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PSL for 3_14
Feb. 10th, 2014 06:13 am[So this was the end of the world. Or at least that's what they were saying, now. Castiel had lost access to that specific information already. Though given the situation (horsemen, Croates, Lucifer walking), one could assume it was indeed the end of times.
There were things about mortality that he still wasn't accustomed to. Hunger, thirst, fatigue. These were all things that he was still adjusting to. Things that lead to him pushing himself too far and passing out a few times. He could not longer go days without eating. He needed rest after a few hours. Hours of work meant that he needed to drink something. The sheer amount of work his body now needed was exhausting in itself. Knowing his limits was one of those things he hadn't gotten a hold of just yet, especially when it came to things like alcohol.
He was still getting used to that, too.
It's the end of another long day. Then again, it seems as though each day grows longer and longer. They've spent the day setting up what was once Camp Chitaqua. Helping those who've survived and can at least hold a gun. Their work is far from complete, but the whole group can't seem to push themselves any further than what they need to do for basic survival.
It leads to Castiel and Dean sitting across from each other in one of the abandoned cabins late at night, sharing a bottle of something that burns Cas's throat. The others have gone off, either to patrol the grounds or finally catch some sleep.
The angel (now fallen, he reminds himseslf) doesn't mind, though. At least for now, because his body is starting to go numb in all the right places thanks to the drink in his hand.]
There were things about mortality that he still wasn't accustomed to. Hunger, thirst, fatigue. These were all things that he was still adjusting to. Things that lead to him pushing himself too far and passing out a few times. He could not longer go days without eating. He needed rest after a few hours. Hours of work meant that he needed to drink something. The sheer amount of work his body now needed was exhausting in itself. Knowing his limits was one of those things he hadn't gotten a hold of just yet, especially when it came to things like alcohol.
He was still getting used to that, too.
It's the end of another long day. Then again, it seems as though each day grows longer and longer. They've spent the day setting up what was once Camp Chitaqua. Helping those who've survived and can at least hold a gun. Their work is far from complete, but the whole group can't seem to push themselves any further than what they need to do for basic survival.
It leads to Castiel and Dean sitting across from each other in one of the abandoned cabins late at night, sharing a bottle of something that burns Cas's throat. The others have gone off, either to patrol the grounds or finally catch some sleep.
The angel (now fallen, he reminds himseslf) doesn't mind, though. At least for now, because his body is starting to go numb in all the right places thanks to the drink in his hand.]
