[ prayer is one of those things that peter indulges in only occasionally: it's not a question of belief, or doubt, or confirmation, it's more about comfort. he doesn't expect an answer — that'd be way too self-indulgent, but that doesn't mean it's not a conversation of sorts. it's certainly more a conversation than all those times that he talks to himself.
he doesn't know if god's there, but then, isn't that the point? he doesn't know, even, if they're dead: their arrival in beacon had seemed to imply, definitively, that they were, but it wouldn't be the first time he's apparently died. (it's a thing that doesn't stick, apparently.)
the longer he's here though, the more he thinks that maybe they are. it's not a thought he vocalises because he has to believe that they're not and that there's a way back home if — well, if not for him, then for everyone else. a way to stop the world eaters. a way to sort all of this out.
he doesn't go in to the church — it's not that he feels unwelcome there, not at all, it's more that he prefers to be alone. prayer for him tends to be about— he has a complicated relationship with god; he has questions about what and why, and he knows, always, what the answer would be: that the mystery's the point, he'd be bored and grumpy if he had all of the answers, blah blah blah. but in spite of that, it doesn't stop him from asking and from complaining.
after the event with the food and the dreams, it means peter's only got more of the above. he knows he's only got himself to blame for eating the food, he should have known better. not only is half the town destroyed (again), but robin's— what? they don't know. he's still not sure if he trusts her, but in spite of himself, he cares for her and even if he didn't, he's not sure that he could just sit idly by and watch whilst she was— tortured? attacked? who knows.
but going to the lighthouse is an issue all and of itself. the last time they'd gone, the town had been attacked (again: again), they'd had even more casualties than they had this time around. does he want to risk that? he'd been furious when aziraphale and crowley had tried to commandeer the ferry and leave, risked everyone for the sake of vanity. wouldn't that be the same? he feels guilty so he wants to do something to make it better.
(hypocrisy is thy name, peter parker. ugh.)
he wants an easy answer (he knows it's not going to come); he wants to feel better about himself (he knows that's not going to happen, either); he wants to know that may and mj and everyone back home is okay (probably not going to happen, but like, marginally more likely than any of the above, right?).
he's on top of the church, then, by the bell tower. since gaining a roommate, he's had to consider the logistics of the suit and civilian clothing, so he's had to consider leaving rucksacks of clothes in obscure locations that no-one else will think to look (reasonably speaking). webbing them is — not an ideal solution, given the limited supply and the limited resources to worry about the formula and making it so that it lasts longer (and god knows the issues he'd had with otto's new and improved formula), so in this instance, the rucksack is something he'd brought with him. he doesn't imagine, really, that he's about to be doing any spider-man related activities, it's just that ... the black blends in with the darkness better, alright? ]
Shamelessly taking this from another prayer-related tag I just wrote, ahem
[ They don't understand what prayers feel like. Castiel has spent some time on earth listening to them, trying and struggling to answer as many as he could. Trying to work on atoning for his countless sins little by little, knowing it would never be enough.
Still... the sound...
A prayer is like a small sliver of melody that trickles through the fabric of the universe, like a shooting star in slow motion, like the poetry of an opening door. Always vibrant, always unique. Sometimes loud with desperation or brilliant with conviction or inviting with genuine, unrehearsed intent.
Prayers have not been unheard of in Beacon - they've just been rare.
This one is faint and subtle, barely a prayer and more a longing, a question marked in pencil, half-erased.
Castiel follows it.
If there is nothing else he can do in Beacon, perhaps he can answer prayers, whether they be directed at him or not. It's easier to pick them up on Thursdays anyway.
There's the sound of rustling feathers behind Peter, the soft rush of displaced air.
Castiel is momentarily confused by the figure he finds there, atop the church. Just looks at him for a good long moment, head tilting slightly sideways in contemplation. ]
[ the noise is startling just enough for him to tense, briefly, before he swings round towards the sound. it's not anything that sets off his spider-sense, so whatever or whoever it is doesn't mean him any harm, but after everything, he's a little on edge. it's a quick, fluid movement, graceful and with an easy, innate equilibrium that says it'd take a lot for him to lose his balance.
his expression isn't readable, not beneath the mask, but there's a quick movement to his head as he takes in the sight of castiel that says he's surprised even if, logically speaking, he knows he shouldn't be. ordinarily, there'd be an immediate joke, something dismissive to break the ice but then castiel says peter and he finds himself at a temporary loss for words.
doesn't anyone respect the concept of the mask? the idea of a secret identity?
he looks down at the roof of the church; pauses, just for a second, then: ] I thought angels were supposed to go on the tops of trees, not non-denominational churches.
