The world is cold, hard, bright when it finally claws through the surface. Its mouth opens and gulps down fresh air that it doesn’t need, but it missed it all the more because of that. Heaving its body from the dirt takes more effort than it had anticipated. By the time it lay on its back to stare at the dead suns populating the dark sky, its newly rebuilt muscles are crying for relief. It has never felt a pain so rewarding.
“You can’t do this, Anael,” he says, voice low and pleading in a way that she never could have imagined before the Winchesters got their hands on his wings and dragged him down, down, where the humans lie.
A part of her agrees, the part that rebelled in the beginning and fell, the part that let Dean Winchester get his hands on her and pull her down, the part that thinks of Castiel as so much more than the broken puppet Heaven thinks him to be.
But it’s the other part of her, the part that remembers how he fed her to the Host without batting an eyelash, the part that has been torn and recreated in “God’s” image, that lifts her chin and tells him, “Try and stop me.
krnyong said: Sibilant
~ * ~
She takes one step towards me, slow and measure like she’s rehearsed this a thousand times. On second thought, maybe she has. Who knows how much free time a woman like her has, given the years in captivity and all. Even still she looks like the picture from a magazine, slim and somehow graceful even when she’s just standing there. I should get myself locked away in an urn, I ponder as her yellow eyes lock onto mine. It’s certainly better than what my freedom’s brought me.
I breathe in deep, lungs expanding. This is it, I think, my eyes trained on the stage. I can already hear the rabble of the crowd. My audience.
So this one time I wrote an almost Labyrinth AU where Jared(Jareth) saved Sarah and Toby from drowning in a lake and then tried to be her best friend even though he was this British exchange student senior and Sarah was an awkward sophomore nobody…
It was kind of awesome. (~2k)
He is born in the shadows, the bastard son of a rich man that can afford no loose ends. But his mother loves him, keeps him safe and teaches him that the dark is nothing to be afraid; it is just a friend you haven’t met yet. She cannot stay with him always, she explains as she rocks him to sleep. As a servant she has duties to do; her absence will be noted and if that happens they will come for him.
“Leave!” he shouts over the cacophony of noise that erupts from the cracking floor. His hands hurt from holding onto the edge so hard, but he can’t let go just yet, can’t let his head slip down where he can’t see her because she’s still right there. Her blue eyes are wide with fear, hands white-knuckled on the doorjamb that she clings too as she looks for the safest way to get to him. “Run, you stupid girl!”
“I’m not leaving you!” she screams back, voice half lost when part of the ceiling gives way just to the left of her. She shrieks and cowers, but starts to take a step onto the unstable floor. She’s going to come for him, risk her life for the pathetic creature that had brought her to this point, and she’s probably going to die trying. He watches her closely as he starts to loosen his grip on the edge. “Don’t you let go.” She’s not looking at him, but her voice is a steady command. “If you let go I’ll never forgive you.”
He doesn’t say what will happen if he doesn’t let go. He’s never truly won an argument with her and that probably isn’t going to change now. So he drinks her in as she tries to take another step, murmurs a soft apology that he knows she can’t hear, and his fingers lose their hold on the edge.
His face is wet, tacky with blood both fresh and drying. It should be disgusting, but it’s not, it’s not. He’s pulling me into the warm circle of his arms, his lips moving silently over my name as I bury my face into the center of his chest to sob his. Blood stained hands thread through my hair, his split lips pressing kisses into the top of my skull as we cling to each other desperately. I can feel the sweat sinking from his skin into my clothes, the gore from his hands leaving streaks where ever he touches me. It should be revolting, but it’s not, it’s not.
“We’re alive.” I’m not sure which of us found the voice to say it, but once the words are out they hang heavy between us. He forces me back to arm’s length, holding my upper arms as his eyes slide over my face. Whether from the adrenaline coursing through his veins or the contrast of the dark blood on his face, his eyes seem to glow fluorescent blue. “You’re alive,” he tells me, his voice broken and awed as if the thought is all he needs in that moment and my heart breaks.
My hands are at his neck, fighting off his gentle grip so I can pull his face to mine. “You’re alive,” he whimpers into the kiss, hands pawing at my back to pull me closer and I put all I can into my response to let him know that it’s true. “You’re alive.” He keeps breathing it over and over again, like if he stops I cease to exist so I keep pressing kisses softly into his bruised mouth.
The bar was beyond crowded; one move in any direction, however minor, would send people crashing together in an attempt to maintain their own space. Probably just shy of one hundred humans packed into one tiny space in search of something that could give them reason. Like they knew they were prey for something larger than themselves and they had come out to tempt the demons that lurked just in the shadows of large crowds much like this one. Demons like the one at the bar, eying the pretty young thing who had just arrived and ordered a drink.
“Secrets really are dreadful things to keep.” She keeps her voice low, teasing as she lightly plays the crop against the hard line of his jaw. “Terrible for your health, my dear.” He clenches his teeth and jerks his head away from her, letting the end of the crop fall to his exposed collar bone.
“Secrets are a sweeter poison than lies,” he retorts, acid in his breath. “More becoming as well, or so I’m told.”