[ 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. ]
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.