[ Castiel watches Peter back, just keeps steady eyes on him. He blinks, not not quite often enough. Anyone watching Castiel long enough will spot the small things that mark him 'other'. The way he carries himself, as if even after all these years he's still getting used to his own shape and how it functions.
He waits, though. Patient and silent until Peter speaks, at which point he gesturesat the rooftop beneath them, and almost gently counters: ]
I thought prayers were customarily uttered from within churches, rathern than atop.
I thought prayer was supposed to be a personal conversation between an individual and God.
[ if he sounds tetchy, it's because he hadn't expected to be bothered, hadn't expected that his internal monologue of hey, it's me, peter, can I just get a bit of clarity on what exactly is going on with my life for the nth time would manage to draw any attention.
he thinks that he could have asked, that he should have given it a little more thought, but it's a little late for that now. he wonders, briefly, if there's a reason castiel had — heard (question mark) him, but he can come back to that question later. he wonders, too, if it was specifics castiel had heard or just general feelings rather than thoughts. it's a disquieting, almost discomforting thought and he's suddenly not entirely sure how he feels about the fact that castiel apparently is confirmation of faith. (to an extent.)
(no, that's a lie. truthfully, he thinks he feels a little sick.
or that could just be the fact that he's tired, who knows.) ]
[ Castiel falls silent again, then blinks, too blue eyes widening a little. It occurs to him that the statement is rather harsh, especially towards someone who apparently has some level of faith, and is... testy, for lack of a better words, with the specifics of Castiel's existence.
He holds up a hand, palm out. The gesture is almost apologetic, if slightly stilted and awkward. ]
God is... absent.
[ Castiel does not specifiy whether he means here in Beacon... or generally speaking. ]
It doesn't mean prayers go unheard, even the informal ones. Yours was... subtle. I might have missed it, were it not my day.
[ His user name on the network is thursday. Castiel hasn't got much faith, but he believes in Peter's brain enough to trust him to figure that one out. ]
[ castiel apologises and peter, quite suddenly, feels guilty. he inhales; it's a quiet breath and he looks away from castiel before raising a hand and pulling the bottom of his mask up. it rests, scrunched up, on the top of his head, tufts of hair curling slightly messily from underneath.
(peter, castiel had said. there wasn't really any point in denying it: castiel had been able to tell his name from their first meeting on the beach. is it annoying? sure, but it wasn't really any different to jonah knowing, or johnny, or felicia, or any of the avengers, or—
god, he really needed to work on the secret identity thing, didn't he?)
his lips quirk downwards, just for a second, and a flicker of hesitation crosses his features. ] No, I—. [ beat. ] I didn't think, [ he admits, somewhere between sheepish and resigned. another pause, then: ] Why?
Castiel steps closer, but doesn't look at Peter. His gaze sweeps out, instead. Over the darkness around them, as far as the lights allow their eyes wander. Beacon feels small, and Castiel hates how it cripples his senses and abilities.
He sees the ruin of Ignis' face.
It should have been him. ]
Because mine were never answered.
[ He's quiet for another moment or two, gaze steady but distant. He's here for Peter, but in this moment it's perhaps easy to see that he carries his own burdens. Finally, he looks back at the man and his strange pyjamas. ]
Prayers can be distinct words, but they don't have to be as formal as that. Intense feelings of longing, of faith, or of related contemplation translate as well, if not as distinctly.
