abraxaslogs | (open) ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ʙʟɪɴᴅ

[ cas wastes no time getting back to his domain in the horizon, and after the initial introductory period, the space seems to remember him well. Here, Castiel’s always in his token accountant suit and oversized, tan trench coat, with crooked blue tie.

Find him milling about the gardens, tending to the bees, eyes soft and smile kind as they buzz around him in a happy cloud. He doesn’t wear any protective netting, and doesn’t appear to be suffering any consequences from it either. Metaphysical dream bees are pretty chill.

Elsewhere, in a wide, open greenway of the park, Castiel’s summoned himself an oversized checkers board, and appears to be in deep strategic thought for his next move, while his opponent, the resident dream cat - a large, fluffy, orange tomcat - impatiently licks its butt. You could almost swear you hear it say "hurry up, dumbass".

Another time, Cas might be found deeper into the trees and bushes, tending to the old, stone chapel, dusting off the pews and altar, or watering the bushes and flowers bordering the exterior. ]

Edited 2022-12-01 23:06 (UTC)

[ the slaying of monsters wasn’t the first thing castiel had in mind when he accepted a finely crafted spear from the guardians of the woods and entered the hunting grounds. There’s plenty enough of that back home for him, and others here seem to have it well in hand. Moreso, he’d wanted to explore, catch a glimpse of these new and fantastical creatures in their mystifying, foreboding habitat.

So, like a horror safari.

Moving at a slow, silent pace through the trees and foliage, cas is able to watch a herd of fisceime from a distance for a time, until the raucous crack and slam of a torcainse up-rooting a nearby tree scatters them.

Later, when Cas finds an outcropping of boulders to settle himself onto and simply wait for local wildlife to wander by, a cyfaill comes to investigate him, buzzing happily around his head, landing on a shoulder, and scampering down over his arm and onto a hand. Not even allowing a breath to stir him, Cas does his best impression of an indifferent fern, letting the insect toddle around, leaving a bit of its sugary, green goo behind, before it flutters off. Of course, with the sweet scent of it and honey-like consistency, the angel has a taste of it.

The happy, floating high it leaves him with is perhaps not the best state for being alone in a dangerous, predator infested wood. When he lastly stumbles on a deeply hibernating dreunania, and takes to plucking some flowers and herbs, the gealaci kucing stalking him from tree branches above, goes entirely unnoticed. ]

[ There are a few reasons Ciri's pleased that Nocwich has decided to give them access to Oleuni Square and the surrounding areas more frequently. Among them are the fact she likes the weather here, and it gives her a good opportunity to enjoy the cold and the smell of real, proper trees. The sight of them too, even if it is always dark. The Square itself has plenty of enjoyable places too, the spa and hot springs, at least one tavern where she's found the werewolf ale suits her tastes quite well. But the hunting grounds is still one of her favorites (tying into the whole tree thing as well).

She likes the quiet. The hunt. It is an almost meditative endeavor, relaxing to her even as she keeps her sense on high alert, fingers ready to pull back her bowstring at any moment. She's been enjoying getting more practice in with a bow, too, considering she doesn't use such a weapon frequently. She might even buy one, one of these days.

Despite the recommendations of the hunt organizers that she find a partner to hunt with, Ciri has been here alone a few times. Often, she prefers it. But she's not against teaming up if she finds someone either in need of assistance, or someone she knows.

This time, she stumbles upon both in one. ]

Castiel.

[ Ciri calls out, voice soft. She's in the shadow of a nearby tree, bowstring taught, fletching just brushing her cheek. ]

Hold very still.

Ciri?

[ Cas snaps up, flower he'd been picking clutched in his hand. He whisper-shouts to her while squinting through the dark, far less sneaky than he thinks he is. There she stand, bow drawn, looking very intense and hunterly. Were Cas less blitz on magic insect goo, the immediate danger might've been apparent to him, but sadly, this is not the case. At least he's confused enough to stand still, head at a curious tilt. ]

What are you—

[ seeing it's opportunity to strike rapidly passing, the creature in the trees pounces, springing from the branch it'd been delicately balanced on and launching towards Castiel's shoulders, fangs bared and razor claws reaching for the kill. ]

[ Castiel’s never been comfortable with idle time, least of all when there’s help he could be giving. The central Cadens medical facilities often finds Cas volunteering, either taking care of libertas victims still on the mend, or lending a hand with new patients and emergencies.

