[Open] Carry you to peaceful fields

[freetobe]

characters: Castiel & You (Open) | Castiel & Bruce (Closed)
location: Beacon & In Your Dreams (no really)
date/time: During the Blizzard (Jan 7 - 11)
content: Dreamwalking! Patrolling Beacon during a Blizzard! An angel helping out and endangering himself through it! Whoo!
warnings: CWs dependant on the content of dreams



➣ Beacon {Kiss the feathers of a hummingbird in flight}

[ Castiel doesn't rely on his flesh and blood to keep him in continued existence. The cold doesn't bother him per se, though the weather proved quite vexing to navigate. He hopes that the more mortal of his allies and charges in his place are sensible and will stay inside.

Yet he himself braves the blizzard, patrolling Beacon. Checking on the Bonire, to know for certain that the fire will not be beaten down by the snow. Checking on the edges of the forest, to make sure nothing takes this opportunity to creep in and wreak havoc. Looking for anyone else foolish enough to have stepped outside in this weather. He carries in his hand a peculiar looking, shiny silver blade. His dark hair and coat are dusted with snow, and whenever visibility allows, he moves not by pushing through the snow that's piling up, but by seemingly teleporting with the sound of rustling feathers. Never far - like Crowley and Aziraphale, his flight is limited by how far his lantern allows him to see, though his wings aren't visible to the naked eye. Not unless he wishes to show them, at least.

If he happens to spot someone outside, they might see him at a lantern-light distance, and then suddenly right next to them, blue eyes on the person, and then back to scanning the surroundings. ]

Are you alright?

➣ Dreams and Nightmares {Breaking up into a million specks of light}

[ooc: This one gives you an opportunity to do some dream sharing. This is completely opt in, if you want this prompt, it happens with the OOC permission to enter/invade your character's dream - or nightmare and be witness to its contents. If you already have close-ish CR with him, he might step into any regular old dream you have to check up on you while the blizzard keeps you cooped up. Close CR or strangers having nightmares will also prompt him to make "the trip" as it were, in an attempt to help you through the nightmare and towards restful sleep. If you want him to show up in your dream/nightmare, feel free to respond with a description of the dream. Please put appropriate CWs on nightmares!

Doing this will start to sap his powers, which by the end of the blizzard's duration will run quite low, and the light of his lantern begins dimming accordingly. The implication of this is not known to most people in beacon.]

➣ [Closed to Bruce, Jan 10] Church {Take the shape of an angel in the night}

[ It's towards the end of the blizzard's duration that Castiel finds himself taking momentary shelter in the church. He's been here a few times, though not as often as one might assume an angel to come here. He doesn't bother to brush the snow from his hair, just quietly walks alongside the pews. The church has recently seen restoration efforts, and he can practically feel the care put into the project. Fascinating, the hard work and dedication people put into it. Though he supposes, here in this place, it might have more practical reasons related to that hatch, and the strange conditions of their supposed death.

He's carrying his blade in one hand, serious features trained though on the stained glass, on the alter, on the pews. He looks contemplative, maybe. Or perhaps lost. There's a certain tension in the set of his shoulders, in the tightness of his jawline, and something oddly stilted to his movements. The light of his lantern is strangely dim, and he looks tired.

Castiel eels it in the bones of his vessel, how he has strained himself to grant more peaceful rest to the souls Beacon harbours. No regrets. He won't kill himself for most of them, though if some of them happen to have nightmares, he might be lured into draining himself - draining his lantern - a little more.

He knows he's not alone. Whether Bruce enters after him, or has been there the entire time. Castiel doesn't turn towards him, but says: ]

Hello.

➣ Wildcard {On the whispering wind}

[ ooc: Maybe you want to seek Castiel out differently, contact him on the network, or have a different idea for a plot. Feel free to hit me up on plurk or discord to discuss <3 ]

Comments

[freetobe]

[ Castiel is aware of Vanitas in similar ways that Vanitas is aware of him, the duality of light and dark something neither can escape or quite ignore. Here, more than anywhere else, Castiel couldn't be unaware of Vanitas even if he tried, with the Unversed filling the space. He can't tell what they are, but they feel to him as Vanitas does, and he wonders if they're extensions of himself, or separate but cut from his essence.

He's aware of them, but doesn't acknowledge, not at first. Not for a while. Castiel feels dim and weak. He might not have agreed to come here, had he known... but then Bruce's concern had been earnest, and Vanitas so far has not given Castiel reason to fear for his own safety, other than rubbing Castiel's very core the wrong way.

So he wanders, for a while, exploring the museum quietly. He tries not to slip away here, to fall unconscious in order to recover. That, he cannot consider wise with people and... beings presen whose intentions he doesn't know. It's a slower recovery, but he also appreciates the chance to observe the art.

Angels do not... create, not in way the humans can. They are not meant to have emotions, creativity, imagination. It's a shame. The things humans produce are raw and beautiful. So he looks at the paintings, the sculptures.

