[ Does he struggle with it? Waking up doesn't feel like a struggle. Facing the reality that he hasn't just faded into nothing with a quiet Good night. With his cheek pressed to the back of his hand, Vanitas stares at his tablet for a few long moments before answering. ]
[ It's not a question he should answer. Not a weapon he should hand someone who's confessed to wanting to hurt him. But when has Castiel ever made good choices. ]
Yes.
[ It's surprisingly easy to confess this to someone who doesn't care about him.
Freedom is a length of rope. God wants you to hang yourself with it. ]
[ It is the kind of ammunition Vanitas might use against him. Finding the hurt, pressing on it, welling those negative emotions to the surface are what Vanitas thrives on.
Only...
Only he's starting to learn, that he isn't the only one that exists in this existential despair every waking moment of his life. He isn't sure what he expects Castiel to answer with, but it isn't an affirmation. ]
[ Castiel takes a breath. He doesn't need it, technically. And still... he needs it. ]
My Father burdened me with purpose in resurrection, too.
[ At least he'd thought so initially. Brought back as a tool for one war he chose to fight, and one he had no choice but to lead. No purpose, no glory, no reward - just punishment for the mistakes of Castiel's existence. ]
[ Father, huh? He'd never considered Xehanort something like that. Vanitas never had a family. Even Ventus and Sora, the way he bandied about the term brother— it was all some false, ugly joke at the expense of himself and the universe. ]
[ The terminology is strange to most mortals. Other angels are brothers and sisters, kin, but they're not blood. They're a people, yet not. Their Father is their maker, and they are His children as humans are. And yet it's not quite family.
Family doesn't end in blood, as Castiel as learned. The Winchesters are his family, despite the lack of actual relation. ]
At the beach I thought your prayer was for her to save you. Was it for release?
A prayer is an invocation or act that seeks to activate a rapport with an object of worship through deliberate communication. In the narrow sense, the term refers to an act of supplication or intercession directed towards a deity, or a deified ancestor.
It can take a variety of forms: it can be part of a set liturgy or ritual, and it can be performed alone or in groups. Prayer may take the form of a hymn, incantation, formal creedal statement, or a spontaneous utterance in the praying person.
More importantly, it need not be so formal. A prayer can be a strong sense of longing or yearning for someone or something. For salvation. For aid. For mercy. For death.
[ Lucky nobody is around to see the way Vanitas goes red, a flush of embarrassment that makes him warm from head to foot. Had he, when he hit the beach, in a moment of weakness, really thought of her?
He's never been the kind of person to call out for another person, not on purpose, despite the way his heart yearns so violently to be whole, or at the very least, for peace. He's only ever been alone. Who would he even call for? ]
I didn't mean to.
[ But more than that...
He's struck with the idea that someone would have answered at all. ]
That impacts neither the validity nor intensity of your feelings. A prayer comes into existence for a reason. It shouldn't go unanswered.
[ None of Castiel's prayers have ever received answer. He can't fix himself, he can't help himself. What he can do is answer other people's prayers - even if he may not always be the answer they wish to receive. ]
[ Vanitas understands the idea of it. He might even go so far as to say he's bore witness to such a thing before— but the real question isn't what a prayer is. Or how it works. If Vanitas had sent one out, what had he meant by it?
The truth is he doesn't even remember invoking her name. Finally, after a few long minutes, he sends back: ]
[ Castiel's mind and being work differently. There's little that can disorient his memory. He can pass out under extreme circumstances, but his memory has no mercy on him. His mind stays sharp and present until he goes under.
Few things make an angel pass out.
Very few.
He's not quite sure why but... in light of their conversation, Castiel adds: ]
I would have done more had I been able to. Or less had you been able to make the request.
Of that I have no doubt. I do believe we'll have to postpone until your wounds have healed. I wouldn't dare rob you of the illusion of chance, after all.
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Do you?
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Yes.
[ It's surprisingly easy to confess this to someone who doesn't care about him.
Freedom is a length of rope. God wants you to hang yourself with it. ]
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Only...
Only he's starting to learn, that he isn't the only one that exists in this existential despair every waking moment of his life. He isn't sure what he expects Castiel to answer with, but it isn't an affirmation. ]
I should have faded away long ago, too.
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What kept you from your peace?
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And then I was here.
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My Father burdened me with purpose in resurrection, too.
[ At least he'd thought so initially. Brought back as a tool for one war he chose to fight, and one he had no choice but to lead. No purpose, no glory, no reward - just punishment for the mistakes of Castiel's existence. ]
And what about your resurrections here?
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What about them?
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Family doesn't end in blood, as Castiel as learned. The Winchesters are his family, despite the lack of actual relation. ]
At the beach I thought your prayer was for her to save you. Was it for release?
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Prayer?
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A prayer is an invocation or act that seeks to activate a rapport with an object of worship through deliberate communication. In the narrow sense, the term refers to an act of supplication or intercession directed towards a deity, or a deified ancestor.
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More importantly, it need not be so formal. A prayer can be a strong sense of longing or yearning for someone or something. For salvation. For aid. For mercy. For death.
You longed for Dr. Solis before you passed out.
I apologize that it was I who heard and answered.
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He's never been the kind of person to call out for another person, not on purpose, despite the way his heart yearns so violently to be whole, or at the very least, for peace. He's only ever been alone. Who would he even call for? ]
I didn't mean to.
[ But more than that...
He's struck with the idea that someone would have answered at all. ]
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[ None of Castiel's prayers have ever received answer. He can't fix himself, he can't help himself. What he can do is answer other people's prayers - even if he may not always be the answer they wish to receive. ]
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The truth is he doesn't even remember invoking her name. Finally, after a few long minutes, he sends back: ]
I don't remember.
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[ Castiel's mind and being work differently. There's little that can disorient his memory. He can pass out under extreme circumstances, but his memory has no mercy on him. His mind stays sharp and present until he goes under.
Few things make an angel pass out.
Very few.
He's not quite sure why but... in light of their conversation, Castiel adds: ]
I would have done more had I been able to. Or less had you been able to make the request.
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[ It's true of Vanitas, anyway. Pain begets Darkness, and that is where his power comes from. Not just figuratively, but literally. ]
It's done. If you regret it, it's too late to take it back.
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I'd like to see you try.
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[ That's a challenge Castiel could rise to. He shakes his head, lips curled into a small smirk. ]
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Go on, underestimate me. You'll get what's coming to you.
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[ But he's right. As he is, Vanitas wouldn't have a ghost of a chance. ]
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Magic doesn't work right in this place.
[ Then, after a pause that somehow manages to be awkward even over text: ]
It's fine. I've had worse.
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