Though common colds, allergic reactions, arthritis, and strange new lumps take up most cases, occasionally something dire and immediate will grace the clinic, and this is where it gets dangerous for him. Any other year of his life, healing wouldn’t be such a tax, just a simple tap on the forehead, or a glowing hand hovering for a few seconds. but as of late, castiel’s running on borrowed grace. It’s finite, non-renewable, expiring. The more he uses it, the faster it depletes, but what’s he going to do, letting anyone die in front of him, when it’s within his immediate power to stop it, is not something he’s capable of.

Thankfully, we haven’t seen one of those yet today. Just the average, walk-in clinic fair. Cas gauges temperatures, examines ears and throats, eventually lingers a touch for a moment or gets a decent sniff and knows what they’re dealing with before the pantomimed actions finish out, but he’s found humans like to see a little effort put into an examination before a diagnosis is spit out. Preferably, one they understand. That’s the part that usually gets him.

One patient in particular stumps him, and Cas wanders out from a curtain to question a passing co-volunteer. ]

How would you describe hypertension to a man who doesn’t understand the concept of arteries?

[The academic year has ended at the Cadens Academy of Medicine, and Nadine passed with very respectable marks. She has two months off, and could be using that time to relax or enjoy being idle, but she has no interest in doing that. She's a practicing healer and apothecary, she can't just take two months off. This early in her education, she needs to keep her skills in practice.

Hence volunteering at one of Caden's esteemed hospitals. They're always welcoming to volunteers from the academy, and Nadine herself is starting to be known in the local medical community.

She pauses when one of her peers pops out from behind a privacy curtain.]

Oh! Hi. Uh...when I run into a patient that doesn't have a great understanding of how their own body works, I usually try and explain it like I would to a child. Without sounding pedantic or condescending, which...can be really hard sometimes.

[ bedside manner wasn't something they taught in angel school. customer service at the gas-n-sip, though cas was an ace with it, extended to selling lotto tickets and slim jims. this is turning out a little more difficult than anticipated, but familiarizing himself better with all aspects of humanity remains a goal.

thinking nadine's advice over, he's careful in considering how to put this. according to others, he's often come off condescending or 'holier than thou' (hurr hurr) without meaning to. interpersonal communication between humans seems to be a fine and subtle art. ]

If I were to say... 'the force your heart is exerting to pump blood is concerningly high, and I'd advise reducing salt and red meat in your diet, while adding fruits, vegetables and regular exercise to ease the stress put on your heart', does that sound pedantic?

[ a worry line forms between his brows, waiting for a verdict. ]

I don't think it sounds too condescending. But you can never tell with patients, some of them swear you're talking down to them no matter what.

[Nadine's run into her fair share of those. It's as some people are just convinced the medical community is out to get them. Apparently some things never change.

But what can they do? Much as she'd like to literally shake sense into those types, there's nothing to be done. Except complain about them later and give them A Look when they inevitably end up needing further medical attention.]

And there's nothing you can do about them. They'll do what we advise or they won't, we can't make them listen. Which is frustrating as hell, I know. Just try and remember you can only do so much. It'll really get you down otherwise.

[They warn against it in every class Nadine's taken, how getting too involved and shouldering too much responsibility burns a person out. And god does she understand that.]

[ the frustrating thing is he could just fix it. If he had the full depth of his Grace, it would only take a soft smack to the forehead and the man’s blood pressure issues would be taken care of. At least for a while, before it builds back up.

As he is, trying to cure every patient he sees would have him utterly drained and spiraling into a sickly decline by midday. Best to save his powers for the most critical of cases. Were he to loop Dean into the issue, Castiel’s sure he’d order him to stay away from the clinics entirely, but standing by when he could be helping has never been his forte. ]

As “they” say, you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t force it to hydrate. [ a beat, Castiel’s eyes thoughtfully on the ceiling, and he mutters. ] Though, I suppose you could with an IV, or gastrointestinal intubate.

[ then, abruptly adding - ] But, we would not violate patient rights by forcing fluids on them. [ no matter how freaking stupid they’re being about staying alive. ANYWHO. ]

Thank you, Nadine. Have your patients given you much trouble today?

Sometimes I sure wish we could, though.

[A wry chuckle. Some patients were...very trying, to put it kindly. Nadine just complains about them later and accepts there's only so much she can do.]

But no, nothing more than the usual. Every so often I get a weird question or two when they realize I'm 'that Summoned healer', but I've gotten used to that. And I'm not nearly the novelty I used to be.

[Even with the horns, which also garner an invasive question or two. But deflecting questions she doesn't want to answer is a long-honed skill at this point.]