But he's aware, always. So after a while, he speaks, calm and soft, with his lantern barely bright enough to illuminate the dark: ]

You've been keeping a close eye on me.

[evulsed]

[ Vanitas knows that the lanterns are a reflection of their owners. He knows when they go out it spells death. He knows the way Riku's had guttered, diminished as he'd slowly been freezing to death in the outside. He wonders if Castiel faces the same limitations as himself; is he suddenly sequestered in a human body? Did he need to eat and sleep, was he exempt from it before, the same way Vanitas was?

His lantern fire is low, a soft glow that might seem welcoming to anyone who spent their time in the light. Anyone who wasn't Vanitas, from the other side, who can't help looking at it and seeing the weakness. This man was powerful, and on their first meeting, Vanitas is only half certain he'd be able to war with his grace&mdsah; but now, if he attacked, he thinks he could take him down. He thinks he could smother that light in all his darkness, wrap it up and make it his own.

It wouldn't be the same, but the impulse is there. Vanitas curls both hands into fists. ]

You're dimmer, ligthbearer.

[ Vanitas seems to take being addressed as an invitation, but doesn't approach directly. He instead comes toward Castiel at almost an angle, like a shark tightening it's circle. ]

Was it the cold?

Or something else?

[freetobe]

[ Castiel's eyes remain on the artwork. Vanitas will understand better than most that not all beings see with just their eyes, that Castiel is keeping track of the movements. He recognizes how predatory it is - but doesn't consider himself prey.

Vanitas might be able to take him, and Castiel doesn't know just how resilient he is here when weakened. Whether he's... more mortal than he should be. Still, he has no fear of that. Just an acknowledgment, silent and to himself, of the option. ]

Something else.

[ If Vanitas hopes Castiel will elaborate, he'll be kept waiting - perhaps indefinitely. ]

'Lightbearer'?

[evulsed]

[ He doesn't expect Castiel to elaborate; Vanitas half expected that he wouldn't have said anything at all, so even this much is enough to lure him in. And he gets at least a partial truth: it wasn't the cold. Castiel was out there doing something else, diminishing his light. But maybe that isn't such a surprise, given what Vanitas knows of people just like him.]

That's what you are.

[ He says, wandering closer. ]

[freetobe]

[ A small sound of acknowledgment, or maybe agreement, and Castiel's attention shifts back to the artwork, gaze impassive to the unobservant eye, but wistful to the careful observer. ]

Are you still looking for ways to hurt me?

[evulsed]

Always.

[ It's honest, despite the lofty way he says it. Castiel looks away, but Vanitas keeps looking at him. He's seen this piece of art before; Castiel is much more interesting. ]

I'll find it eventually.

It's what I do best.

[ One of them, anyway. Xehanort made sure of that. ]

[freetobe]

Your best fails to impress so far.

[ Vanitas is not the only one who can adopt a lofty tone. Castiel walks then, back to Vanitas, until he stands in front of the next piece of art. He doesn't end their conversation, though. ]

What have you managed to learn?

[evulsed]

[ He laughs, then. The sound bursts out of him like a startled bird, derisive. ]

Not all Darkness comes upon you suddenly.

[ Vanitas, while impulsive and at times impatient, learned from the best what it meant to bide your time. Without being master of all the strings, Vanitas has to ferret out what he knows slowly but surely.

Castiel moves and Vanitas trails after him like a shadow. ]

You have a deep anguish in you. Something you shouldn't have.

[freetobe]

[ Castiel's nose wrinkles in distate for a moment, though not at Vanitas' words. No, rather he's reminded of a demon needling him and vexing him from across a ring of holy fire, taunting him with his imminent destruction...

Unpleasant, Castiel thinks, that Vanitas would remind him of the demon he could have and possibly did love, rather than Crowley, the demon he's briefly allied with yet has always found loathsome. ]

Do you think that which is light should not experience emotions that dark?

[evulsed]

[ He creeps nearer, until he is just beyond the realm of Castiel's flickering lantern. Vanitas own with its black flame, even next to the angel's dim glow, still seems somehow darker, even though it casts its own light. ]

Maybe if you're human.

[ From his position, he can see the curve of Castiel's jaw, but his expression is obscured by the angle. ]

[freetobe]

Maybe.

[ The truth is, of course, that Castiel's own kind isn't meant to feel at all, much less as deeply and painfully as has experienced feelings.

Castiel turns his head, giving Vanitas the sharp cut of his profile. ]

You co-exist with them. The boys; one silver-haired, one dark. Are you drawn by their dark or their light? Or something else?

[evulsed]

[ His smile comes slow, almost sly. There's something comforting about this to him. He knows this angel doesn't like him, that his presence makes him uncomfortable in some way he can't quite name. It's the same fissure that Vanitas feels, this near, close enough to feel a whisper of that Light but not near enough to bask in it. ]

They're unique. They aren't like you or me.

