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 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.