Another year and I won't be a novelty at all.

[ Not all ventures into the hunting woods Cas takes are of the same Attenborough narrated safari vibe as the first he took. Today was more about the hunt than observation, and turns out to be the messier of the two. Robes covered in mud, monster goo, and blood, Castiel straight up reeks. Naturally, this brings him to the hot spring.

However, our angel boy has not watched a single cute hot spring episode in his life. He only sees a pool of water, occupied by bathers, and assumes it’s for the same kind of washing off any lake or stream would be.

He makes it nearly to the edge of a pool, still dressed in his disgusting clothes, boots, and hunt-related grimey fluids, a short, blond-haired woman (in the correct attire for this activity) crosses his path, snagging his attention. ]

Jo Harvelle. I trust your time in the gambling den was profitable?

[ The morning had gone well enough. She woke up, went in, and did what she intended to—padded her pockets nicely among strings of winning and losing streaks that made it look well enough like she was getting lucky, more than being skillful enough to decide when losing where and what looked better at. If this were going to be a repeat event, whether monthly or bimonthly, she'd long game it when it got there.

Even if she's not entirely copacetic with this whole communal bathing thing, the hot water had won her over. A fact she was sinking deeper, and deeper, and deeper into, just about having managed to tune out any of the nearby voice -- which is when her name gets said, and her eyes snap open finding that familiar voice, face, pers— angel.

Jo shifted far too fast, upsetting far too much water, to make moving to cross her arms and cover herself look anything like smooth; the time spent in hot water has already lent a rosy hue to her skin, so at least it probably doesn't look like she's flushing (or it seems like she has been the whole time). And anyway, her eyebrows are shooting high just as fast while taking in his blenderized state.

Oh. God. And that smell. ]

Cas — Woah — what are you doing?

Edited 2022-12-03 23:02 (UTC)

Um. Bathing, I'd hoped?

[ A beat as the water sloshes around Jo when her arms rush to wrap over her chest. An old man bumps into him, in all his nude glory, to shuffle out of the pool, and it all clicks. ]

Oh—

[ Everyone's naked, huh? Including Jo, and Cas jerks his head up, eye line now somewhere 5ish inches above Jo's hair. ]

Is disrobing a non-negotiable requirement?

[ Not that Cas feels any level of embarrassment, it's hard to with a body that isn't really yours and has no reflection on your actual being. But it's just a hassle, you know? Getting dressed, getting undressed, washing your clothes separated when you could just do all of it at once. ]

Not terribly efficient.

Uhhhhh, yeah.

[ The word snaps, even as Jo does a sharp and level best of continuing to stare at Cas, and only Cas, absolutely not looking at the guy's ass who nearly walks into him. Or his back. Or the fact. Yeah. Yeah. Walking covers nothing around here, and Jo's mouth might be turning an unpleased line again. And she'd been so close to relaxing. Instead, hackles follow on that first snap. ]

You are not getting in here like that.

[ Jo's not sure she wants him in here at all, but she doesn't get to dictate this weirdo werewolf bath house thing. One arm stays covering her, how ineffectual as the whole thing feels, given what her arm can and can't cover, given what the water probably doesn't at all, aside from some bare froth here and there caused by the steam. She points awkwardly. ]

Go rinse off over there, like every other sane, rational person.

Edited 2022-12-05 00:55 (UTC)

[ He is not getting in here like that. A younger Cas wouldn't have qualms arguing with her, or completely ignoring the command, but this one's more interested in social harmony. In some form of peace and perhaps even trust with Jo, though that's clearly a long road.

Shoulders slumping in what might be called petulance, Cas stalks off towards the showers Jo directs him to. The rinse isn't a bad idea, and Cas might've taken advantage of it, if he'd bothered looking around first. His clothes do come with him into the shower (not planning to leave without them washed off), and find a place to dry while he heads back to the pool, appropriately bare assed now.

There isn't a concerted effort to sit next to or even nearby Jo when he returns, nor is there much option otherwise. The hot spring is a popular destination, and the patrons that watched him almost bring monster guts into the pool with them aren't keen to have him in their water.

With an apologetic awkwardness, the angel eases into the steamy bath with at least a few feet from her. ]

The effects are more enjoyable this way, I suppose.

[ Jo watches him turn to go, a little exasperated, but most of it evaporates as his shoulders just slump and she wants to shake her head. She knows, personally, and from others, and from just being around him in short jags that he takes a lot of things far more literally than everyone else.

