driftfleet | Tha sin mar bhàs.

Entry tags:

Tha sin mar bhàs.

Who: Katie and you!
Broadcast: Yes!
Action: Planetside
When: Now-ish

[Amusement Park]

[So this is where she goes when she wants time to think, apparently. The bunker is a place she won't enter; between the heavy aftermath of a mass death and the understandably stricken reactions of its visitors, the atmosphere is far too toxic. But it doesn't mean she isn't grieving. The deaths could not be helped and are god knows how far in the past, but the fact that these people have been forgotten - not acknowledged even by this automated town, let alone the rest of space - is something that sits very poorly. She can't even change anything about the town to reflect its population's final days.

She's walking the rollercoaster tracks, very high up, thinking over the issue. Don't ask how she got up that high. And don't worry if you should be using the rollercoaster at the time; she can avoid you. Might give you a bit of a scare, though, sorry.

Eventually, she puts a call through to Sam.]

[Outside of town]

[As far as she can go before she suspects (or hopes) she's outside the range of the city's replication science so her work isn't scrubbed. She's not too far from the bunker; it would be pointless if she were too far away from it.

She finds a rock face smooth enough, and between a thick blade and Kirito's lightsaber she carves a memorial. Maybe nobody will ever see it, but if any other visitors come to this place, they should know what happened. It's worth the extra headache.]

[And Broadcast]

I've decided to quit making dreamcatchers and move on to voodoo dolls instead. It's more fun. So if you'd like to take one before I end up throwing them all out, feel free.

[Just so you know. Totally honest, as usual. Less cheerful than normal.

If anyone wants her she'll be curled up in her office with Licorice on her lap. She's so tired of these planets.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Non-humans aren't a rare thing in this Fleet, Cas is quickly discovering, so when he finds some kind of nature spirit in a mortal body carving up some rocks near the bunker he isn't too rattled.

Seeing her carve up a memorial for the humans presumably killed inside, though, does make him stop. He watches her for a moment, far off so as not to disturb her, watching until it seems like she's done before approaching. To thank her maybe, to pay his own respects; he's not sure yet.]

[Katie doesn't look up from her task until she's done. Or mostly done; there's a portion of the memorial that's for details, a count of how many people died here, she's yet to fill in. She's dreading it just a little, to be honest. For pooka reasons. So she stretches and turns, catching sight of Cas as he's on the approach.

Well, then. Her smile is cheerful enough. But when you get close enough, Cas, she's got a question for you.]

Why did you break Sam's mind?

[Also, hi.

She doesn't seem mad, though.]

[Oh.

Castiel stops short on his approach, hands still in his pockets, though the look on his face is that of a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar...if that cookie jar happens to be another person's head.

Has Sam been telling people about this? Cas saw quite a few moments of communication between this person and Sam on his posts, but didn't see anything indicative of Sam sharing this with people. He always tends to be so self-sacrificing, tight-lipped especially about things that have hurt him, a strange mixture of shame, penance and unwillingness to cause someone else worry staying his tongue.

Stupid...damn Sam Winchester.

That doesn't seem to be the case here, and once the shock of the question wears off Castiel wilts, guilty and resigned, well aware that whatever scorn she has prepared to throw his way, he'll deserve it.]

...It was a grave mistake.

[The range of emotion she sees there is enough that her long-held and long-banked anger shifts a little more into a sort of tired sadness. She already knows Cas tried to make amends. And Sam has forgiven him long ago.

But she's not Sam.]

That doesn't answer my question, though, does it?

No I...suppose not.

[The look Cas gives her is a little guarded; he doesn't have a problem airing out his own dirty laundry, but this is also Sam's. If she knows about it at all then it stands to reason he told her, but...well, anything can happen. He should keep Sam's involvement vague, just in case.]

I...I was arrogant. And frustrated. I didn't want to be stopped, and I believed that- if I could just achieve my goals, unhindered, then I could put him back together. I could build him back up even better than before.

Edited 2018-04-11 02:08 (UTC)

Never mind how much pain you caused him in the meantime. [But it's a soft response, lacking any real bite. There's a lot of questions she could ask here. She reaches up to dust some of the dust from her carving efforts away.

A lot. She'll ask one.]

Would you ever do it to him again?

[She kind of reminds him of that zanna that had been trailing Sam for a while; the faerie folk are one of the most varied species in all Creation, one of the few not born directly of God. As such, Heaven had kept tabs on the Winchester brushes with the supernatural outside of their typical profession (though Cas hadn't been particularly in the know until later).

Maybe it's that association that compels Castiel to answer so honestly. ]

I would die first.

[But likely not. Cas has been prepared to die for the Winchesters for quite some time now.]

[Ah. He means it, too. She considers, briefly and meanly, whether she should make him swear to that. But until she saw those damning memories, she'd never thought of Castiel as anything other than a good friend; to Sam, if not necessarily to her.

Hard to be good friends with someone who basically does accidentally what Cas did deliberately, so. She turns back to her engraving.]

When did you get back?

