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Outside Our Lady of Fandom, Tuesday afternoon

Mildred had come in covered in some sort of plant matter and shrieking continuously. Once Castiel finally managed to calm her down enough to get some sense out of her, he could already hear the fiends gibbering and nattering outside the door. He stuck two fingers on her head to knock her out (it was for her own good, really it was) and headed out the door to confront the enemy.

Which would be why Castiel was prowling up and down in front of the church, smiting vegetables. The church was meant to be a sanctuary, after all. The interior, at least, would be a man-eating-veggie-free zone.

[ooc: OMG, I actually get to use this icon icly. OPEN!]

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Lest anybody roll their eyes when we say that Francine walked to town in the middle of all this without any idea of what was going on, the management would like to point out that she did notice the cherry tomatoes plummeting toward her when she stepped out of the dorms.

She just assumed it was raining them, went back and got her umbrella, and only caught on to the danger when she was halfway into town, heard the gibbering between songs on her mp3 player, and realized they were rolling after her trying to gnaw on her ankles.

All of which meant she was running for the church while beating and stabbing with her now-closed umbrella at anything that looked even vaguely squishy. Castiel not included, but that exception almost didn't get made when she was backing away from an eggplant as tall as her knee and only realized he wasn't an even taller one at the last second. "Oops, sorry!"

Castiel didn't mind. He was used to the confusion of the heat of the battle. "Get inside," he advised. "I'll take care of the eggplant."

"Oka--" Of course, that was when the eggplant decided to leap for her knee. Francine gave it a flaily kick and stabstabstabstabstabbed it with her umbrella.

SPLOOOOOSH.

"...That might not be necessary," she said purpley.

Castiel was mildly impressed with her instincts for self-defense. "So I see. Are you quite alright?"

Francine was mildly impressed, since generally her moves consisted of run, ~~cower~~ hide, and scream, thank you Hot Gym Teacher. "I, um. I think so? Tomatoes were biting my ankles but I can't tell if that's blood or just juice."

Castiel glanced down at her ankles to aid in identifying the red liquid, only to get jumped by a large bunch of broccoli and a head of lettuce the size of a small dog. He dispatched them readily -- with his bare hands, no less -- sending greenery flying into the air.

"We may have to take it on faith that whatever it is is not life-threatening, for the moment."

"I think I'll survive it, yeah." Francine blinked. "And wow." She settled for stomping on a couple of normal-sized tomatoes that came rolling her way.

"I'm more used to fighting demons," Castiel said humbly. "The vegetables required a small amount of adjustment." He nodded to her stomping. "You're doing quite well."

"Um. Thanks! I'm more used to hiding behind people who are fighting things," Francine replied. "I think vegetables might be about my speed."

That was only because she hadn't met the fast ones yet.

"Either way, you're more than welcome to hide in the church, if you need to."

"Thank you." That had kind of been the plan, once the eggplant showed up.

She started to back towards the door when -- seriously? Carrots? Bouncing up out of the ground? Who the heck planted carrots in a...

Francine's eyes narrowed and the umbrella-bashing that followed was perhaps not strictly earned by the vegetables. Even crazy man-eating ones. But it felt damn good.

Castiel watched, one eyebrow slowly creeping upward. "Or you are more than welcome to work out your issues on the vegetables."

So Tyler was not the churchgoing type, unless support group meetings in the basement counted. He was the "go out and fight in the streets" type, which was what he was doing.

He was out of breath and covered in tomato pulp when he pause din front of the church. "I'd offer help but you don't look like you need it," he said, by way of greeting.

Castiel smote a cauliflower almost casually. "I don't, but your offer is noted and appreciated."

That looked like the bastard child of no martial art Tyler had ever seen, and he quit kicking at baby carrots to give Castiel a more respectful look. "Okay, that was cool. Where'd you learn to do that?"

"Heaven," said Castiel, a bit like this should be the most obvious answer in the world.

"Right, of course." Tyler was going to take that tone as sarcasm; either that, or he'd long since quit asking. "Think it'll work on those eggplant?"

There was, in fact, an incoming flock of purple and white Japanese eggplant. Tyler was trying to punch them away.

"I suspect so, yes." Castiel aimed a kick at one of the eggplants, and it exploded when he connected with a small flash of light. "You haven't come to any harm, have you?"

"Nah. I'll probably have to throw out these jeans, but if that's the worst I can say -- this hardly counts as a fight." His eyes slid over to the man. "You?"

"I doubt they'd even manage to draw blood," Castiel said, lashing out at some errant bok choy. "I have rather . . . thick skin."

Tyler was rather efficiently converting a sweet potato to sweet potato puree with his boots. "Plus, they're vegetables. Not exactly the most vicious breed."

The particular sweet potato he was fighting might have missed that memo; it rolled away and snarled at him.

Edited 2009-11-10 20:18 (UTC)

"Their behavior seems most unusual," Castiel noted. "Yet they're not possessed by any sort of demon I've ever encountered."

Tyler tried to shake sweet potato goo off his shoes as he answered. "Oh, you're one of those I-fight-demons guys. I don't have a theory either. I tend to call it Fandom and move on."