[ is all peter says at first, though he doesn't bother clarifying if it's in relation to the first remark or the second. he wants to point out that it's not as if prayers go habitaully answered in his experience, not in any ways that they are perhaps capable of picking up on, but perhaps it's different for angels. perhaps that's the issue: "god is absent", "my prayers weren't answered". doubt's a hell of a thing to try and come to terms with if you've never had to experience it before.
it's easier, too, to focus on the fact that castiel's bothered by something. it's not really there in how he looks, but in how he stands, the way that his focus is on beacon but doesn't really seem to see it.
peter hasn't asked him yet if he'd spent the last two weeks asleep or fighting in the town, but at a guess, peter would say that whatever the issue is, it's related to that period of time. ] You know, I was using conversation figuratively, right? Monologue's probably the better term. I complain, God doesn't so much as answer as just— [ peter waves a hand vaguely and dismissively ], I feel a little bit better about things, sometimes a little bit worse, then I go on my merry way. [ generally towards the sound of sirens or screaming, but: semantics. ]
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05/12 quietly sobs i'm sorry
he doesn't know if god's there, but then, isn't that the point? he doesn't know, even, if they're dead: their arrival in beacon had seemed to imply, definitively, that they were, but it wouldn't be the first time he's apparently died. (it's a thing that doesn't stick, apparently.)
the longer he's here though, the more he thinks that maybe they are. it's not a thought he vocalises because he has to believe that they're not and that there's a way back home if — well, if not for him, then for everyone else. a way to stop the world eaters. a way to sort all of this out.
he doesn't go in to the church — it's not that he feels unwelcome there, not at all, it's more that he prefers to be alone. prayer for him tends to be about—
he has a complicated relationship with god; he has questions about what and why, and he knows, always, what the answer would be: that the mystery's the point, he'd be bored and grumpy if he had all of the answers, blah blah blah. but in spite of that, it doesn't stop him from asking and from complaining.
after the event with the food and the dreams, it means peter's only got more of the above. he knows he's only got himself to blame for eating the food, he should have known better. not only is half the town destroyed (again), but robin's— what? they don't know. he's still not sure if he trusts her, but in spite of himself, he cares for her and even if he didn't, he's not sure that he could just sit idly by and watch whilst she was— tortured? attacked? who knows.
but going to the lighthouse is an issue all and of itself. the last time they'd gone, the town had been attacked (again: again), they'd had even more casualties than they had this time around. does he want to risk that? he'd been furious when aziraphale and crowley had tried to commandeer the ferry and leave, risked everyone for the sake of vanity. wouldn't that be the same? he feels guilty so he wants to do something to make it better.
(hypocrisy is thy name, peter parker. ugh.)
he wants an easy answer (he knows it's not going to come); he wants to feel better about himself (he knows that's not going to happen, either); he wants to know that may and mj and everyone back home is okay (probably not going to happen, but like, marginally more likely than any of the above, right?).
he's on top of the church, then, by the bell tower. since gaining a roommate, he's had to consider the logistics of the suit and civilian clothing, so he's had to consider leaving rucksacks of clothes in obscure locations that no-one else will think to look (reasonably speaking). webbing them is — not an ideal solution, given the limited supply and the limited resources to worry about the formula and making it so that it lasts longer (and god knows the issues he'd had with otto's new and improved formula), so in this instance, the rucksack is something he'd brought with him. he doesn't imagine, really, that he's about to be doing any spider-man related activities, it's just that ... the black blends in with the darkness better, alright? ]
Shamelessly taking this from another prayer-related tag I just wrote, ahem
Still... the sound...
A prayer is like a small sliver of melody that trickles through the fabric of the universe, like a shooting star in slow motion, like the poetry of an opening door. Always vibrant, always unique. Sometimes loud with desperation or brilliant with conviction or inviting with genuine, unrehearsed intent.
Prayers have not been unheard of in Beacon - they've just been rare.
This one is faint and subtle, barely a prayer and more a longing, a question marked in pencil, half-erased.
Castiel follows it.
If there is nothing else he can do in Beacon, perhaps he can answer prayers, whether they be directed at him or not. It's easier to pick them up on Thursdays anyway.
There's the sound of rustling feathers behind Peter, the soft rush of displaced air.
