchester made a deal that would land his soul in Hell, Castiel was given the task of watching over the Michael Sword. Watching. Learning. Not interfering. He was given to understand that at some later time he would have a direct connection to Dean, but Castiel moved too quickly. His superiors in the Host weren't pleased that he had made direct contact with the Winchesters, and even less pleased that Castiel had seen fit to give aid in the brothers' endeavors.
And so without warning or notice Castiel was recalled to Heaven and was...made aware of his superiors' displeasure. Hell is infamous for its tortures, but though angels might be less creative in their punishments, they are terrifyingly thorough, and inhumanly patient with repetition.
Now Castiel has been sent back to Earth, reassigned his watch. His brothers never would have put him back here, even on punishment duty, if they had realized how much his recent 'discipline' had eroded his faith in the path the Host travels. No matter how careful he is to tow the line in the eyes of Heaven, Castiel has more questions now than he did before and he's seriously questioning the goals of Heaven for the first time in all his literal eternity.
• • WELL, IT'S BOUND TO TAKE YOUR LIFE,
there's a bad moon on the rise
ALIAS: Briar
OTHER ACCOUNTS: Rin Cooper, Wil Croft, Drew Copeland, Adam Milligan, Ben Crewe, Alastair
EXPERIENCE: 15+ years
WHERE DID YOU FIND US: Caution
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE: It wasn't a nice day out. There wasn't a torrential downpour or a blistering wind blowing or any such extremity, but the sky was gray and the air chilly and damp, there was an oppressive nearness to the clouds that promised rain that hadn't happened yet and the world smelled of asphalt and exhaust and souring pollen. Not a day that most people would choose to sit outdoors on a bench all afternoon, but Castiel neither noticed nor cared what most people would do.
He sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees, head down and staring at the patchy stretch of sidewalk in front of him. Can this be right? Can this be just? These were thoughts he'd never struggled with before. Thoughts he shouldn't be having. This was not his role. And yet here he was, ignoring a useless burning in his human eyes and trying to make himself stop asking why. Trying, and failing. It was not his place to make decisions. It was not his place to judge the Host. And yet...this. This idea, this willingness on the part of his brothers to disregard the last orders their Father had given them. How could it be right? And how could it be wrong?
There was no external cue, no clock chiming or cell phone ringing. But it was time to go, and Castiel knew it the same way he knew nearly everything in his world. The same way he was supposed to know that his orders were right and just. He stood up, shoved his hands into the pockets of his rumpled trench coat, and started to walk. After a half dozen steps, the angel glanced up at the low-hanging clouds. No thunder, no flashes of lightning, just that one upward look and the rain started to fall, hard and cold but scrubbing the air clean of all the dust and pollen and chemicals that had been hanging in it. At least that one thing he could make right.