But it shouldn't be that hard not to drag monster entrails into bathing house water, right?

Call it complicated loyalty, but Jo glares daggers at the people that squirm further down the wall to get away from Cas—newly not guts covered and without clothes, with involves some mental-visual jumping jacks to stare across/past him without looking at him as he's getting in. He's family. She can yell at him for being an idiot. Other idiots being idiots, especially when he's following the orders, can fuck the fuck right off.

It's not exactly comfortable, but she's not about to shift away even an inch after watching the idiots and knowing he saw them just as clearly as her. ]

That's supposed to be the point. Even if the whole communal thing is a bit weird.

But you try to relax and ignore that. [ Jo might not be doing a good job of either of those, as she's still making a point of making direct, unwavering eye contact with anyone whispering and looking this way. ]

[ Cas doesn't miss Jo's evil-eyeing of their judgmental, temporary co-habitants, nor does he miss the way they squirm under the gaze.

so intimidating is her stare that several of the other spa patrons decide they've soaked long enough and it's time to get on with their vacation, grabbing at nearby towels and scurrying out of the water.

while part of him feels bad for ruining their hot spring night, the rest is touched that jo, who hardly has much reason to be fond of him, would come to his defense in such a way. a soft smile touches his lips, as retreating strangers send the water sloshing. ]

You are truly a force to be reckoned with, Jo Harvelle.

[ but they'd already known that, back home. there was never doubt in his mind about either of the Harvelle women, even for how briefly he knew them.

He sinks back, against the wall, glancing at Jo from the corner of his eye and trying to mimic however she's managed find her chill in this place. ultimately, not the most successful. ]

Relaxing never was a talent of mine. Any tips?

[ Jo doesn't have any sympathy for the people who've first moved away, and some of who are now abandoning the hot springs. Good riddance to bad rubbish. There's an odd twitch to her mouth at the words Cas chooses. As though glaring at someone is a genuine threat. It was something her mother used to scare people off with. A lot of them because they knew she could back it up by kicking them out or just by the sentiment of her own skill.

As if those thoughts never circled her ankle or neck like a chain
under the hot, rippling water, Jo said in a self-satisfied way. ]

And don't you forget it.

[ As to the rest, Jo cracks an eyelid, with mentally crossed fingers that he's at least stayed in the same place and she's not about to end up with more in her vision than is necessary. But he's still sitting there in the water. But. That's. Well, that's all he's doing, too. Sitting there ramrod straight, like this happens to be a different kind of chair with water. ]

Maybe close your eyes? Or sink in a little further, and let it get over your shoulders.

[ It's weird, but thinking about what brings her to a question, and it's weird. Because it's not exactly things they'd ever been near each other enough to talk about back home, and it edges things she still finds not exactly right. ]

[ as instructed, cas sinks down a little further, lets it get over his shoulders, and the warmth seeps into the tension in his arms and neck. funny, these things he usually electively ignores in his vessel, but there's something to be sad for a relief of physical ailments.

unbidden, a sigh slips from him, chest deflating and eyes lightly closing. never let it be said that cas isn't great at following instructions to a T. his limbs turn into noodles, weightless and drifting side to side with the water. ]

I'm beginning to see the appeal.

[ it's spoken half through bubbles as he slips into a slump in his seat, speaking to jo with heavily lidded eyes that don't track her next to him. ]

It's unfortunately Hunters don't regularly have access to such means of relaxation, considering the higher risk for muscle injury and tension.

[ Jo cracks her eyes open again at the sigh. A pale fringe of lashes, still mostly touching, her head hooked barely back against the edge of the pool, trying for all the world not to be insanely self-conscious even as she has to appreciate that this time he's actually starting to get it right.

She'll try not to laugh at the fact he looks like he's turning to putty. ]

Pretty sure they still got bathtubs wherever in the future.

Admittedly not as great as this. I like that this water doesn't seem to get cold ever.

Mh. [ is the distant, lazy agreement of appreciation for the ever warm spring. steam soaks into his cheeks, castiel's skin flushed and feeling delightfully at ease. ] Somehow, I imagine this greatly surpasses the economy sized, grime stained bath tubs in the Motel 6.