Castiel is momentarily confused by the figure he finds there, atop the church. Just looks at him for a good long moment, head tilting slightly sideways in contemplation. ]
Hello, Peter.
no subject
his expression isn't readable, not beneath the mask, but there's a quick movement to his head as he takes in the sight of castiel that says he's surprised even if, logically speaking, he knows he shouldn't be. ordinarily, there'd be an immediate joke, something dismissive to break the ice but then castiel says peter and he finds himself at a temporary loss for words.
doesn't anyone respect the concept of the mask? the idea of a secret identity?
he looks down at the roof of the church; pauses, just for a second, then: ] I thought angels were supposed to go on the tops of trees, not non-denominational churches.
no subject
He waits, though. Patient and silent until Peter speaks, at which point he gesturesat the rooftop beneath them, and almost gently counters: ]
I thought prayers were customarily uttered from within churches, rathern than atop.
no subject
[ if he sounds tetchy, it's because he hadn't expected to be bothered, hadn't expected that his internal monologue of hey, it's me, peter, can I just get a bit of clarity on what exactly is going on with my life for the nth time would manage to draw any attention.
he thinks that he could have asked, that he should have given it a little more thought, but it's a little late for that now. he wonders, briefly, if there's a reason castiel had — heard (question mark) him, but he can come back to that question later. he wonders, too, if it was specifics castiel had heard or just general feelings rather than thoughts. it's a disquieting, almost discomforting thought and he's suddenly not entirely sure how he feels about the fact that castiel apparently is confirmation of faith. (to an extent.)
(no, that's a lie. truthfully, he thinks he feels a little sick.
or that could just be the fact that he's tired, who knows.) ]
no subject
[ Castiel falls silent again, then blinks, too blue eyes widening a little. It occurs to him that the statement is rather harsh, especially towards someone who apparently has some level of faith, and is... testy, for lack of a better words, with the specifics of Castiel's existence.
He holds up a hand, palm out. The gesture is almost apologetic, if slightly stilted and awkward. ]
God is... absent.
[ Castiel does not specifiy whether he means here in Beacon... or generally speaking. ]
It doesn't mean prayers go unheard, even the informal ones. Yours was... subtle. I might have missed it, were it not my day.
[ His user name on the network is
I intruded. My apologies.
no subject
(peter, castiel had said. there wasn't really any point in denying it: castiel had been able to tell his name from their first meeting on the beach. is it annoying? sure, but it wasn't really any different to jonah knowing, or johnny, or felicia, or any of the avengers, or—
god, he really needed to work on the secret identity thing, didn't he?)
his lips quirk downwards, just for a second, and a flicker of hesitation crosses his features. ] No, I—. [ beat. ] I didn't think, [ he admits, somewhere between sheepish and resigned. another pause, then: ] Why?
no subject
Castiel steps closer, but doesn't look at Peter. His gaze sweeps out, instead. Over the darkness around them, as far as the lights allow their eyes wander. Beacon feels small, and Castiel hates how it cripples his senses and abilities.
He sees the ruin of Ignis' face.
It should have been him. ]
Because mine were never answered.
[ He's quiet for another moment or two, gaze steady but distant. He's here for Peter, but in this moment it's perhaps easy to see that he carries his own burdens. Finally, he looks back at the man and his strange pyjamas. ]
Prayers can be distinct words, but they don't have to be as formal as that. Intense feelings of longing, of faith, or of related contemplation translate as well, if not as distinctly.
no subject
[ is all peter says at first, though he doesn't bother clarifying if it's in relation to the first remark or the second. he wants to point out that it's not as if prayers go habitaully answered in his experience, not in any ways that they are perhaps capable of picking up on, but perhaps it's different for angels. perhaps that's the issue: "god is absent", "my prayers weren't answered". doubt's a hell of a thing to try and come to terms with if you've never had to experience it before.
it's easier, too, to focus on the fact that castiel's bothered by something. it's not really there in how he looks, but in how he stands, the way that his focus is on beacon but doesn't really seem to see it.
peter hasn't asked him yet if he'd spent the last two weeks asleep or fighting in the town, but at a guess, peter would say that whatever the issue is, it's related to that period of time. ] You know, I was using conversation figuratively, right? Monologue's probably the better term. I complain, God doesn't so much as answer as just— [ peter waves a hand vaguely and dismissively ], I feel a little bit better about things, sometimes a little bit worse, then I go on my merry way. [ generally towards the sound of sirens or screaming, but: semantics. ]
I don't expect an answer. Nothing's that easy.