Samples; First Person Sample: I am not a work of fiction!
[ An unassuming man in a well-used beige overcoat appears, hair dishevelled and expression distantly sullen. He drops a pamphlet titled, Fictional Realitities and YOU with an air of stoic distate. ]
I am at a loss, I -- [ This wasn't supposed to happen. They'd won and he was going to return to Heaven as the new sheriff, as Dean put it... so why was he suddenly trapped here? ] I'm not supposed to be here.
[ The angel applies a bit too much force to the buttons of his cellphone before pursing his lips, his tone lowering. ]
Although it would appear I am... outside of my coverage zone.
[ Snapping shut his cellphone, he returns his attention to the feed, his expression tight and vaugely perturbed. ]
This device has informed me that I am to participate in a Human Regenesis Program, despite the fact that I am not human. I am expected to believe that these -- [ The man gestures to a pile of books titled Supernatural, as well as a series of video cases. ] Are evidence of my existence is but a figment of a human's imagination, not the Winchester Gospel as I know it to be.
[ Yeah, Castiel's denial might be more than problematic. ]
Third Person Sample: Castiel had entered the ruined structure without question, seeking out his friend simply because he had been asked, and the urgent tone in which the request was delivered gave him reason to feel... concerned. They'd been through much together, he and the hunter. It wouldn't do to abandon him in his time of need now. Not while he is so filled with a sense of mission and accomplishment from having averted the apocalypse, even if it did end with their arrival in this strange place.
Each scrape and stomp of his footsteps echoed as the angel picked his way through the dusty, abandoned ruin of a long-forgotten farm, littered with broken skeletons of rotting, wooden furniture and crumbling brick fireplaces and surrounded at all sides by overgrown, wild fields. Each step disturbed layers of dust, clouds of aged, powdered mortar snaking around his ankles, moonlight filtering through shattered and filthy windows to illuminate every particle suspended in the air.
He listened to the silence that hung in the air for a while, the only sign of life being the way his blue eyes scanned the room, his form rigid and still in the darkness.
"Dean?" Castiel asked into the empty halls. This was the spot, wasn't it? The 'rendezvous point' the hunter had requested? He wasn't able to sense his presence, not by the usual means at least -- those sigils he'd carved into his rib cage worked rather effectively to obfuscate him from even his detection, forcing him to seek Dean out by more traditional means (using his eyes) or ask using more of the modern (using a cell phone). Except those didn't work either.
Castiel turned sharply, alarm etching itself in creases around his eyes as he focused into the darkness, squinting to pick out the form nearly indistinct from the shadow it stood in. The angelic blade slipped from his sleeve, his fingers grasping the hilt easily enough.
Samples
First Person Sample: I am not a work of fiction!
[ An unassuming man in a well-used beige overcoat appears, hair dishevelled and expression distantly sullen. He drops a pamphlet titled, Fictional Realitities and YOU with an air of stoic distate. ]
I am at a loss, I -- [ This wasn't supposed to happen. They'd won and he was going to return to Heaven as the new sheriff, as Dean put it... so why was he suddenly trapped here? ] I'm not supposed to be here.
[ The angel applies a bit too much force to the buttons of his cellphone before pursing his lips, his tone lowering. ]
Although it would appear I am... outside of my coverage zone.
[ Snapping shut his cellphone, he returns his attention to the feed, his expression tight and vaugely perturbed. ]
This device has informed me that I am to participate in a Human Regenesis Program, despite the fact that I am not human. I am expected to believe that these -- [ The man gestures to a pile of books titled Supernatural, as well as a series of video cases. ] Are evidence of my existence is but a figment of a human's imagination, not the Winchester Gospel as I know it to be.
[ Yeah, Castiel's denial might be more than problematic. ]
Third Person Sample: Castiel had entered the ruined structure without question, seeking out his friend simply because he had been asked, and the urgent tone in which the request was delivered gave him reason to feel... concerned. They'd been through much together, he and the hunter. It wouldn't do to abandon him in his time of need now. Not while he is so filled with a sense of mission and accomplishment from having averted the apocalypse, even if it did end with their arrival in this strange place.
Each scrape and stomp of his footsteps echoed as the angel picked his way through the dusty, abandoned ruin of a long-forgotten farm, littered with broken skeletons of rotting, wooden furniture and crumbling brick fireplaces and surrounded at all sides by overgrown, wild fields. Each step disturbed layers of dust, clouds of aged, powdered mortar snaking around his ankles, moonlight filtering through shattered and filthy windows to illuminate every particle suspended in the air.
He listened to the silence that hung in the air for a while, the only sign of life being the way his blue eyes scanned the room, his form rigid and still in the darkness.
"Dean?" Castiel asked into the empty halls. This was the spot, wasn't it? The 'rendezvous point' the hunter had requested? He wasn't able to sense his presence, not by the usual means at least -- those sigils he'd carved into his rib cage worked rather effectively to obfuscate him from even his detection, forcing him to seek Dean out by more traditional means (using his eyes) or ask using more of the modern (using a cell phone). Except those didn't work either.
Castiel turned sharply, alarm etching itself in creases around his eyes as he focused into the darkness, squinting to pick out the form nearly indistinct from the shadow it stood in. The angelic blade slipped from his sleeve, his fingers grasping the hilt easily enough.
"Show yourself."
Additional Information: N/A