[ he imagines they'd fair much better with customer satisfaction if their baths were anything like this. perhaps that should be submitted on their customer comment cards. if cas remembers how to think again after this wonderful, foggy, mushy-brained feeling, maybe he'll do something about that. ]

I enjoy the size. It accommodates the need to stretch out. Not so tightly confined. [ as he mentions it, cas stretches out his limbs, pushing his feet out far and arching his spine as his arms do the same. unconsciously, he bumps one of Jo's hands with his, but isn't alarmed by it, just allows the brush mindlessly and lets his arms fall limp again at his sides. he settles back against the rocky wall behind them, as if it's the only thing holding him up at this point. ]

[ Jo briefly tenses up at the contact, but Castiel is literally the last person she thinks would be making a move in the middle of a hot spring he's only just beginning to understand. If anything, it's an extension of his jelly-fishing under the water. His body succumbed to the siren song of the piping hot water just like every other body already in here. She decides not to move. ]

Fair. Tiny bathtubs do kind of suck.

And you never know what's been done in a hotel bathtub before you get there.

[ There's not enough bleach in the world (or personal belief anyone charging that low a room cost is washing one that close between each set of people) to make her take a bath in one for anything more than the necessity of self-triage. ]

[ it is the jelly-fishing rather than move making. Cas living that relaxation life, committing fully, as he’s won’t to. ]

Ah, yes, of course. A motel bathroom in Wichita, Texas had clearly contained recently deceased corpses.

[ in case you needed some extra relaxing hot springs conversation, Castiel is here to deliver. ]

Either the murderer or cleaning staff washed it liberally with ammonia, but they missed the crevice between the tub and tile.

[ good ol’ angel super nose, here to tell you when you’re bathing with dead people particles. ]

[ Jo's eyebrows went up and combined into a crinkle of ludicrousness before her eyes opened, even as they each happened in circuit order. The last only opened back to two-thirds of the way, like she had to see if he was being serious right there. With that.

But he's still lying out in the water. Body-shaped blob, she was still doing her best not to look at so closely as the water made it far too easy to do from this close. The WTF of his mouth made it easy to stay on his face, beleaguered rejection of his necessity to throw things like that randomly out of his mouth.

Perhaps it was doubly good the people had all left. ]

Seriously?

Edited 2023-03-27 01:49 (UTC)

Yes?

[ Cas answers with dubious confidence. he blinks, then levers himself up from the water a bit to look over the jo. no eyes drifting south, just finding her face with knit brows. ]

Why would I lie about motel murders?

[ it does, after a beat, occur to him that bathtub corpses are not the most relaxing topic, and now that he's sat himself up, the spirit of refreshment and rejuvenation has left him. ah. ]

Did I ruin the relaxation?

[ The guy's—angel's—face is a problem.
From murder and body ditching to stricken concern. ]

You're kind of hopeless, you know?

[ She says it light, no judgement, letting her eyes close and leave the puppy face of sudden confusion behind her eyelids. ] No, body disposal is not usually the kind of thing you discuss in mixed company with normal people like it's normal.

[ Which isn't saying it's not normal,
but she grew up in a bar with nothing off-limits.
Who still didn't talk about this with them inside it. ]

[ On his exploration of Nocwich, Cas finally arrives at the hot springs, either not taking notice of the minimal dress code, or not caring. After enjoying the ambient steam cloud, Cas steps directly into one of the pools, clothes and all. Pacing until the water engulfs him, he sinks down to sit at the bottom of the pool.

For a long time. For too long of a time. Five minutes, ten minutes, more pass, and he’s yet to come up, no trail of bubbles rising from the depths around him. If one were to duck underwater and take a look, he’s seated cross-legged at the base of the spring, eyes closed, as if meditating. He’s living his best life, don’t mind him, just... watch where you step?

In a flurry of bubbles and patrons trading out spots, Geralt, tragically, misses what’s lurking in the depths. His foot hits a shin, knee hits a ribcage, and Castiel’s tranquil meditations are rudely interrupted by face level witcher crotch. Just a passing glance, nothing scandalous, but it does cause a new stream of bubbles and some flailing underfoot. Hopefully Geralt’s not so exhausted he can’t dodge a couple stray limps as Cas tries to find up from down and bring himself to the surface again. ]

Geralt. [ Cas eventually stands, straightening his soaked clothes. Ahem. ] Good evening.

[ Springs and bathhouses are aplenty on the Continent and this sphere alike; there are expectations when entering the water which are as follows: one, the majority if not all of one's clothes are removed; and two, one's head should remain above the surface, unless drowning.

So no. He isn't watching where he's stepping, because there shouldn't be anything for him to watch in the first fucking place. Except there is, and it's startling enough that Geralt gives an audible grunt of surprise. He backpedals immediately, at first concerned he's either crushed an injured animal underfoot or awoken a lurking creature who might proceed to latch its teeth onto his leg. Both are possible, given the trajectory of his life.

