thursdays_angel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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milliways_bar2010-03-22 08:55 pm
thursdays_angel) wrote in milliways_bar2010-03-22 08:55 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
[OOM: In the year 2013, Castiel gets by with a little help from his friends.]
A not-quite-man on crutches clumsily makes his way into the bar.
He may be familiar to you. From this side of the door, he hasn’t been away for very long.
Everything about him speaks of an existence that has grown shabby and threadbare. His jeans and button-down shirt are worn and frayed. He seems to be wearing an old ski boot in lieu of a cast. The crutches have seen better days; one of them sports a small pink Hello Kitty backpack, held on by a quantity of grey duct tape. His hair is unkempt and he is sporting about three days worth of stubble.
And yet Milliways, as far as Castiel can tell, hasn’t changed at all.
He had been thinking about it, for the first time in a long time, sitting in his cabin at Camp Chitaqua. And now, just like he has conjured it, here it is.
There’s really only one thing to do.
Castiel starts to laugh. Hard. And he shows no signs of stopping.
[OOC: You are all beyond awesome, but I must beg slowtime. As a favor, no new tag-ins? The cup runneth over. I'll catch tags tomorrow.]
A not-quite-man on crutches clumsily makes his way into the bar.
He may be familiar to you. From this side of the door, he hasn’t been away for very long.
Everything about him speaks of an existence that has grown shabby and threadbare. His jeans and button-down shirt are worn and frayed. He seems to be wearing an old ski boot in lieu of a cast. The crutches have seen better days; one of them sports a small pink Hello Kitty backpack, held on by a quantity of grey duct tape. His hair is unkempt and he is sporting about three days worth of stubble.
And yet Milliways, as far as Castiel can tell, hasn’t changed at all.
He had been thinking about it, for the first time in a long time, sitting in his cabin at Camp Chitaqua. And now, just like he has conjured it, here it is.
There’s really only one thing to do.
Castiel starts to laugh. Hard. And he shows no signs of stopping.
[OOC: You are all beyond awesome, but I must beg slowtime. As a favor, no new tag-ins? The cup runneth over. I'll catch tags tomorrow.]
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No real way of hedging around it. Not without blatant dishonesty.
And he thinks too much of Meg for that.
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Oh.
"You're not using that metaphorically, are you?"
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He's gotten better at metaphor. But this time he's being quite literal.
"It has not gone well, thus far, I'm afraid. For our side."
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And she has no idea what to say here.
After all, I'm sorry to hear that doesn't begin to be an adequate response to We're losing the Apocalypse."
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"Perhaps I've spoken too freely."
For a moment, he sounds like the Castiel who once was.
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And it's reassuring and disconcerting all at once.
Meg shakes her head. "No.
"I just . . . don't know what to say."
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All you can really do is ride it.
To its inevitable end.
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"As am I."
"I haven't had hope in quite some time. This restores at least a little of it."
Maybe just enough to crush him later. But even knowing that, he'll take it.