sirenspull | Entries tagged with c: castiel

[The first images that appear are fuzzy close-ups of a hand. Calloused, tan fingers, a grass-stained palm, and—ah! He’s been covering up the lens accidentally. Balthazar has never had occasion to use one of these things before, and, already uncomfortable and disoriented, he’s a little slow to learn. Oops.] Oh. There I am. Do I look that bad? Eurgh.

[He does, in fact, look ill; eyes shadowed, skin pale and clammy.] I’ve decided I don’t enjoy pain, except in very small, controlled doses.

[There’s a long pause, during which Balthazar looks like he’s trying to construct a speech, or maybe just keep from throwing up. Or both. He may not be dealing with the shock of arrival very well. In any case, he gives up on profound observations quickly.] However, I do enjoy alcohol, in large, uncontrolled doses.

[His smile is wan.] No, I’m not asking. I don’t take candy from strangers.

[Another pause, with him staring elsewhere, frowning mildly. The questions he really wants answers to--what the hell happened? why am I here? what do I do now?--don't seem to have simple answers. And the question 'who else is out there?' may have answers he doesn't like.]

…So, are there games on this thing? [Beep-boop-boop. Hello, button mashing.]

afallenstar

[ It's only after she's had enough time to fully process what has happened that she addresses the network, sitting calmly in the middle of the field. There are several things that she now knows for certain.

She knows that she definitely isn't in Heaven any more, the most comforting knowledge of all. Somehow, something has managed to assist her in an escape. She also knows that there are family members here, and that's far more concerning. Lastly, she knows that whatever has happened here, she needs to get inside before dark ~~see someone read the signs~~ or all Hell breaks loose.

Still, as ominous as that situation is it's not enough for her to drop her guard, so she avoids any videos for now. It's not that she doesn't trust the idea of other angels being here, she just...doesn't trust the idea of other angels being here. ]

If there's anyone listening to this, some help would go a long way. [ This feels stupid. Still, she presses on all the same, letting out a soft exhale of breath before continuing. ] I've woken up in a baseball field and there are warnings about staying inside during the dark. If anyone could just...direct me to the nearest place where I can keep away from this 'darkness', it would be appreciated.

And...that's all, thanks.

upstairsbrain

[ It's been a long time since Sam's shown his face on the network. Sam's been gone from the Port for a week, but for him-- he thinks it's been much longer. The younger Winchester's checked the date and contacts before coming over the feed, smiling fleetingly, looking, if anything, a bit tired.

He has his soul, but he doesn't know he's been without it. ]

I'm back. [ It's said slightly breathlessly. ] Sorry if I worried anyone. What did I miss?

[ Then, in a sort of mutter: ] ... It's terrible, how quick you forget. How once you're home, all this is gone.

paterelohim

Hi, everybody.

[Sup. Your NVs now have a horrible rotting zombie on them, except about a thousand times more gruesome than those pictures- seriously Walking Dead, with flesh rotting off, part of his cheekbone showing, and a maggot working its way out of his forehead.

Chuck smiles and keeps talking, as if half his jaw isn't gaping open.]

Chuck Shurley here, new manager of Purgatory. I'm here to announce a party on Halloween, at the club. It'll be pretty awesome. Gabriel's redoing the whole inside to make it fit the theme, and it's amazing. We're bringing in musical entertainment from our world - I mean, it'll be an angel thing, but you'll still get to have the full fake NSYNC experience, or whatever.

[He idly tugs on his beard and his thumb pulls through zombie flesh. He doesn't seem to notice.]

Plus, there's transport home provided after dark, if you suck and don't want to take advantage of two-for-one drinks. [Grin. The smile ~~disturbingly~~ reaches his colorless, dead-looking eyes.] Anyone who stays until morning sirens can get a complimentary hangover cure on their way out.

I better see you all there, okay? Happy Halloween!