It's neither. Instead, it's...

What—

Why is. Also, since when? Hasn't Castiel been— ]

What the fuck.

You'll have to be more specific.

[ What which fuck?

However, the scolding glances of patrons eying him like he's performed some manner of sacrilege offer a decent enough clue. The awkward half-wave Cas attempts clearly isn't cutting it for amends with the locals, and he ducks his head, sheepish. He'll have to be better about looking for posted rules in the future. ]

I've always found submarine meditation the most peaceful. [ A mumbled, apologetic admission. ] Unfortunately, Cadens has little to offer in bodies of water.

[ This. Is not quite how he meant to begin his soak. Geralt gives Castiel another squint, uncorks the bottle he's brought with him, and drinks. ]

Next time, try the ocean. [ Look, Geralt is the last to enforce societal norms upon another; if Castiel wants to submerge fully clothed in peace, he's more than welcome. He'll just have better luck in the sea by the shores, where folk aren't stepping around for their nightly relaxation.

Geralt finds a natural jutting rock to set his drink upon, then leans back, one arm resting on the ledge. ]

Didn't realize you'd returned. [ He's missed that bit of news, clearly, but he and Castiel have often only peripherally interacted. It's mostly on Geralt—give him an equally taciturn companion, and chances are no one will start the conversation. Doesn't mean it isn't good to see the angel again, even if it raises...questions. About the Singularity. ] At least I needn't introduce myself a third damn time.

[ Well, none of us are quite enjoying the soak as much as we'd hoped to now, are we? ]

Right. Less crowded, I'd assume.

[ Probably not as cozy as the hot springs, but less people to step on him. He might've even found some curious new sea life. Shit, really missed out on that one. Cas makes a mental note to go to Geralt for meditation destination advice in the future.

But since he's here, and Geralt apparently isn't bothered enough to give up on his bath, he may as well stay and catch up. ]

Yes, apologies, I heard about the amnesia. Apparently it's reversed now. [ A tired sigh slumps out of him, and Cas appreciates Geralt making little ceremony of it. What the magic of this world is doing, it's been a fucking hassle to detangle, and a utter mystery in why it's fixated on playing with his memory. ] Perhaps it's angelic physiology that doesn't mesh with the Singularity's magic. Have you experienced any memory lapses of late?

[ Geralt is, in fact, full of advice for meditation destinations. He has a list. He'll share if Castiel asks.

Geralt eyes Castiel, vaguely mystified that the angel's so at ease in soaking wet clothes, but not enough to ask after it. ]

Possibly. No one knows fuck all about the Singularity. [ It's unstable, that much is certain. Tearing rifts into other worlds will do that, if it wasn't already deteriorating on its own. Hard to say.

He shakes his head. He's received memories. Not lost any, though. Wait— ] What do you mean? Reversed?

[ He's assumed, well. That this is Castiel, as Geralt most recently met him. Just returned after yet another disappearance. It's not yet occurred to him Castiel remembers their first introduction, but not their second. ]

[ he's just being efficient, ok?

fuck all knowledge about the singularity is a frustrating truth, one Cas would love to get to the bottom of. he suspects that may take some interaction with someone from Thorne, at this juncture, but that's a problem from another time. ]

Angels are more light waves and energy than corporeal, and we don't always experience time, or space, linearly. It'll be interesting to see how my brothers' memories fare. [ dean informed him about lucifer and michael's presence, though angel radio's been silent. probably just as well, none of them have anything nice to say to each other.

receiving memories, cas has heard about, but none yet with his particular issue. ]

Well, I remember you dragging me bleeding from the street during the last dimming, but none of my conversations last month.

Edited 2022-12-31 20:17 (UTC)

[ Fortunately for Castiel, Dean has both (attempted) to explain the angels, and given Geralt a tome to fill in the remaining blanks. Of which there are many. So he understands when Castiel says brothers—though he does blink when he realizes Castiel used the plural. Who is—?

No. Fuck it. He doesn't need nor want to know. He came here to relax for at least one hour. Perhaps even two.

Geralt takes a drink. A long one. Then he regards Castiel for a moment. The Dimming. Last winter? A concern, that gap, but it's one he already knows can't be solved by a conversation in the hot springs.

Instead, he says, with no small amount of frankness, ] Then you should know I glimpsed your memories once. I saw you rescue Dean from hell.

