CASTIEL

[Castiel]

[app] Castiel [/app]

[app]Full Name:[/app] Castiel, Angel of Thursday. Vessel's name is Jimmy Novak
[app]Preferred Nickname/Alias:[/app] The Winchesters call him Cas, which he puts up with for some reason.
[app]Gender:[/app] Male
[app]Age:[/app] Infinite
[app]Sexual Orientation:[/app] Straight, apparently
[app]Member Group:[/app] Angel, Ophanim
[app]Canon or Original:[/app] Canon

Tall and rumpled, with messy short hair and a too-intense, too-pained gaze, Castiel seems like he should 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.

[app]Face Claim:[/app] Misha Collins

[app]Likes:[/app]

• God
  
• His brothers and sisters
  
• Dean Winchester (usually)
  
• Sam Winchester (occasionally)
  
• Cheeseburgers (in moments of weakness)
  
• Peace, even for a few minutes
  
• Free will
  
• When people can explain things clearly
  
• Trench coats (he's gotten attached)
  
• Brunettes, much to his own surprise.

[app]Dislikes:[/app]

• Raphael and his ilk
  
• 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 way there always seems to be an apocalypse coming
  
• His newfound ability to compromise
  
• Being summoned to fix Dean's problems.

[app]Strengths:[/app]

• 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

[app]Weaknesses:[/app]

• 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

[app]Fears:[/app]

• That his Father really is gone
  
• 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

[app]Secrets:[/app]

• He's in denial about what's happening to him as he struggles to take on powers and responsibilities greater than his form.
  
• Sometimes he wishes he'd finished Falling, that he could be human and free.

[app]Habits and Quirks:[/app]

• Wears the same suit and trench constantly because he sees no reason not to.
  
• Defaults to a formal mode of speech when he's confused or uncertain
  
• Pays close attention to what the Winchesters, the Amhersts, and a handful of other hunters are up to.
  
• Has developed a taste for sweet, light American beers thanks to spending so much time with Dean.

[app]Overall Personality:[/app]

Solemn and harried, 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 ought to be a weakness instead of a strength, 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 has done both, and it may well destroy him.

He's not as out of touch with human behavior as he once was, he understands how to talk and act much better than he used to. The problem is that when he does he feels more human than angel and that's dangerous, so he defaults back to his old, stiff mannerisms when he remembers that he's not supposed to be good at being a person.

[app]Family:[/app]

• The Host of Heaven

[app]Overall History:[/app]

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 studied Dean and his brother from afar for a year and was amazed when he found himself grieving the human's death. Castiel was part of the contingent sent to Hell to retrieve Dean's soul, and no one knows--hopefully no one ever will know--how hard he fought to be the one to wrap his hand around Dean's arm and haul him free of Hell.

He's been following the brothers since, for better or (mostly) worse. Seen their battles, hated their choices, felt their victories. He's sacrificed of himself for them as a matter of course and been amazed when they would sacrifice for him. Fell for them. Been exalted for them. And now he's fighting the hardest battle of his not-life, trying to work out whether he's supposed to let them join him or protect them from it.

[app]Member Title:[/app] angel of thursday

[app]Roleplaying Sample:[/app]

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.

---

[app]Player Name:[/app] Briar
[app]Player Age:[/app] Decrepit
[app]Years Roleplaying:[/app] Long enough to get four masters degrees
[app]Where You Found Us:[/app] Through Devi
[app]Other Characters:[/app] Ed Zeddmore, Adam Milligan, Norah Byron, Jophiel, Zee Kerrick
[app]Favorite Supernatural Episode:[/app] Two Minutes to Midnight
[app]Favorite Supernatural Character:[/app] Castiel, natch

[Devi B.]