He should've known a family reunion was in the books somewhere in his future, Castiel just hoped he'd know when he was walking into it. Too late now for regrets, Michael's here and, per usual, he doesn't seem happy.
Our last meeting? 'Meeting' is a bit docile of a descriptor for what he recalls.
"The... molotov?" Spoken with a slight wince. But Castiel is completely unaware of any other kind of meeting they might've had. Either way, it's not a topic Michael's interested in linger on, and that's probably for the best. Reluctantly, he paces after his brother, standing to the side of the pew and taking in the stained glass.
He's not wrong. They never get the wings right.
"I imagine capturing transdimensional structures composed of pure energy would be difficult in painted glass." He tilts his head, squinting at the depiction more critically. "But they do often resemble pigeon wings, don't they?"
no subject
Our last meeting? 'Meeting' is a bit docile of a descriptor for what he recalls.
"The... molotov?" Spoken with a slight wince. But Castiel is completely unaware of any other kind of meeting they might've had. Either way, it's not a topic Michael's interested in linger on, and that's probably for the best. Reluctantly, he paces after his brother, standing to the side of the pew and taking in the stained glass.
He's not wrong. They never get the wings right.
"I imagine capturing transdimensional structures composed of pure energy would be difficult in painted glass." He tilts his head, squinting at the depiction more critically. "But they do often resemble pigeon wings, don't they?"