His curiosity with the angel’s supposedly fallen state had abated as soon as he had explained. Closing his eyes as he pondered, the man came to the realization that like him, Castiel was persecuted by his brethren for just doing the right thing. People tend to shift the blame onto people who disagreed with them, and it seemed angels, in this world at least, were not exempt to this.
“I understand, Castiel,” Xalroc began, pleased to finally learn of the angel’s name, “So it seems fallen angels don’t necessarily mean you turned back on your duty, as in your case. I have to admit, I’m rather confused. If it was your God’s Will you were following, then aren’t your hostile brethren acting the fallen ones? In either case, I feel rather at ease now, knowing your name. My name’s Xalroc.” The blessed mortal held out a hand for the celestial to shake.
Now it was Xalroc’s turn to listen. He leaned his ear closer to Castiel’s, not looking him in the eye, but intently taking in his words all the same. While he had his own reasons for being unable to follow Flip’s appeal, the angel did have a point. Xalroc’s methods were admittedly tactless at times, if to size his potential opponent up for intimidation. He bowed his head as he pondered on this.
He felt a refreshing warmth as Castiel spoke. It wasn’t all too often that somebody would give him a proverbial pat on the back for a job well done. It was his job after all, but it always felt rewarding to be recognized for one’s efforts especially when it had been all that he was doing from the day he was trying to find more purpose for his life. This gave Xalroc the serenity he needed to digest Castiel’s and Flip’s advice to heart.
Perhaps he needed to be more sensitive, first and foremost.
“Admittedly I still can’t see how these creatures work for the greater good, but I do appreciate your recognition. I know, and I’m sure you know, that it’s both our job nonetheless, but it’s quite nice to know I’ve been doing well. Thank you, Castiel.”
The man leaned back, the tension in his being gone. He looked skyward and sighed in relief. Castiel’s gesture was rather surprising, as he never thought he would offer his company. Nevertheless, Xalroc would oblige, with a slight condition, at least.
“That sounds like a plan. Though forgive me if I would prefer not to have alcohol in my drinks – they suppress my connection with the Source, I’m afraid. Don’t mind me though if you wish your drinks ‘spiked’, as it were.”
“It is both a blessing and a curse that my kind operate almost exclusively on blind faith where my Father is concerned. It doesn’t occur to anyone to question it. That is why the rouge Angels get away with it. Normally if something so drastic came about...” he trailed off, swallowing the rest of the sentence like a bitter rising of bile. “We don’t know where He is. So it’s my word against theirs for anyone who hasn’t witnessed what is happening. Everyone simply assumes that it’s divine will.”
Castiel pressed his lips to a line and pressed the matter to the back of his mind. In the early hours whilst alone he would return to dwell on the dilemma per usual. He shook the other’s hand with firm pressure.
“I know. I see it written in your Soul.” he replied, turning to lead Xalroc down the street. “Whether or not you imbibe is your choice. I do from time to time as a social gesture because it reminds me of partaking in celebratory ales after Demonic battles with my battalion. It takes far too much Human made alcohol to achieve a drunken state.”
His Vessel’s dress shoes clacked softly on the sidewalk, trenchcoat swishing minimally from the way his arms hung stiffly at his sides. This part of town held a bar every few blocks, so the neon wash of color was soon bleeding over the pavement ahead.
“You are all threads in a grand tapestry, fearfully and wonderfully woven through time and space. The purpose of each individual strand can be difficult to discern unless we step back to observe the bigger picture. Perhaps it would do the both of us good to have a short span of company and conversation without animosity to sour our senses.”
The Angel pushed the bar door open, sounding an off-key jingle from above to announce their presence to the bartender.