[ The truth is he's drawn to both reflections. Riku and his marbled dusk, like moment just before daybreak. Bruce, like a single candle burning in a yawning, unending black void. But those aren't the reasons that Vanitas spends so much time at the museum, instead of in the room he's claimed as his own at the Invincible.

He raises one hand, gesturing ambiguously. ]

You could say... they don't bore me.

[freetobe]

I see.

[ Vanitas is a strange creature. Castiel dislikes, primarily, that he finds himself unable to just beat his wings and leave this place, put distance between himself and this shadow of his at his own leisure.

Then again, retreat is rarely an option for him on any sort of battlefield. ]

And do you seek to hurt them, too?

[evulsed]

[ You seek to hurt them too?

Vanitas pauses at that, maybe because it's the first time he's been asked to reflect on it. It's true, he goes out of his way to hurt the people around him. He wants them to suffer, not just because it gives him satisfaction to see them hurt like he does, but because the Darkness it creates makes him stronger.

But somewhere along the line, at least with Bruce and Riku... that changed. ]

They do that all on their own.

[ The nonanswer is flippant. ]

Why did you agree to come here? Bruce must have invited you.

[freetobe]

[ Perhaps something they have in common then, as much as Castiel detests it. This bond to people who are prone to cutting themselves on their own inner pain. ]

He did. A sharp mind, that one.

[ Castiel can be a spectacularly bad liar. What he does well, though, what he has learned through going behind his own friends' backs, is how to pivot. ]

Were you invited and never left? Or is the nature of this arrangement a different one?

[evulsed]

[ Vanitas smirks; it's a bit of an understatement, in regards to Bruce. Vanitas recognized it over time, because Bruce only showed his cards in slivers, and even now Vanitas knows he doesn't see it all. Whatever he's tried to hide, Vanitas has never been privy to, and beyond that— he's used to not being told everything. Xehanort was the same way. ]

I come and go when I want.

[freetobe]

A behaviour I'm not entirely unfamiliar with.

[ Castiel, by nature of his existence, isn't limited to space or even time. Here, of course, he's... somewhat more beholden to such confines, but still sees no issue with entering or leaving people's spaces at his own leisure, his grasp on manners willful at the best of times.

He turns away from the artwork finally. Crosses his arms loosely, and awards Vanitas with his full attention and the weight of his blue gaze. ]

Does it hurt? Being you.

[evulsed]

Huh?

[ Vanitas cocks his head, his eyebrow raised and a look of surprised incredulity on his face. The question catches him off guard, maybe because of the way it's worded— and then right away he starts to laugh. There's nothing joyful in the sound, despite the way Vanitas puts his head back briefly, how he doesn't stifle it or try to smother the sound. It echoes back at them from the high ceiling.

When he looks back at the angel, the arch expression is still on his face, and he's smiling— but it looks more like a grimace. A baring of teeth. ]

What do you think, Castiel?

What is Darkness to you?

[freetobe]

[ Castiel just looks back at him, calm and unblinking, gaze on Vanitas' shape, and mind far away. He sees Meg's face, sees the expanse of hell, the pain and suffering of humanity, the pristine brightness of Heaven, the fanaticism, the cuts, the horrors on all three plains.

He thinks to an Apocalypse that never was, and then another, to humans rallying like bright sparks against the night sky, to giving all of himself over and over again, hollowed out and ruined, thinks to regrettable actions and the vile acts of war, thinks to mutating himself and breaking himself, leaving himself and everything he ever learned to hold dear in ruin and ash.

He thinks of how it hurts, just being.

What is Darkness to him, who is Light? ]

A different shade of the same colour.

[evulsed]

[ The silence stretches, long enough that the grim expression on his face softens into something a little more sly and a little less manic. He has an expectation; one he learned from facing off against the Guardians of light in his own time. Light is opposed to Darkness; it hates everything about it, wants to crush it and smother it, destroy it to make way for everything the other side shows.

And the worst part is that Vanitas had always just wanted a piece of that for himself. His existence was suffering. He didn't understand why he had to suffer like this, when Ventus had everything, weak as he was. Friendship, and kindness; he didn't have piece of himself ripping off day after day, exposing his reality like a raw nerve.

Vanitas had to learn how to subsist through that anguish. He had to learn that pain was power, that Darkness was stronger for all it had to endure. But even for all of that, right up to the end, he'd only wanted his suffering to end.

It's impossible, now. In the Keyblade Graveyard, the reality of what he was had been made clear. And what you are is Darkness? Ventus had demanded, angry for reasons Vanitas could only assume were connected with the loathing the Light has for it. All I am is Darkness, he agreed; because what was the point of all of it, otherwise? Siding with Darkness, acknowledging what he was— there could be no other choice. It would break him.

The amusement filters out of his expression, bleeding out until it reverses into something more honest. Something that looks like anger. ]

Is that so?