[The matter isn't settled completely; she's always going to feel a flutter of upset about it because of the nervosa. But Sam forgave him, so may as well stop making him feel like crap about it.]

[It feels like something around them lets out a breath, but Cas doesn't move any closer. He hadn't exactly put what happened with Sam behind him, but it was buried down far enough that dragging it back up to the surface has disturbed his footing, so to speak.

He stays behind her.] A few days ago. I don't remember anything from before, however. I may not even be the same Castiel you knew.

[She starts at that, glancing over her shoulder in a mix of surprise and dismay. Mostly surprise, though; she's used to being forgotten, too, but--]

Well. That was rude of me, I suppose. Here I am, some random stranger harassing you in the middle of nowhere.

[Yeah, he's getting used to that vaguely disappointed look.] It's all right. You were concerned for Sam. [He didn't exactly set the record straight right off the bat, anyway.]

[She was angry for Sam. At one point, anyway. If Cas had been around at the point she'd found out the conversation would have been pretty horrid, but time, space, etc.]

Well. I'm Katie. The angel of Saturday morning cartoons.

[look sometimes the only thing that separates 'concerned for' and 'angry for' is a mild stabbing]

...there's no such- ah. [HE CAUGHT ON. Is he being teased? ...maybe? There's an awkward moment where he's not sure if he's supposed to play along before he just decides to glide right on past that] You aren't human, though. Or not entirely.

[Oh well, she sees he hasn't changed. Katie's amused.]

I don't think anyone's entirely human. There's too much background radiation.

[Another squinty face] ...and there's something else. [What is that? It's not her general fae-ness, it's almost...well not almost, but it can't be because it's...

Celestial. From-his-world, recognizably celestial.]

[Blink. That's new.]

What do you mean? Do I have a passenger I'm not meant to?

[Or maybe it's Sam. She has a tiny fraction of him in here somewhere.]

[He comes closer, eyes raking over her as he looks deeper than skin, tries to find what's set off his senses. There doesn't seem to be anything in particular; her ears and tail, the shape of her eyes, all of it just out of sight but that's just faerie characteristics-

There.

Cas stops cold like a marble statue, staring down at Katie's forearm. It's almost like a pulse, like a thread that connects somewhere he can't see. His eyes snap back up to her face, the good will draining from his expression.]

[Oh, that's not the greatest look. She's still legitimately confused for most of that scan, thinks it's maybe Sam, but she followed that gaze down to her arm, and oh. Oh, fae never really forget a promise, but it'd been more than ten years--]

I suppose if you don't remember Adstring, you don't remember a lot of important things. [It's soft, and she can't meet his gaze.]

[Five years ago Cas would already have his sword in hand, but there are a few things that stay his suspicion. He's already let Lucifer into himself already, when times seemed too desperate to ignore, and Sam is her friend. Sam is her friend, even with that mark on her arm...though it's possible he doesn't know about it.]

Why do you have a mark from Lucifer? [He at least doesn't look like he's about to get rowdy, though he is cautious. See, because he's allowed to fuck with Lucifer since he knows what he's getting into. It's allowed because, look, because he- look,]

Before I answer that, how much do you know about pooka?

[Because that really defines how she's going to frame her answer.]

Púca? [Cas squints and tilts his head, hands sliding into his pockets.] Fae folk usually found around modern day Northwest Europe; Britain, Channel Islands...sometimes Scandinavia. Samhain had posed as the Gaelic god of Harvest some thousand years ago and enslaved a few families, if memory serves me well. [Which it might not. Naomi's meddling aside, Cas doesn't really know the details of what happened; he'd been assigned somewhere else to watch around the turn of the millennium.

...well and plus, to his mild embarrassment, Heaven didn't really give a fuck about the 'dirty pagans' back then so anything that wasn't directly related to the development of the Judeo-Christian movement was kind of ignored.]

Edited 2018-04-30 05:22 (UTC)

[Well, there's a reminder Cas has been around as long as Crowley has, most likely. (Not his Crowley, the other Crowley, she has no clue how long jerkface has been around for--). The list-off makes sense but the note about Samhain is... different enough that yeah, she suspects there might be vast differences between his fae and her fae, at least in terms of history.

Especially as the fae in her world are barely holding on, hiding the way they are.]

Do you know they're trickster spirits who liked to play with words, and did it long enough that eventually they were punished for it?

I knew they were tricksters, but I don't know anything about a punishment. A curse? [Really probably should've looked more into the politics outside of Heaven once or twice. Or a thousand times. Hindsight's revealed that Heaven really was kind of running a shitshow.]

[It's Cas's heavily disenchanted view of Heaven that means they even got on in the first place. But he's right enough about a curse. A geas, more to the point, but same deal.]

Can you make a guess as to what that curse might be, given curse-givers tend to be fond of delicious irony?

[That squinting look doesn't go away as he thinks, recalling what he knows of his own version of her kind back home, of curses, and though it's a considerable amount to know-

"The angel of Saturday morning cartoons."

He blinks.] You can't speak plain. -answer plainly.

outside of town

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