CONTEMPLATIVENESS SINGS THROUGH : and reveals itself around the roots ; the crisp young leaf, bronze-orange ; the grass-blades tripping in lines, a resistant emerald unilluminated by light throwing shallow shade, but instead by streaks of sun flooding foliage as from founts. Between beam and gloom, they become updrawn : tan is heavyweight upon their shoulders, but they carry it well. Saffron and emerald and cinnabar ( they have observed the awakening buds before them, obstinate even prior to facing wintertide ) do not compare to grace-fueled sapphire.
Eyes that peer at the expanse before them, life waving aloft to its grain ; reverberant over the plain ; then settle on a voice that is seemingly uplifted by the breeze—and far from hideousness of hoof and horn. Far from wallowing deviltry and what may reek from a lair given to bones. Their brow is bent on them, and they admit :
❛ I intended to conceal it more, given the opportunity. ❜
They retell it inwardly : turning again to the ancient difficult steeps of Heaven, and there alone they pine ; the peculiar passions of their vessel-given heart tearing them and rending their being. And here they dwell, missing the heavens, and the white peaks ; that garden where smiles are afoot, and the light air of old. There, in their stead, finding the soft sweet sun of the vale ; the clouds which veil the skies when necessary, only when the rains must feed the streams of replicated life. Gates like a pure draught of wine.
( and so went the long road of good intentions. )
Still, Castiel is buoyed by curiosity, for they are like a white sunbeam from the dear bright earth. ❛ You are also transcendental. I am reminded of rained-upon soil, of early-morning dewdrops ; of breathing life into man until rose erases their pallor, yet that is not accurate enough. ❜
Perilous even here : daring to touch the nerve of CHANGE. Wisdom rising central in complexity despite change being on their wings to bud.
❝ conceal it more ? why should you hide what you are. humanity will always, eventually, wilt before you no matter your shape ( infinitesimal as you are ) — concealing yourself for their sake ? to walk among them, to learn of them & see their world is a blessing that will only last you so long. you do not seem to be one who has not already seen their worst & their best. it would do you well, I think, to respect your own creation in their wake. for whomever shaped you surely saw purpose in your form, no ? ❞ straightening up with a partial smile on their lips, kaleidoscopes gaze as ancient as the one before them. ❝ I do not think this is a place where you would benefit from concealment. it is taxing. but that is not the conversation you seek. ❞ ( they did not need eyes to witness this creatures light, the bright magnificence of divinity crafted immortality curling before them ); rocking back on their heels with a hum of consideration.
a song in a language oh so unfamiliar. the soft cadence of ancient thought ( tremor of the cosmos ) — a tune oh so much like their own sordid history. ishtar’s wrath upon the high heavens.
careful though, a curiosity innate to their crafted form. enkidu had never possessed mans distrust of knowledge ( their fear in shared wealth ). moving to sit next to the other; the sweep of natures promise, the breath of the planet in all things. ❝ ah, I believe this is not a question as interesting as you would imply. I am not of anything, truly, for my purpose has long since been fulfilled. I believe most would refer to a thing such as myself the same way one would look upon a vessel with to much magic left behind — godly residue, yes ? the leftover mark of something much more necessary to the careful balance. it is surely a sordid, unwieldy thing. but what of yourself ? I know my own form is crafted by the same soil I was grown from, but you do not seem born into the shape you inhabit. ❞
