Castiel sits in silence for a long time, doesn't notice the passage of time as the evening dusk sets into dark, deep night, and he finds in his room he can hardly see for the thickness of the shadows, at least until the moon begins to rise and cast its eerie silver light slanting through the windows. It lays in patterns on the floor, and where he sits still, back straight, Castiel stares at the shifting squares of light, unfocused and lost in his thoughts, going over and over everything in his mind until he's thinking himself in circles.
It's too overwhelming to parse right now, to figure out what it is what he needs to do, to even begin to wonder at how he got himself into this mess in the first place. It feels strange, surreal, like this could not possibly be his life, what he has become, as if he's watching a play unfold, reading a story in a book written about someone else's life, another man's misfortunes, and not his own.
He's too tired, too spent to consider what he needs to do, so he ends up only feeling sorry for himself, and getting nowhere.
When the door finally snaps open again, he's snapped from his cyclical thoughts, reminded again of his hulking captor filling the doorway, and it certainly doesn't escape his attention that he's standing in the shadows, doing everything he can to conceal his form. Castiel supposes he can't blame him. Standing, he moves slowly toward the doorway, to accept the items.
".. thank you," he says, after a halted moment, and then, squinting into the shadows, he tilts his head and ventures - "Who.. who are you?"
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Date: 14 Jun 2016 02:53 (UTC)It's too overwhelming to parse right now, to figure out what it is what he needs to do, to even begin to wonder at how he got himself into this mess in the first place. It feels strange, surreal, like this could not possibly be his life, what he has become, as if he's watching a play unfold, reading a story in a book written about someone else's life, another man's misfortunes, and not his own.
He's too tired, too spent to consider what he needs to do, so he ends up only feeling sorry for himself, and getting nowhere.
When the door finally snaps open again, he's snapped from his cyclical thoughts, reminded again of his hulking captor filling the doorway, and it certainly doesn't escape his attention that he's standing in the shadows, doing everything he can to conceal his form. Castiel supposes he can't blame him. