One broken angel (homeless, desperately looking, voicetesting)

[betterthisway]

I, I don't really understand.

It would be of better use for me to follow the bees. Listen to the grass. Contemplate... pants, pants are good. Why...

Yes, I agree. Not you. No, of course I know he is not real. The conversation is still.... enlightening... when you say games... Sorry, maybe? Or Twister. Twister would be enjoyable. Even alone, if you insist there is only me. But then we're a few species short, mun.

Mun? Why mundane? No human is munade. You are all... all... although, sometimes boring. But pants. And Twister. So, so there's that, right?

Comments

[frenchfortwelve]

[Just this face.]

[betterthisway]

Balthazar.

Hello.

You look. Alive. I, I mean, hypothetically assuming that you are actually real. I have... I, do you want some honey? I collected it... myself. Uhm. My communication... strategy is not... not... Are you sure you're real?

[frenchfortwelve]

Castiel, is there a particular reason your ape is making you... [...He'll be nice.] ramble like this?

[betterthisway]

I'm...

His mouth shuts, he tilts his head, contemplates then sighs.]

I'm very sorry. For stabbing you. There, I said it, that's better. I think I will be less nervous now.

[frenchfortwelve]

[Stabbing him? Cas, what did you take?]

Apology accepted...?

[betterthisway]

That's good. Killing you was very unpleasant, see? I like you. I just lacked perspective. And bees. Bees are fascinating. Oh, and I have sworn off violence, of course. I do not participate in... in any of that anymore.

[frenchfortwelve]

Fascinating. [No, not really.] If you don't mind, I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around something. You killed me?

[has_a_phd_in_teddybear]

[...He has.. no words.

Because really, Cas? Mind you, you think Dean'd be used to this by now...]

Cas, pants are awesome. Especially on - nobody wants to see otherwise. [A slight shudder at the thought of cas going... like a cupid... ugh.]

And by game, she doesn't mean twister. Not here. she means a place like badfic_manor. But you want my advice? Stick to the headspace, and stick to twister. [Nobody really wants a freaking out crazy angel. Mind you... Dean supposes it'd be better if he was there to help with that. That, and the fact that he can't deny (to himself, at least) that crazy or not, he really kind of wants his best friend in there with him.]

[betterthisway]

I prefer that house over the motel rooms you used to inhabitate, Dean. Less... stains.

[See him avoid thinking about all of this very carefully. Lt's stick to familiar stuff while he puzzles out how to follow Dean (because clearly, he should).]

Do you require more blood?

[has_a_phd_in_teddybear]

Yeah, well, you pay less for stains.

No, Cas, I don't need more blood. That's not going to be something you ask me everytime we talk, is it? [He lets the last question lift, trying to make the question somewhat of a joke, even though it's not, really.]

[betterthisway]

Of course not.

[Now that Dean's pointed it out, Cas can agree that the concept is somewhat ridiculous. It would imply Dean always needs a fallen angel around. Why would he have need of a fallen angel all the time?]

I could make a sandwich.

[See? He's useful, Dean. Somewhat.]

[has_a_phd_in_teddybear]

[No, he doesn't. But he does need the few friends he's got, and Cas is one of them even if talking to him is somewhat headache-inducing if done for too long...

He gives a small smile, as he allows with a nod] That was a pretty good sandwich.

[betterthisway]

It was a very friendly pig. I can make more. Sandwiches, not pigs. I can't make pigs. Are you and Sam going to get Dick soon, then?

[trenchcoat]

Castiel.

[Just listen to yourself.]

[betterthisway]

Hello, me.

[He just keeps smiling. Nothing strange about this at all. Nope. He just leans forward and touches his index finger to the other Castiel's nose.]

Boop.

[trenchcoat]

[Castiel watches himself, but without judgment. He can only imagine the horrors that would have broken the banks of a angel, so whatever is was the man before him deserved respect. Such a powerful creature, lost somewhere between madness and enlightenment, reduced to this.

But for Castiel to see himself this way... it moves him in a way he's never felt before. It's like he feels a certain protectiveness over the man before him, like it's his duty and his alone to ensure no further harm can come to him, but not like he considers himself to be the Winchester's guardian. This feels like he owes it to himself.]

How are you, brother?

[betterthisway]

[Castiel observes himself. Whole. Sane. Missing out on so much. Like bumblebees, and flowers. He can't remember ever having stopped to smell flowers. Or appreciate pants. Or think about the really important things in life. Like monkeys. Castiel smiles and holds out his hand, index finger stretched out.]

Pull my finger.

[He's good. Better. Lucifer almost doesn't trouble him anymore.]

[trenchcoat]

[Cas looks down at the man's finger, then back to his face. Frowning slightly.]

For what purpose?

[betterthisway]

None. Laughter. Surprise. Isn't that amazing? Try.

[latitudes]

…Twister?

[She’s not going to touch upon the pants thing. Or anything else for that matter.]

[betterthisway]

Yes. Twister is a very enjoyable recreational activity. See?

[Yes. Yes, he's demonstrating.]

[latitudes]

[And she’s watching with avid interest. That’s a…lovely demonstration there. Actually, it looks kind of fun. Weird, but fun.]

Never seen this before in my life.

[In her world, anything like these games simply don’t exist, minor things others might take for granted. News, media, food distribution, even curfews are controlled by the government. ‘Fun’ is not a word that appears in their dictionary.]

[betterthisway]

[How unfortunate. Twister and bumblebees and pants are among the best things in life.]

Come try.

[latitudes]

[oh my cas we hardly know each other. ok

Morgan puts out her cigarette and comes to the edge of the mat, kicking off her shoes and following what she saw him doing. Spinning the little spinner. Round and round it goes.]

Left hand, yellow? [Right. She crouches down and places her hand on the nearest yellow circle.] How does this game end exactly?

[betterthisway]

[Castiel spins, completely unaware of anything awkward happening. He watches the little arrow intently.]

Right foot, red. It will likely end with one of us falling down. It will likely be you, though.