(OOC: I live in the path of Hurricane Sandy and our neighborhood transformer is a delicate hypochondriac snowflake, so I might wind up slowtagging this for... a few days. Oops. I'll do my best, ilu all.)

reassures

[The first thing you see is a white haired boy with red eyes in a sharp black suit. He shakes his head and sits back.] Ok, now important thing to remember. These shades operate based on thought. So don't go turning-

[His brows come down as he sighs.] No, no. Think text function, and it will kick over to translating your thoughts into words.

[He steps out of view before it clicks over.]

see like that
lets get this ready to go
floors yours

[The person Dave is talking to isn't apparent at first; they don't reply verbally while he's speaking, and a few moments after the video feed switches off, more text appears.]

like this? oh!

is it connected? the network

it needs to go there

fyi third person is not the way to go
its connected to the network
just keep going

what?

[She doesn't really get it, but instead of waiting, she posts the pictures she took of the monster that's been attacking people, but the most important one is this one.]

( heartless picture under the cut )

this thing is what's been attacking people. It attacked me, and I think it might have killed Ino. I dont know who else has been attacked.

Guns dont work on it. knives don't work on it. Im not sure what does. it was so fast

If you see it you need to escape

if you have any information about it
dont talk about it on here
come see us face to face
because crazy idea here
it might be someone on the network thats behind this and anyone can see this info
seems really dumb to blather it all out on here

((ooc; Both Dave and Nill will be replying to people!))

possessing

[Guess who is back.The video clicks on and the network is immediately treated to the dutch angle from hell and screaming. Lots of screaming. From the look of things, Meg has jumped Crowley. In public. A new low for the demon duo of civil war craziness. A crowd has already started to gather and there are sounds of people pitching in unhelpful commentary from the sidelines.]

-of a BITCH! Your sorry little posse dragged me to hell! I was not looking forward to the trip home, you scum sucking little-

Get off of me!

[Crowley, though a pretentious ~~douchebag~~ snob, is an able-bodied fighter -- and he catches Meg with his legs and flips her onto his back, his hands finding her throat.]

Of course I took you back to Hell, you were attempting to assassinate me, disgusting whore --

[Things look nice and vicious from the feed, in fact, Meg’s gone black eyed and she’s just about snarling. She kicks the NV, and it goes off mid action.]

[OOC: Meg is purple, Crowley is red. Responses will come a little bit after the fact.]

upstairsbrain

[ There's a lot going on in the Port right now, but a one Sam Winchester doesn't care. He's only been missing for two days, but he looks as if he's been gone for months. The changes are slight, in his physical appearance. His demeanor, though... is another story. And when he goes to send out a message to his brother, he's not quite put together enough to manage the secure connection. ]

[fail!private to Dean:]

Your NV's still connected, so you've gotta still be here. Right?

[ "It's okay, Dean. It's gonna be okay. I've got him." ]

I went home, for... a while. Now I'm back.

[ There's an understated "Can you come and get me?" ]

integrity

[Crowley is outside, casually flicking chunks of bread at a blue chicken. Said chicken is usually the bane of his existence, as he loathes the little bastard and how it does nothing but shed and ruin his yard, but he seems to behaving himself in regards to the bird today. No insults or attempted slaughtering -- at least, not yet.]

I'm bored. And seeing as people tend to dislike when I'm bored, as it tends to lead to opening lost dimensions or starting revolutions, I thought I would offer a slight puzzle for the public -- and whoever answers first gets a cash prize.

[He tosses a casual grin toward the always hovering NV before he flicks his fingers -- and with a gentle roll of telekinesis, the chicken is sent squarely on her ass with a squawk.]

Riddle one: What is the next number in this series of numbers, starting with -- 6, 14, 36, 98, and 276? And riddle two -- and this one is the real treasure --

[And he rights the chicken with another flick of his fingers.]

Whoever is responsible for the attack that's caused such a fuss is going to get his or her liver removed by my hellhound without anesthetic, for both attacking my pet parakeet and for ruining a good suit. To those who wish to see the spectacle, give me the name and address of whoever is responsible -- and I'll hand over ten thousand dollars, cash.

[Sounds fair, right?]

Cheers.

