[OTA] It's been a long time coming and the tables have been turned.....

[painhumbles]

In the middle of the little walled town (it's a quiet village, you know), there is a donkey. Specifically, there is a pissed off donkey that used to be an archangel. Gabriel, to be honest, has had better days. In fact, he'll take getting trapped in a ring of holy fire while simultaneously being blood-bonded to his crazy ex-girlfriend over this any

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Gabriel the donkey.

[lowlyaraneae]

A donkey, heavens, Loss hasn't seen a donkey for years... Well, he has - but not a donkey that doesn't appear to want to devour everything and finish up by exploding a few worlds that got in the way. This distinction is very, very important.
...Ah, demon donkeys - you've gotta love 'em.

Speaking of the lack of people eating, world destroying terror though... Well, this might be a sneaky demon donkey, almost a ninja (oh, and he does thank Juni for that phrase - when he's busy picking up his demon Oscar he'll be sure to mention her) demon donkey. In short it might be simply hiding its colours - it's happened before after all, and Loss still misses his original arms.

So he keeps his distance, keeps his arms carefully crossed over most internal organs, "my, I didn't know that livestock were here for the party."

DERP. SORRY. MISSED THIS TAG. <33

[painhumbles]

Gabriel stares. Who is this guy even? Sadly, all the wonderful retorts he has to being called livestock are easy to form when all you can do is bray, so all Loss gets is an agitated braying noise.

Yeah, buddy. Keep walking. Nothing to see here.

Just a pissed off donkey with an angel inside it.

THAT'S ALRIGHT! And I'm sorry for taking so long, school <<

[lowlyaraneae]

Ah, a response! Excellent, Loss prefers creatures who can hold long conversations (preferably while reciting Shakespeare, and maybe even juggling) but he supposes he'll take that - his magic doesn't appear to be working after all, and he prides himself on being a oppotunist.

...Well, prides himself at failing to be a opportunist - but that doesn't sound good in conversation.

He takes a small step clsoer, summons up a charming smile, "you look rather angry, but then I suppsoe being a donkey must be very stressful."

Really, it's a miracle that he hasn't been punched a lot more.

[painhumbles]

Staaare. He twitches his ears slightly.

No. Really? You think?

Well, it could be worse. He could be a pig or something. At least donkeys have the benefit of being kinda endearing... In a sense. Pigs are really not good for anything but eating.

...Yeah, count his blessings. Whatever.

[boundtostay]

There is a long-haired calico cat sauntering through the barracks, occasionally stopping to study people with a much too intelligent, green-eyed stare. As she slides out from between two cabins, she catches sight of the donkey, and pauses to stare at him for a second before she beelines straight for him at a jog, sits down directly in front of him, and just stays there, looking at him.

"Already?" she sighs in mild disgust after a minute. "What did you do?"

[painhumbles]

It takes Gabriel half a second longer than it should to process that not only is this cat talking, it's not talking cat, which, well, multilingualism did not just extend to human languages. He could speak cat... You know, if he wanted to.

Whether or not the cat spoke fluent bitchy donkey was another story. I didn't get the part in Midsummer Night's Dream that ends in an orgy, that's for sure.

[boundtostay]

She sighs, the tip of her tail twitching slightly. "Well, that explains everything." She means the comment itself, more than the content of the comment. "A week in and already some of you are down your opposable thumbs. No wonder the fairies always win."

[painhumbles]

Gabriel snorts indignantly. "Or maybe they always win, because you can't beat them." Because this wouldn't be an issue period if that bitch had just submitted to his usually superior archangel might.

...He's arguing with a cat. HIS LIFE.

[mynameonit]

It wasn't a rat. In fact, it's much larger than a rat, and making a lot more noise than a rat would. Nomee shoves her way into a pile of debris, wriggling like a muscly noodle until she vanishes under the boards.

From there Juliet can probably hear her chunnering away to herself, occasionally pausing and sending up a clatter of noise as she knocks things aside or shoves them over.

Things here aren't as interesting as things in the cabins. But everyone is awake. Bah.

[neverinportland]

Juliet was all set to ignore the possible-rat, but she turns back around when she hears how much of a racket that thing's kicking up. She frowns and swallows- if it was one of those creatures from before, it surely would've attacked her by now.

Slowly she approaches the area where the noise is coming from and kneels down, clicking her tongue slightly. "Where are you?" She murmurs.

[mynameonit]

When she kneels, it's an invitation to be inspected in return. Nomee thrusts her head out of the rubble, practically nose-to-nose with the woman, and chirps inquisitively.

Hi there, Juliet.

