006 [Video]

[ofthursday]

[Bike-riding aside, Castiel usually only posts to the network when he has something important to say. He's about to break pattern, because while there are various things to address--like people exploding--none of that is currently as pressing as the situation he's found himself in.

Castiel had been napping at the kitchen table, minding his own business, until he'd been suddenly awoken by being generally uncomfortable. It had taken a moment to figure out why, but it's very obvious as he turns on the bracelet, looking not at all amused.

Massive black wings are partially visible in frame, folded against his back; the wrist joint is arcing almost a foot over his head, and though it's impossible to see at the angle, the tips of his primary feathers are just above the floor. His wingspan is probably a good fourteen feet.]

This is not amusing.

[He is so incredibly displeased. How had this even happened? He still looks just as annoyed, but slightly more uncertain as he asks his next question.]

Has anything like this happened to anyone else?

Comments

video -> action;

[minifridge]

[She nods in triumph agreement.]

Okay, I'll see you soon? Try not to, um... go near the stove.

[And with that, she hangs up.

Only to knock about half an hour later. It's a long walk, okay.]

action;

[ofthursday]

[Why the stove...? But he doesn't ask, and when he hears the knock he goes to open the door for her.]

action;

[minifridge]

[When he answers the door, it takes her a minute to actually say anything. She's too busy staring at him- his enormous, looming, cartoonishly, obnoxiously large wings.]

Wow. They're gorgeous.

action;

[ofthursday]

[Castiel just watches her stare, unbothered--angels do this all the time--but at her comment he tilts his head slightly and then glances away a moment. He's not sure how to take the compliments he's been getting on them.]

They're inconvenient.

action;

[minifridge]

[She gives him a sympathetic look briefly before turning her attention back to the wings. The sunlight reflecting off the door frame gives her an idea.]

Can you come outside- I mean, can you get them through the door?

action;

[ofthursday]

I believe so.

[He has to go sideways and lowers his wings until the ends brush against the ground, but he does manage to get out the door.]

[minifridge]

[Her jaw drops.

When the sunlight hits his wings, it creates an effect more beautiful even than she was expecting- bright sunlight reflecting the dark black of his feathers, but also a brilliant iridescence of colors underlying the black- deep blues, traces of gold, shimmering greens. It's stunning.

The first thing to pop out of her mouth is almost thoughtless.]

They have color.

[Something new that obviously came from here, and they have color.]

[ofthursday]

[Castiel takes the opportunity and the space to stretch them, opening both wings to their full length, creating a massive expanse of feathers that all glittered in the sun as he looked to verify Mary's statement for himself. She's right, and maybe they are beautiful, in a way.]

So they do.

[He understands the significance, though he isn't sure it applies in this situation, but still. Maybe he likes the wings a bit more, for the moment.]

[minifridge]

[Mary can't help but stare at the impressive, gorgeous expanse of wings, looking, in that moment, eerily similar to Dean when he first beheld them in that barn. The resemblance is uncanny.

Hold on, just give her a few more minutes to gawk.





Okay, she's good.]

Are they... like bird wings?

[ofthursday]

[Castiel actually notices the resemblance, and for a moment he remembers clearly being in that barn, meeting Dean the first time. How little they knew about each other or anything going on around them, and how simple it was.

He gives a small nod at her question.]

Yes. They are similar.

[minifridge]

So can you fly with them?

[ofthursday]

No. My human body is too heavy, even for wings this large.

[minifridge]

Ohhh.

[She takes a couple steps down the stoop backwards, to get a better look at his wingspan.]

They'd need to be at least fifteen feet long each. How do they feel?

[She can see them shaking just a little, the longer he keeps them spread.]

[ofthursday]

[Castiel briefly imagines being stuck with a thirty foot wingspan, and is slightly horrified. That would be awful, for the reason he answers Mary's question with.]

They're heavy.

[He finally pulls them closed, folding them again; it's either keep them out and stretched with the same kind of strain someone would feel holding their arms out to their sides for an extended period of time, or hold them folded. That's just as bad and keeping one's arms bent, and causes them to cramp up.

He's yet to find a comfortable position other than just letting them rest on the floor.]

[minifridge]

They are?

[Concernicus! That sounds terrible, and now that she really looks, he looks much more uncomfortable and put-out than he did last time she saw him. And that's including the bike-related dignity.

She has an idea.]

Why don't you have a seat- you can let your wings drape off the stoop.

[And she'll just be slipping around him and up to the top step, gesturing for him to go down a few steps. Trust her, Cas. :3]

[ofthursday]

[Castiel considers this idea for a moment, then sits down as suggested on the middle step. His wings unfold and stretch out to the sides, and lower to the ground to settle there. Instantly Castiel looks a bit better and less strained, though his feathers are getting tangled and dusty on the ground like this. He doesn't care.]

This is better. But I cannot sit all day for however long this lasts.

[minifridge]

I know, Cas.

[It's just instinctive, calling him that. Mary steps down and sits on the step above him, looking at his wings closely.]

Do they hurt?

[ofthursday]

[He doesn't mind it; even his siblings call him Cas half the time, now. The ones that are still alive, anyway.]

No.

[Not entirely true and not entirely a lie either; they don't actually hurt just yet, but the muscles feel sore and he's worn out already.]

There must be some way to make this easier.

[minifridge]

I don't know. It can't be good to stay so cramped like that.

[She hovers a hand over his wing, just near where the joint disappears into a slit in his coat.]

Can I-? [Touching him lightly.]

[ofthursday]

[He glances over his shoulder to see what she's asking and then nods slightly in permission, even though she's already touching. The wing her fingers make contact with shifts slightly, subconsciously, into the touch.]

[minifridge]

[The first touch was barely a brush of fingers- more a way for him to know what she was asking than anything else. At his permission, though, she touches him more confidently, running her hands over one wing carefully.]

They're so tense... [It must hurt. She presses slightly against the subconscious movement, then presses her thumb slowly against a hard line of tension and works it in a circle, massaging the cramped muscle around his "elbow" joint.]

[ofthursday]

[He isn't sure whether the massaging motion hurts or feels good, but he thinks it's the latter; no one's ever done this sort of thing before so it's something new to get used to. But his wing starts to relax a little bit, some of the cramping loosening.]

[minifridge]

[So she stays like that, gently working at the joint with the broad heel of her hand, the side of her hand, with three fingers curled together- the wing feels really tense and cramped, so she's started off gentle and coaxing. A soft snippet of song escapes her as she works, feeling the wing relax under her hands.]

...take these broken wings and learn to fly~ ♪

[ofthursday]

[He continues to calm as she works on his wing, the motion soothing, and combined with Castiel's general issues sleeping it's tempting to nod off sitting there. But then she inadvertently hits a bad spot which sends a jolt of pain through his wing and they both react automatically, opening all the way in a massive rush of feathers, tilting and angling into a mantled position.]

[minifridge]

Crap! [Rearing back a little, hands flying up in surprise.] Sorry, sorry- I must've hit something.

Massages can hurt a little sometimes. [She reaches out to rest a hand very gently on his bristling, tensed wing, petting the mantled feathers slowly.] If I'm doing it right it means I found a trouble spot.