[ Seems important to mention. ]

[ o h . well, that falls like a boulder into a shallow pool, graceless and messy. Cas shifts uncomfortable next to him, stiffens, glances around like his hunter counterpart might be lurking somewhere to overhear. ]

Did you?

[ it was traumatic, personal, intimate enough the first go around. Dean at his lowest, rended to shreds, dragged through the mud and twisted into something cruel, demonic, and unrecognizable. piecing what was left of him back together after the pit had been an arduous, grueling process. ]

Is Dean aware you've seen it?

[ his immediate concern is for dean's security, emotional or otherwise. not even sam had been able to drag explicit details of that time from him. knowing it's out there, witnessed by one of his closest friends, may be devastating to him. ]

[ Fair question. Geralt only tilts his head—an indication that he understands why Castiel is asking. ]

Yes. Dean's seen...pieces of me, too.

[ Equally buried deep, equally fucked. He leaves it at that. Between spilled memories, shared dreams—they've crossed into each other's minds far too much. By the time he'd told Dean he'd seen the memory, Dean hadn't even flinched. They were well past that point.

Geralt doesn't like it. These forced revelations. But if it had to be anyone, then better it's Dean. If nothing else, they have an understanding. ]

You missed a few things. [ You know. On the chance that wasn't evident. ]

So I see. [ Cas almost chuckles - the war, the bombing, the arrival of his apocalyptically trigger-happy brothers. if anything, dean and geralt trading vulnerability may be some of the good news. ] It must have been a difficult exchange. I'm glad you found trust in each other.

[ trauma bonding, while certainly not the most healthy way to form relationships, has perhaps been the most prominent feature between the extended hunter family back home. makes sense dean continues to forge connection through it here. ]

Thank you, for... keeping Dean's confidence. For being a friend.

[ "looking after him" is really what cas means, but imagines there might be objection to that sentiment, either from geralt or the absent party in question. dean struggles without 'family' present. cas and geralt may not have been close, but he knew dean had formed a bond with him, knew he could be trusted. if anyone's likely to empathize with the harrowing aspects of their lives at home, it's geralt. ]

If I, um, ended up with any of your memories, I apologize, I must have forgotten it now.

[ geralt may be happy to have his business known by one less person, but it strikes cas as rude to just forget information so personal to someone. ]

[ A brief silence passes. He's never been thanked for being anyone's friend before. He has known Castiel longer than some, in a sense, despite their infrequent chats; Castiel was the first he met alongside Dean. He's also more than aware that Castiel is a rarity in terms of not, frankly, being a little fucker over Geralt existing in Dean's general vicinity. As one or two others have.

But it's still different to hear it spoken aloud, without reservation.

The culmination of Geralt's thoughts is condensed into a plain: ] Sure.

[ It's a sincere Sure, though, unlike his others which sometimes pass for Close enough and Arguing is more effort than you're worth. Something genuinely accepting. ]

You didn't. [ However it worked, Geralt was the only one who absorbed Castiel's. ] Probably for the best.

Edited 2023-01-15 11:56 (UTC)

[ cas offers a soft smile, sensing the rare sincerity and grateful for geralt's candor with it all. ]

It isn't often we - Dean, his brother and I - find a companion with, um, equal life experience, that becomes a staple in their lives. [ meaning, doesn't die, or betray them (be betrayed by them), or disappear. ] Dean, in particular, is hesitant to form connections. I believe the time with you has done him well.

[ dean would deny how emotional and needing of a creature he is until kingdom come, but being a hunter and world-saver doesn't change the whole being human condition. cas could lecture him on it for an eternity and it'd be like trying to move a mountain with a sternly worded letter. someone like geralt arriving and fulfilling that for him is a small miracle.

a comfortable silence settles for a time, meditative as the atmosphere sums up to small waves lapping against warmed rocks, steam dancing clouds through the air, cool night air prickling skin. many humans don't fully appreciate the peace in stillness. he's grateful geralt does.

eyes on the open night sky, cas lets the memory in question drown out his thoughts. the call to serve, the gruesome battle through hell, and the brilliant gleaming soul he discovered in the muck and mire of the pit. the agonizing process of rebuilding, reforming a man from a single spark of life, carding through joy and horrific trauma, slotting the pieces back together, every ecstatic and agonizing memory in its place. he eventually picks up where the conversation diverted. ]

How much was it, that you saw of that memory?

