[ it is a trap castiel's fallen into before, especially in those first days that are distant, fuzzy memories to him, back when he first left heaven behind. the angel in him needed to find solutions, fix problems. the longer he's been out here, separated and in near-solitude, the more he's bled back into the creature he was. a creature built to be proud, righteous and overbearing - not immune to the whisper of hubris. his memories of home have faded - dean and the reasons he throw himself from grace. all the invasive feeling that pulled him further and further from the disconnected being he was.
cas watches the fire for a silent moment, the ember glow eating at the wood, the flickering blue and white at the center. geralt's words, reflected back on the past centuries, spark a kick of something defensive in him. which typically means geralt's made a good point, and cas is too full of pride to want to admit it. thankfully, they've had centuries of these quiet talks, and geralt's calm, unassuming presence, that any urge to fight it quickly simmers. ]
I never wanted to be their god. [ spoken like mournful admission of guilt. something squirms in the back of his mind, something long forgotten and suppressed. the way his skin crawls at the thought of a capricious, controlling god. ] If they're going to suffer, it should be from the natural consequences of their world. Not some transdimensional superpower rolling a storm through to answer a prayer.
[ it shouldn't be some foolish, broken creature trying to solve a problem like a bull in a china shop. divine retribution, laughably overkill. mortals are so delicate, he can't understand how they'd keep inviting such horrifyingly powerful things into their world, knowing they can tear through their lives like paper dolls.
hard truths never sit comfortably, and cas needs to move, work loose the tightness forming in his chest. wing bristling and shaking off the discomfort, he crosses around the warmth of the crackling fire to sit next to Geralt, picking up the wooden figure he’d been working on. fingertips trace over the wings with a fondness turning up the corner of his lips. even among the summoned, they'd never quite fit in a traditional sense. with most of his past fuzzy and forgotten, cas remembers that about the two of them. perhaps that's why it's such an easy peace to sit together, so far removed from the enthralling mess of the world. ]
Sometimes I forget time still moves outside this forest, until you stop by with the spring. [ he hands the winged figure back to him, happy to observe the patient skill geralt takes even to idle hobbies. ] What pain have you be keeping separate from them?
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cas watches the fire for a silent moment, the ember glow eating at the wood, the flickering blue and white at the center. geralt's words, reflected back on the past centuries, spark a kick of something defensive in him. which typically means geralt's made a good point, and cas is too full of pride to want to admit it. thankfully, they've had centuries of these quiet talks, and geralt's calm, unassuming presence, that any urge to fight it quickly simmers. ]
I never wanted to be their god. [ spoken like mournful admission of guilt. something squirms in the back of his mind, something long forgotten and suppressed. the way his skin crawls at the thought of a capricious, controlling god. ] If they're going to suffer, it should be from the natural consequences of their world. Not some transdimensional superpower rolling a storm through to answer a prayer.
[ it shouldn't be some foolish, broken creature trying to solve a problem like a bull in a china shop. divine retribution, laughably overkill. mortals are so delicate, he can't understand how they'd keep inviting such horrifyingly powerful things into their world, knowing they can tear through their lives like paper dolls.
hard truths never sit comfortably, and cas needs to move, work loose the tightness forming in his chest. wing bristling and shaking off the discomfort, he crosses around the warmth of the crackling fire to sit next to Geralt, picking up the wooden figure he’d been working on. fingertips trace over the wings with a fondness turning up the corner of his lips. even among the summoned, they'd never quite fit in a traditional sense. with most of his past fuzzy and forgotten, cas remembers that about the two of them. perhaps that's why it's such an easy peace to sit together, so far removed from the enthralling mess of the world. ]
Sometimes I forget time still moves outside this forest, until you stop by with the spring. [ he hands the winged figure back to him, happy to observe the patient skill geralt takes even to idle hobbies. ] What pain have you be keeping separate from them?