Castiel blinked and frowned, then merely passed it off as Tyler's colorful way of referring to angels.

"Then you believe it to be connected to the random bouts of singing and the unusual weather patterns?"

"Something like that," Tyler said. "I've spent ... two and a half years of my life here. Feels longer. I don't waste time anymore trying to figure out why things are the way they are."

Which meant "angel" totally went with vampire and hunter in Tyler's mental grouping of people who fought demons.

It wasn't the worst of mental groupings to end up in.

"I see. I admit, I don't believe I'll give up on the task so quickly."

What? Castiel's been around for thousands of years. Two and a half was totally quick.

Tyler raised an eyebrow, but couldn't say anything for a moment. There were more eggplant to dispatch. "How long do you think you'll spend trying to explain it?"

"Until I find an answer. Or am reassigned."

And a cabbage exploded with a quick jab and a flash of light.

"I really, really don't think there is an answer," Tyler said. "People turn into animals. Regularly. I'm pretty sure that breaks a couple natural laws."

"Yet quite likely obeys some other form of law."

Gabrielle was used to waging warfare with vegetables. She just wasn't used to waging warfare with vegetables.

Staff in hand, and liberally covered with various veggie viscera, she came pelting down the street in front of the church with a small cluster of oversized tomatoes rolling along at her heels. "Tomatoes! Tomatoes always get me in trouble!"

Yeah, she knew what they were. What? It's that Greece.

"Is everyone okay here?"

Castiel nodded. "Just fine. You may take shelter inside the church, if you like."

"No, I'm good. I'm --" Gabrielle lapsed into a momentary fit of spluttering when tomato seeds dripped from her hair into her mouth. "Good. HEY!"

That last exclamation was intended for the tomato that had bounce-rolled up to her and tried to take a chunk out of her calf. Gabrielle spun, brought the end of her staff down hard in a move that was supposed to crush Centaur skulls but she would not be doing any of that, thank you very much, and sprayed tomato pulp and seeds everywhere. Again.

A few more tomatoes went the way of that one, and she brandished her staff at the rest with a warning glare. "I wanted to see if anyone could use some help."

She displayed rather a lot of skill with that thing, didn't she. Castiel stuck a hand out to the side as he watched her, grabbing a turnip around -- well, the stalk, I suppose, the thing didn't really have a neck -- and twitched his fingers. It exploded with a small flash of light.

"I believe I have this area covered, but thank you." He nodded to her staff. "That's an unusual weapon in this time period."

Gabrielle tilted her head and mashed the butt of the staff down on an encroaching bunch of mung bean sprouts. "Three thousand years makes a lot of difference, or so it seems -- how did you do that?"

"I willed it so." He tilted his head. "Three thousand years?"

Man, she'd actually been around before the last time many of Castiel's brothers had even been on Earth.

Yeah. There was this whole stupid Twilight of the Gods thing that was a long way off for Gabrielle yet.

Suffice to say she assumed he was one, or a demigod at least, and didn't really trouble herself much more about it.

"So they tell me," she said with a brief pause to bat away a flying eggplant. "The Roman Empire is still in power where I come from. When I come from."

"And not yet inundated with Christianity," Castiel noted. An interesting time period, to say the least. "Do you know how you came to end up here?"

"There was a portal," Gabrielle began, only to have to pause for a moment and turn an overambitious gourd into pulp. "And the god of war. It's a long story and I tend to get more -- excuse me -- stop that! Stop it! Stop!"

She wasn't telling Castiel to stop. That order was for another tomato that had no choice but to comply, now that it had joined the mass of pulpy goo. Ew. ". . . it's hard to tell while I'm being attacked by plant life."

"You mean Mars?" It was a fair enough question, she had just mentioned the Roman Empire. Castiel watched her dispatch a few more vegetables. "Ah, yes, I guess we'll have to discuss it later."

"Ares." Gabrielle batted a howling soybean pod away. "I'm from Greece. Gabrielle, by the way, nice to meet you."

You'd think she was used to meeting people under these circumstances.

OH WAIT.

Castiel dispatched a pumpkin, turning the bottom edge of his trench coat orange. "Castiel. Pleased to meet you."

"Nice name," Gabrielle replied. Pleasant even in the middle of a fight, this one, and smiling brightly at him as she flipped the end of her staff up over her shoulder at a towering stalk of celery. "Do you do this often?"

*Twitch, grab, SPLOOSH* "Not recently, no. And not vegetation. You?"

"I think it's safe to say that this is a new experience." Gabrielle grinned; it was only vegetables, so she didn't have any compunction about the squishing. Later she might change her mind, but for now . . .

"It'll make an interesting story later, once I get a bath and have time to write it."

Castiel perked up a little. "You're a writer."

Hey, once a fanboy. . . .

. . . always a fanboy. Gabrielle would learn this someday. The hard way.

"A bard," she said with no small amount of pride. "Stories should be written down, but some are really meant to be told aloud."

Castiel nodded vigorously. Well. Vigorously for him. "You're quite right." He lashed out to eliminate a very hungry carrot. "I would enjoy hearing one of yours, some time."

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Outside Our Lady of Fandom, Tuesday afternoon

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