milliways_bar | (no subject)

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There is a man in a suit and trench coat standing stock still in the middle of the bar.

Castiel is perfectly at ease; arms at his sides, occasionally turning his head to observe the comings and goings around him.

Just taking everything in.

That is why he was sent here. To learn from what he finds. Learning requires observation.

Of course, he's still getting used to inhabiting a corporeal body. It may not have occurred to him yet that, standing as he is in the path of patron traffic, he might be in anyone's way.

[OOC: If you are playing a demon this evening, please ping me before tagging at IFeelLikeAJoan. Many thanks!]

[Tiny Tag: Castiel]

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This is a more difficult question to answer. There's no true name for it yet, and they aren't known enough by those not like them to, well, be called something.

So she goes with what her father called it, after she first manifested -

"Different."

Special. (She pointedly doesn't choose freak.)

"Everyone is."

Different. And special.

Castiel's Father has always been very particular to make sure each of his creations is so.

There is a pause.

"My name is Castiel."

He's long out of practice at introducing himself. It shows.

She shakes her head, slightly.

There's a light, childlike tone in her voice, but she doesn't smile, and doesn't look smug about it when she answers, "Not like me."

And there's a pause (Elle's not out of practice when it comes to introducing herself, but she doesn't care to get used to it), before she replies, "I'm Elle."

Castiel nods. "Elle."

He studies her momentarily, head tilted to the side.

"You feel set apart. Alone?"

It is good to know that one was made special and unique. It is another to feel isolated. Castiel has seen a great deal of grief come from the latter.

Elle blinks.

"I -"

- don't have anyone

"- no." She stumbles over it, more than she almost ever normally would, but she mentally forces the question into being something she could answer, and continues, "It's not only me."

He looks at her quizzically. Frowning. Confused.

"What's the matter?"

She's lying. He's fairly certain of that. But he is unclear as to why.

"Nothing."

Her voice has smoothed over, expression faded back into something blank. It's no poker face, as Elle has nothing like that; it only betrays no emotion. "But - most people aren't like me."

Most isn't everyone

"No. Most people cannot hold lightning."

He's not certain what that says of this woman. Whether it bodes good or ill of her. Many motals with powers such as that gained or were given them by dark means.

But there are and have been others who are untouched by evil.

He is not sure where she falls.

Elle wouldn't know how to tell the difference.

But she quickly clarifies, "I do that. Other people do other things."

"Every person born is granted gifts," he says in agreement.

Not as strange as this one, perhaps. But each and every individual is gifted in their way.

Her eyebrows raise, and there's finally a small (still blank) smile on her face.

"You're really into that stuff, aren't you?"

The look she gets is one of thorough confusion. And it's only partly because he has to stop and mentally translate the slang.

"Into what stuff?"

"That whole - everyone's special thing."

The truth is, Elle hasn't heard talk like that since she was a very little girl.

"It is Truth."

He raises his eyebrows.

"My Father made each of his creations special. Each one a work of art in their own right."

Each one the more precious for their individual imperfections.

Now, it's Elle's turn to look confused.

"Who... are you?"

"Castiel," he says simply.

Well. She heard that he first time.

So she tries, "Who's your father?"

"God."

Castiel's Father has an infinite number of names in an infinite number of tongues. But they all, at their core, mean the same thing.

"Oh."

Elle doesn't know what to think of that, or even, really, what it means.

So she tries, "Sounds fun for you."

Frown. Mostly of puzzlement.

"It is not...fun," Castiel says.

It's not horrible, either. Castiel does not think to define is existence in terms like this for the most part.

"It simply is. I am as I was created to be."

"Okay."

She decides against explaining her sarcasm.

"What were you 'created to be?'"

[ooc: Hey, is there any chance you'd like to continue this?]

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