[And the feed is shut off.]

akirameru

[honestly, Vanitas was far more offended to find his takeout leftovers turned into a box of candy corn last week than he is offended by whatever magic spell's gone awry this week — and the difference here is mostly because this week has brought about the panicking in droves. the sort of thing he could take advantage of, in other words.]

[it's all business as usual, over here.]

How many of you out there are smart enough to be considered scientists? Or doctors? I don't mean those of you who think you're pretty smart because you read a chemistry book once, I mean people who actually have the papers to back it up.

I'm looking for a lot of different information, so I really don't care what exactly it is you study.

[should one feel like opening a video feed to answer Vanitas' question, they'll catch him in a nondescript room he'd taken over for himself — probably a hotel room — with several certain monsters floating about.]

[and should he stand up to walk over to the NV to answer a call, one might notice that he's suddenly just as curvy as the hourglass Unversed around him.]

failedparenting

[John's going exclusively text for the moment, because like hell he's showing anyone his new face. And rack.]

someone needs to fucking fix this fast. its got bad magic written all over it, and the sooner we find the witch that did it the better. it could stick if we're not fast like hell i'm going to go around like this for more than a goddamn day

[He mad. He real mad.]

hostage

[Yay, Jesse's home from rehab. He's not looking much like himself at all, though. The network is spared ten minutes of him checking out his new rack, because he did that off-camera. Now, though... Now is the time for posting.]

Is this my welcome home present?

charmedson

I know there are people here who can heal others using their abilities.

I was wondering if I could get some help learning how to do the same? Being my father's son should mean that I have the capability to do that but for some reason I haven't been able to figure it out.

I know that the way that you heal will probably be pretty different than what my dad can do, but if you have any pointers? He wrote something that I was able to find thanks to my aunt but it's not unlocking my potential.

If it helps, the healing power I'm talking about is probably similar to something angelic. Does anyone have any experiences that could help?

mulletrock

[Dean's stretched out in the bed of a truck, a beer in one hand. The smoky atmosphere's pretty easy to place. It's Mugshots. Since he's off work he has no problem addressing the network for the first time since landing all the gigs that were able to buy him a work in truck that he'll put more energy into as each pay check keeps coming around.]

Before you ask, I don't do holidays.

I don't care what happened with the candy corn or what you're dressing up as. I don't like any of 'em, except maybe Thanksgiving and I still haven't had one of those that wasn't at a jam packed Denny's with cheap slices of microwavable turkey and instant potatoes.

So keep the Fall enthusiasm to yourself. If it were up to me Summer'd last all year long.

[Syrena]

If you're willin' to walk somewhere tomorrow I'll take you someplace nice.

[/Syrena]

Anyone interested in goin' off roading or mudding with me? I wanna see what this baby can really do.

inkyubeytor

_{[When the feed comes on all there is is darkness and the sound of fabric against a microphone. It only lasts a moment however as the darkness suddenly gives way to a view of socks and tights in a sock drawer (one belonging to a certain duck girl), currently being turned into a nest by none other that Kyubey. Amidst the socks he settles himself, reaching out with a paw to knock the NV closer.]}

People come and people go. They live and die and that's it for them. Usually. Well, another version of them will continue to exist in an alternate dimension parallel to the one they originated from, but that's making things overly complicated. The fact is that once someone dies, that specific individual is fated to remain dead.

But that's not the case here.

People die and then return to this place with their memories intact or else they arrive here from having been dead before. I've always found this utterly fascinating, now more so than before.

_{[A little ear twitches as he nestles more into the sock drawer.]}

So tell me! I'm curious. What is it like to die? To truly die. What does it feel like to meet death and remember it? What does it make you feel?

Would you wish to live forever if you could?

momchester

(( Red for John, blue for Mary! ))

[Mary comes on screen looking flustered and extremely alarmed, hair mussed and all over the place, cheeks red. She's tying a bathrobe tighter over a T-shirt.]

That's it. I've had it. [So much flustered outrage!] I'm done.

