[ He doesn't ask if he will be welcome;
He doesn't question his own reasons. ]
Inias merely seeks for Dean. He doesn't expect to find him-- his grace ever-fades, he is kept to his vessels feet firm against the earth, grounded like a wounded bird. There is an ache in his chest that spurs him on down this path. It speaks of a lost home he left intentionally but did not think he would forever lose. It whispers of his desire for a new place to call home, and however brief their encounter, he knows of Castiel and his friendship with the Winchester and wishes with a deep desire that he can have the same--
He stands in front of the place that he imagines they call their-- home. In a sudden and disorientatingly human moment, Inias wonders what to do. Does he-- knock?
. — So I’ll be rebooting this blog soon. Not much will change, I just need to touch up the about pages and change the theme. This is just an announcement. Also replies soon.
Though he's not entirely sure what he's holding out this time is right either. Process of elimination, Inias supposes. There's the briefest flicker of curiosity at what Dean needs the tool for... and whether or not he is recognized. Is it relief, that it seems he isn't?
The loss, the loss of so many brothers, it had hurt.
For Ananchel feels the loss of each grace, everytime a blade is forced into an angel’s being, and their grace escapes, oh, Ananchel feels it s l i d e into oblivion.
& losing your garrison.
A shame, for Ananchel never had his own garrison, he was too familiar with all the angels, too high, the eighth angel, not quite an Archangel, but close.
The Angel of Grace was to be [ alone ]
And now he is, more than ever. }
”—You did right, brother. You did well. I am proud.”
[ The sting this time is b r i g h t e r , sharper, but it is...
ephemeral.
But the words; simple, spoken, human and damning all at once, they soothe him. His grace flares, needy and desperate like he is a fledgling again and only his elders can direct him down the proper path and make sure he is not led astray.
Is that what he lost, when he left Heaven?
In this tangible meeting between two lost brethren of the skies,
Inias feels like he can surmount all the troubles that stand before him.
It is-- divine, this feeling. ]
"Stay with me."
[ A plea he had not expected to make,
but oh it is genuine and makes his Grace ache. ]
It'd been decades since he'd visited his favorite Earthly city, but it seemed a... logical place to go, when one was near the end of one life and on the brink of a frightening and strange new one. He also had a larger purpose; he intended to visit the famed Sherlock Holmes.
Or, rather observe him. It'd been his habit as a full-fledged Angel to watch certain humans, and while Holmes may never have been among them, he sparked Inias' curiosity.
So he stands across the street from the mans flat, and stared upwards.
She was weakened, that much was true, but in a darkly humorous twist of events, Anna had managed to cling onto more of her Grace than many of the other angels had. It was fading fast, but her powers (for now) worked almost as well as they always had. It seemed simply to be a matter of preserving it.
And that had been what had led her to Inias. The faint buzz of Grace, permeating the atmosphere. She had not thought there would be any other angels left who held their powers, aside from the few others she had found.
They were all headed in the same direction in the end, either way.
Her Gяacє was like the sun, a warm light in the chill that made his vessels fingers tingle. It only served to remind him all the more, like a thorn in his side--
This too shall pass.
"Yes," Inias agreed quietly, a quiet warmth colored his words and a small smile graced his face as his attention was diverted from his task. The hunt would wait; for the moment. There would have been a time where he would have been on his guard in her presence, or apologized and left- but they are all unfairly equal now.
"You are--" He paused, chose his next words carefully--
And all along I believed I would f i n d you
Time has brought your h e a r t to me
I have l o v e d you for a thousand years
I’ll l o v e you for a thousand more
Inias stands there, silently, on the edge of town-- contemplating.
The air is hot and heavy with humidity, but it doesn't bother him as much as he thought it would. There is some grace left in you yet. A quiet thought, but not happy. That too, soon, will be gone. And Inias will have nothing left but this false mortal life he has wrought. --Footsteps break him out of his reverie, and he speaks without turning.
There's an instance of recognition at the humanity of his act when he observes Castiel's reaction, and Inias bows his head for a moment. It is only a spark- the faintest flicker that hints towards the long journey he has undertaken, but it speaks to him. It whispers of the bleak future, wingless, graceless...
---- f a l l e n.
Not today. Not for years, though, and Inias takes courage in that, and draws support from his brethrens presence, no matter the guilt that tinges the encounter. He can hardly help his flinch at the question that- yes- he knew was coming, but dreaded-- and Inias closes his eyes against the cold. "There was no purpose I could serve there." His words are soft, nearly unspoken, but they grow stronger with each passing second and his vessels eyes flutter open again.
" Not when-- " A glance away. " --those I fought beside are gone, and nothing was done to aid them, though we called. " His voice breaks on the last word, and Inias takes a moment to quiet himself.
It was not entirely Heavens fault.
...Inias could have called, could have done something, something more, something less, he hardly knows anymore in these too-bright days and bleak nights -- but it is past. Done. Finite, gone in a flash, and nothing will change that- not even their Father in Heaven above, nor any of the multitude of angels.
He will not dwell on it. He dwells on it too much already, everything that could have gone differently, and yes, there...there is a seed. The tiniest seed of rebellion. that lurks in his actions. Oh, he does tell himself he is following in Castiel's footsteps- emulating his brother, but there is a selfishness to the task he has taken upon himself, a selfishness he is sure Castiel does not have in his own pursuits.
His mouth loosens, lips parting slightly as he smiles- barely there, but present nevertheless, and quietly fond and slightly broken- at Castiel. There is the very human impulse to draw yet more comfort, but Inias doesn't. It was never their way
But he wishes it was.
There is a hesitation before he speaks again, but while, yes, there is that ever-present guilt, there is also the lack of a fear of being judged. Because despite it all, Inias feels that, perhaps, he and Castiel are similar now.
" I thought to reflect you. " A million and one questions race through his head, each quickly discarded, and that is what comes out. It's well enough, though-- it needs to be said. " I may have. Or I may have not. " His smile returns, slight and hopeful. " But I have a new path now. One here on Earth. "
Even if he is not fallen, himself, the realization that it will come, in time sinks in, and adds a bitter tint of grey to the brightness of this meeting, souring it but not ruining it.
He cannot help but reach out, now, vessels fingers brushing against the shoulder of his kin. The lightest of touches.
Tremble little lion man,
You’ll never settle any of your scores
Your grace is wasted in your face,
Your boldness stands alone among the rank
Now learn from your mother or
spend your days biting your own neck
Little Lion Man - Mumford & Sons
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