[neverinportland]

Juliet yelps in surprise and topples backwards a little- undignified, maybe, but dammit, it scared her. She takes a moment to collect herself and then straightens up, getting on her hands and knees to get a better look.

An otter. Well, there was a stream nearby.

"You're a little far from home, aren't you?" She says. Not the most accurate of statements, but she wasn't really expecting to find an otter ferreting around in an old building.

[stumblednotfell]

Castiel is somewhat drunk after his conversation with Dean. This is a good thing. It helps with both the emotional pain and the terrible headache from having been clipped on the head with a chair leg and then knocked back into a table.

It also means that, as he makes his unsteady way through the barracks, he initially doesn't notice the donkey. Or rather, he notices, but it's just a donkey with an angel in it, and he really ought to have a conversation with Sam--

Wait.

It is a donkey. With an angel in it. Specifically, an angel that feels a great deal like Gabriel.

...Perhaps he is hallucinating.

"I may have had too much to drink," he says, staring at it.

[painhumbles]

The donkey with an angel in it stares.

And it judges. ...Not so much for the drinking. Honestly, if Gabriel were in a better mood, that would be cause for celebration, because FINALLY, THE STICK HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM CASTIEL'S ASS. SOMEHOW THROW A PARADE. No, the judgment is mostly because... Gabriel occasionally feels like being judgmental.

:Probably, but it's still me. Can I go home now? I'll take Lucifer over this crap any day.: At least Lucifer would probably just kill him. At this point, death was preferable. He was pretty accepting of his inevitable death.

Being date-raped by a spirit and turned into a donkey were so far down his list of possible fates. What did he ever do to deserve this?

...Except that one thing.

...And that other thing.

And those two things.

And that one other thing. Twice.

...Whatever.

[stumblednotfell]

The donkey is, in fact, Gabriel. Well, then.

...This place is very strange. Also, Gabriel's ears look quite soft. Castiel thinks he would like to touch them, but he also thinks he would not like Gabriel to be angry with him. That never, ever ends well for him.

He will not ask if he may pet his brother. Even if his ears look very, very soft.

:...You were transformed?: he asks. It is better that he doesn't speak aloud, as his brother is a donkey. There would be questions, and he is possibly too drunk to answer them coherently. :Can you describe the being that did it?:

[painhumbles]

WISE CHOICE, CASTIEL. Gabriel really doesn't wanna have to headbutt his kid brother into a coma.

:Some creepy, tall chick with white eyes.: He paws at the ground and snorts and then as something occurs to him, Castiel gets a donkey glaring at him. This is really not a good day to be drunk.

:Don't even think about it.:

Because, really, the last thing he needs is for Castiel to really not understand that reference and wind up a footstool or something. Angels weren't exactly gifted with an overabundance of common sense.

[whateverthemess]

Murphy has her hair yanked back and belted with one of the black leather straps from her boots. They were more ornamental than useful anyway. She's got a folded-up jacket full of nails stolen from collapsing structures and a rock to try and fix up the smithy a bit--do a rough patch of the roof, see if she can't scare up some kind of sealant, and then see about getting the furnace itself back in proper shape.

Granted, she's no master smith, but forging bullets and maintaining a bike means picking up a few things. ...Mostly things that involve a blowtorch. She'll figure it out.

And lo, there's donkey boy. She detours, reaching out to ruffle his ears with a grin. Deal, Gabriel.

"How're you feeling?"

[painhumbles]

Braaaaay. Like a million bucks, princess. What d'you think? He does, however, submit to being scritched, because hnnn. It feels so nice. Yes, he'll be accepting of scritches if he can find some way to make innuendo out of it.

Aren'tcha glad you don't have that animal telepathy now, Murphy?

[whateverthemess]

He would also be glad she doesn't have animal telepathy.

One last ruffle of his ears--what? He makes an adorable little bitty defenseless animal--and she heads for the smithy again.

"Want to keep me company, or are you going to stand there looking like someone spat in your morning mash?"

When you're not-really-human again, Gabriel, she's very much going to regret taking pity on you.

[painhumbles]

She'll never know he was mentally flirting. He can keep a secret. And, hey, if she's offering, who is he to reject an invitation from a pretty lady? ...It's a good thing donkeys can't look sultry or Gabriel would be making those bedroom eyes at her. And then he'd see how far a donkey can get dropkicked.

Spoiler: Probably not as far as one would think. He still had angel powers on his side- what little didn't get cut in half by the damn magic forest. Really, all it meant was he was a telporting donkey that could get a partial staticy read off someone's soul and could probably headbutt you all the way to Bermuda.

So congrats, Murphy. You've got a donkey following you at a steady trot. Well, at least being fuzzy was good at something. Chicks dig tiny animals, bitches.