[John leans into frame, looking more than a little perturbed. His shirt is buttoned wrong and he totally does NOT have sex hair. No sir.]

I could deal with this "machines gone crazy" bullshit until-

[Mary interrupts uncharacteristically.]

Toasters and NVs are one thing, but THIS is-

-It's pretty fucked-up. [John is a bit calmer, if still mildly traumatized-looking.

Mary fitfully pulls her bathrobe shut tighter and launches into what appears to be the start of a rant.]

We don't have enough on our minds, that we have to be afraid of-

[Fin. Someone (John) had the sense to shut it off.]

showbizpanache

[Kurt is at the Community Center, looking well-dressed and businesslike. He has placed his NV in front of him and speaks cordially into it.]

I'm afraid this is a tad belated, but I'd still like to extend my greetings to any and all new arrivals in the Port. I'm Kurt Hummel, assistant director of your Newcomer Community Center, and I'd like to--

[He's cut off by noise and laughter. A group of teenagers can be seen at the window, messing around with the Darkness proofing and attempting to vandalize the Center. Kurt has an unreadable expression as he pulls away and calmly steps outside.

Once he's out there, a gunshot can he heard. He's fired one into the sky.]

GET OUT! YOUR MOTHERS SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOU! GO HOME AND DON'T LET ME CATCH YOU HERE AGAIN, YOU LITTLE--

[They scatter, and he calmly re-holsters his pistol and walks back over to the camera. He straightens his clothes and sits back down.]

As I was saying, welcome. If you have any questions about life in the Port or our status as Newcomers in general, don't hesitate to let me know. Thank you!

comeshonesty

[ the video reveals an older man, thin nearly to the point of being skeletal, dressed sharply in a black suit and with his black hair slicked back. he's sitting neatly on a bench somewhere under a street-light, surrounded by the darkness. he seems comfortable enough with it, though-- it suits him.

there's a silver-headed cane propped against the bench beside him, a drink in a paper cup next to his thigh, and he's balling up the foil from what looks to have been some kind of chili-dog. there's no telling how his device is propped up, because it simply seems to be hovering in the air.

he finally glances up at it, black eyes strange and somehow terrifying despite his relatively harmless appearance and mild expression. long fingers curl around the cup and he takes a sip through the straw before seeming to settle on what he wants to say, his words deliberate and tone even, hinting at no particular emotion beyond perhaps the faintest trace of annoyance. ]

Well. So much for the star that I was rather occupied with. How is it I wind up on this dismal little planet so often.

[ he licks his thumb, setting aside the foil. ]

I suppose I could blame it on a certain significant other--[ chuck, he's looking at you. 8| ]--being rather himself. Or the Winchesters, perhaps, given their remarkable lack of self-preservation as a family. Or the little winged children bickering so much.

[ a pause, gaze lifting again, intense and disturbing. ]

Well. Shall we all coexist peacefully, then, or will I need to turn someone over my knee?

seaphonic

_{[The feed starts with a sickening crack of a clam shell being smashed against a rock, long fingers prying the shell open with ease. The poor clam is scooped out of its shell and eaten immediately before the shell is tossed carelessly away into the sea water. Syrena's hair is wet and windswept and she tucks part of it behind an ear, scraping a nail against the surface of the rock she's leaning on. Part of her golden tail can be seen for a moment as she lifts it up to splash some water on her back before letting it fall back into the sea water behind her.

She seems, if anything, a little troubled. If she is though, it doesn't show much.]}

There is something I do not understand.

_{[She pulls herself up a bit on the rock then, cradling her face in her palms as she stares at the NV, elbows propped up on the rock and her long hair keeping what would be a rather bare chest out of sight for now.]}

There was a ritual held on the beach this morning. A man and a woman were dressed in white clothes and a man who spoke in the name of God joined them together. I do not recall every word shared but their hearts and souls became one and the same. That is what the man in black and white said to the man and woman. There was music and laughter, movement and song. I wished to sing with them but I did not. I stayed silent and hidden.

Their ritual seemed sacred.

