Thecouchcarrot ![[info]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_tHsGwehOEwo-dh-s40JyKBny7wO5sgUXqhURKkZBOdj1iMiRB7RYpCADMLlEjH1i5oUl941CqeCvj2kp_EaWEnTg2Svtuzp-NWR_DptSIFq7K8JA=s0-d){kind=small}
At the end there is a little sketch I made of one of the scenes, I hadn’t drawn anything in a while so I’m rusty (In my happy world that guy is suppoto feel when to one of Their siblings Was Gone, But not now. It Would Be Overwhelming, purposeless, redundant.
The air is charged with tension in the vast field. Comments Nervous snake-through it all. Any connection with the place WHERE human souls rest for eternity has-been just broken in an Effort to Keep Them Safe. That Was the last of the Arrangements to Be Made - There is now not much to do apart from waiting, and There Is Nothing Worse Than waiting for the inevitable to come. Somewhere nearby
There is enough time, and he's not of any use in here for now, or at least that's what he desperately wants to believe. He shouldn't do it, he shouldn't, but it seems his father left behind in him something of the man who once awoke uncomfortable and frustrated in a hospital bed, and that something makes him need, makes him desperate to cling to the memory of what isn't any more – if it ever really was. Humanity is irrational by nature. Only one more time , he reassures himself, and he flies down to Earth, leaving a wake of blaming and reproachful looks behind him. It's been exactly one month and three days since Death incarnate made the youngest Winchester human again. Sam is lying on one of the room beds, his head bandaged, his left forearm too. He's focused on the laptop over his lap, working hastily, frenetically, almost as if he were trying not to think, trying not to feel, not to remember. As if he is somehow trying to avoid what lies hidden beyond the wall in his mind. "Hello Sam," an absurdly grave voice says just after a faint rustle of feathers. Sam raises his head slowly, only a little surprised and unwilling to stop his typing. "Cas. We tried to contact you earlier." Castiel only looks at him, evaluating his condition. After a minute, he simply replies, "I know," and then goes quiet. \u0026LXC "Uhhhh ... okay." He Gives a hint of a smile in an Attempt to dispel the awkwardness of the situation while he focused on historical computer again. He glances at the Short Man Without raising His head, Castiel is still standing on the Same spot WHERE I Appeared out of the blue. "Dean Went out, and I Doubt he'll be back soon." More silence. "But he's Probably somewhere nearby."
"Thank you."
"I'm glad your soul is back." And That Was totally unexpected. "Thanks," Sam says slowly. Suddenly His face goes Slightly gloomy in a mix of sDNAHTMLXC "That's a no." Dean does what he knows best. "Well, maybe if you guys did some cloud-seeding up there once in a while you could work the miracle of life," he jokes to break the tension. But he feels running out of resources when all he gets back is a confused look, so he raises his eyebrows and smirks mischievously. "By the way Cas, you never said a word about your first kiss." He retrieves the bottle to get another swig, then takes it down and puts it at the other side, and there it is – the result he was expecting. The seriousness melts away and becomes nervousness as Castiel's eyes start to flicker back and forth. "It was a… new sensation." " EHHHHH? " " ... Interesting ... "Some I Seems to gather courage and Stare at the hunter with rueful face. "But the taste of sulfur is unbearable." A loud laugh hard and fills the empty lot, while Dean Stretches His arm to leave His hand hanging from the angel's neck. "You Deserve it for the first female kissing Shapes That Came your way." He laughs a little more and I Could swear the corners of historical partner's lips curl up Almost imperceptibly. "You're a fast leaner, good visual memory, Should you finish watching the movie. Believe me, It Gets Better, the babysitter Takes revenge, and how. "He Becomes Absorbed for a moment and unconsciously bitesHis lower lip.
"Dean?" "Mmm?"
"You told me Men Do not talk about-" The bottle Finds STI way again. Stretches Silence Between Them For What Seems To Be hours, or maybe minutes, after all, time is a tricky notion extends or Contracts That Itself at will, shortening the lengthening the joy and sorrows. Dean sighs. "You know Cas, normal life sucks in Many Ways. It's friggin 'monotonous, but-"He Gazes at the angel pointedly. "It's Different." He pauses. "For awhile My Biggest problem Was the lawnmower, and a tiny part of me wanted to believe it Could BeLike That. That I Would not Have to worry about angry ghosts, vampires, angels, demons ever again, That I Would not Have to Deal With That supernatural crap anymore, That I Could Forget all that's about. "
The dash of quiet That Cross solitude Castiel's eyes goes Unnoticed and dissolves while Dean continues.
" Braeden Benjamin Always prays for you Not to do anything too stupid. I did it When I Lived in Cicero and I still does from Battlecreek Every Night. " A little spark appears on Dean's expression, and it shines with warmth. "You listen to What everybody prays for or what?" "No." The hunter takes two more swigs.
"Dean." It's Almost Unreal Castiel manager how to intone Those four letters, gathering Able Them in a symphony of tarnishing Any Other Word. "Do you think you and your brother Have Already Sacrificed Everything that's possible to sacrifice." And it's not really a question, and the angel's gaze is fixed in infinity and unreadable in STI depth. &verse had been condensed in a frame of bones and flesh with human shape and hazel eyes. "Dean." And this time his name sounds like a brotherly caress. "I am blessed to know you," he says, with steady solemn voice and something akin to nostalgia. Dean only holds the stare; for some reason a smile vanishes in his lips before seeing light. He finally claps his hand softly on Castiel's leg a couple times, before tightening his grip on the angel's thigh, just a little above his knee, without saying word.
An icy wind blows then, and Dean has to bring his hands up to his mouth to warm them. He rubs them together and mutters, "It's fucking cold." A hint of a shiver wriggles at the back of his neck, anream. He frowns and yawns a little before opening his eyes, he glances over his shoulder and although the tan trenchcoat confuses him at first, soon a too familiar noise leaves him no doubt that the one who lies in the next bed is his brother, finally defeated by exhaustion and whiskey. Sam buries his head in the pillow and drifts back to sleep.
Dawn has just broken and a thin white sheet covers the view. Castiel is sitting on the same bench, in the same place where not long ago, in comparison with the rest of his existence, he confided to a friend that a ghost of doubt wandered through his being. He stares into nothingness. Something catches his attention slightly for a split second, before a whisper of soft breeze arrives from the west in unison with a calling from a distant place. His deep blue eyes give a last wistful look at the magnificence of his father's creation and at that lonely sprout on one of the branches of the big tree in the distance, one that should not be there and that is doomed to die under the merciless winter. It has no other fate.
In a flutter of wings the park is empty.
The overwhelming sound of metal clashing devours the heavens in a crescendo of violence and abject horror; every corner is gradually stained by the furious crimson tide, and the eldest world sinks into a slow agony as one by one, and by thousands , the lives of the warriors of an absent god extinguish abruptly.
Any comment, opinion, suggestion, insult or death threat will be highly appreciated.
0 comments:
Post a Comment