[ Trust is difficult. He more than understands. It started professionally—Dean is reliable on a hunt, can manage the desert conditions fine, and that made him easy company—but even Geralt won't deny that they've long become friends. It's rare for Geralt, too. ]

I seldom trust human hunters. [ They call themselves many things: knights, mercenaries, adventurers. Most make him wary. At best, they get in the way, too arrogant to understand their limits. ] He's...different.

[ He leans back, relaxed in the silence. The moon is half-formed, a sliver behind the clouds. In all the realms they could've landed in, he can at least be grateful shares a similar landscape. He's witnessed enough memories of steel and grey stone—and not a patch of grass in sight—to understand he'd not have a clue what to do there.

At the question, he shifts. ] Only the battle. Blood, the usual. I know you retrieved him for a purpose.

[ geralt doesn't seem the type to trust lightly, or freely, so it does carry significant weight to hear him speak so highly of dean. he understands - that's something markedly different about the man, so, preaching to the choir here. ]

Do humans often give you trouble? [ his brow furrows, but it does make sense. humans are usually wary of anything supernatural, most especially hunters. ] When we met, the first thing Dean did was stab me through the heart.

[ after pumping several shotgun rounds into his chest. eyes turn to the sky, watching it with geralt for a time and considering if he ought to expand beyond that. geralt's clearly trusted, and it wouldn't hurt from him to understand more of the story behind it all. where they each come from, what they fought through to get here. what heaven truly means to them. ]

Heaven aimed to use him as a tool. A vessel, for Michael, in an apocalyptic battle to the death. [ he ducks his head, watching the water ripple around his shoulders. even if he feels shame for his part in heaven's play at sacrificing dean and sam for the sake of a story, he'll never regret saving him from hell. ] I wasn't aware at the time.

[ Geralt gives a noncommittal shrug. Perhaps that says enough. The simple answer is yes; the real answer is that he lives amongst the humans, and cares for a not insignificant number of them. The real answer is everyone, everything, on the Continent carries a cruel streak that gleams especially sharp when fear grips them. He did not exactly find compassion waiting on the Witchers' frosty doorsteps when he first arrived. It took a long time for Kaer Morhen to become associated with warmth and home.

It's a waste of time to stay angry over common facets of the world.

He's more interested in Castiel's description of his first meeting with Dean. Can imagine that well. ]

Lucky you've a sturdy heart. [ In more ways than one.

Geralt swirls a finger in the water. Nods. He's received a vague telling of that, though not the particulars. The end of days, prophecies. Concepts with which he's grown intimately familiar.

The regret in Castiel's voice catches his attention. He's learned enough between the angel and Lucifer and Dean, he thinks, to venture a guess as to what transpired: ] You left your realm for his.

[ it's interesting, framed that way. he did abandon all he knew for dean's world, even if the decision hadn't quit been so streamlined. ]

I suppose so, yes.

[ his intention wasn't to leave heaven, it was more of the consequence for going against raphael and the great plan. ] Siding with Dean, meant betraying Heaven. I'd thought releasing the angels from our father's plan, giving them the free will to self-determine, would...

[ would what, enlighten them? show them a better way? bring harmony on heaven and earth? he'd been so naïve, about so many thing. cas sighs, moving on to abandon that train of thought. ]

After a few faction wars and several very poor decisions made on my part, suffice to say, I'm no longer welcome there. [ except if needed for angel reprogramming, apparently, but that's a horror story for another bath time. ]

But in all that time, following Dean has been... I've seen so much, learned and changed so much. He may not always be righteous or correct, but his heart's always in the right place. Since routing that first apocalypse, there's never been a moment I found him undeserving.

I wouldn't trade it.

Edited 2023-04-24 00:53 (UTC)

[ In retrospect, Geralt did not anticipate I started several wars amongst my kind and was exiled from their world to be something he learned about Castiel while soaking in the hot springs, but it's—

Something. He files the knowledge away, and makes a thoughtful sound. ]

Friendships are often forged in unexpected places.

[ It's no different than he and Jaskier. And righteous men don't exist. Only those who believe they are, and Geralt seldom finds anyone more dangerous than such people. He'd met one here, once. They had not gotten along.

There is more to the story, he's certain—things he does not yet understand about Castiel or the environment he was raised in—but it feels like a tale for another time.

He claps Castiel on the shoulder as he rises from the waters. ] Enjoy the peace and quiet while it's yours.

(open) ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ʙʟɪɴᴅ

OPEN; the horizon

OPEN; nocwich hunting

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CLOSED; nadine and the medical drama

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CLOSED; jojo’s bathtime adventure

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CLOSED; geraldine of riverdance

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