_{[She seems a little forlorn at this if not a tad bit jealous of the happiness she'd witnessed earlier, letting her gaze trail away from the NV to the wet surface of the rock.]}

But I do not understand. What was this ritual? Why were they, until that moment, incomplete? Am I incomplete? I was told that I have a soul, but I do not understand what that means. I was told that I was one of God's creatures, but I do not know of God.

I knew nothing of these things until Philip. Even now, I am ignorant.

How can one who does not know what a soul is have one? How would another person know if one possesses one? It is an important thing, a soul, is it not? If it was not, I do not think Philip would have tried to save people's souls.

_{[She rakes her nails across the surface of the rock before looking back at the NV.]}

If I have a soul, what is it to me? I do not know.

integrity

[Crowley is bored. Seriously bored. And when Crowley is bored, bad things usually happen.

This is one of those things.

Also, enjoy a small image of Dean Winchester in the shower before the text actually shows up.]

This is the first annual Siren's Port gossip rag.

Don't you have something to get off your chest?

Comment away and let people know how you really feel.

Item 1: What would you do to the man above if you had the opportunity?

LINKS

[ Namedropping ] [ Best/Worst Couples ] [ Love Thread ~~someone got confused~~ ]

ooc: SO BASICALLY EVERYONE IS A TERRIBLE PERSON FOR ENABLING ME TO DO THIS and I thought it would be hilarious for Crowley to sort of do a Siren's Port based hate meme. Kind of like

acj except totally IC and ridiculously fun. Crowley is going to set up little headers (best couple, worst person, most disgusting moose) and you can feel free to comment anon by putting 'ANONYMOUS' in your header. This is all in good fun and not meant to be mean at all and remember, this is meant to be completely in character, so if you have a do-gooder that wouldn't trashtalk, feel free to have them come on in and tell people they're being stupid. :)

paterelohim

[Chuck looks, in a word, busted. His face is tense and stressed, gelled hair messy from the wind. When he backs away from the NV it's obvious that he's posting from the top of a cliff, and seemingly hasn't noticed that it's almost time for evening sirens. He looks down solemnly, unsure how to make his announcement.]

As of Wednesday, Anna Milton is dead. [He killed her. His hands twist his shirt nervously.] If you were in Sector Four that day and saw a weird flash of bright white light- that was her.

[The smallest tense sigh.]

She's gone, and if there's any mercy left here, she won't come back the way she was. Fred hasn't come back, either, and they're far from the only ones.

[He takes a deep breath and then, a little unusually for him, looks up and right into the camera, silhouetted by the last rays of sunset.]

And there's something I think I need to say. A lot of people wonder what the point is to being here- between this much loss, so many comings and goings, and the constant knowledge that going home means forgetting the Port, you wonder if there's even a point to being here- to trying. Why does it matter, you think, if nothing here changes what happens at home.

[Chuck is making a speech here, but it has an almost pleading note. It's as genuine as it is personal.]

But if you've been here for more than a week, if you've met a single other person here and told them your name, then you've done something. If you've made a friend here or an enemy or looked someone in the eye and told them a truth you didn't think you knew, then you've done something. Maybe the epiphany you had or the feelings you expressed don't last when you go home, but the person you connected with- they'll remember. Even if you vanish tomorrow, you left a mark behind.

I lost people this week who are really important to me- one person from home who needed a second chance, and an amazing woman from a world I'll never get to see. If she comes back she might not know me- I'll never see that version of her again. That doesn't invalidate the year she spent here. It happened, and it matters, partly because she made a difference to everyone she met. She wasn't afraid to really live here.

[He falls silent for a moment, looking out over the cliff-side at the setting sun. It's getting hard to see him now in the twilight.]

Everyone you meet here is in the same boat you are. If you keep losing people here or you learn things about your future you wish you didn't know... Whether you're getting a second chance or if you're someone else's second chance- whatever the case may be, you owe it to the people around you and to yourself to try and do something with it.

Because even if you get sent home and you forget, the one thing you will never be... is forgotten.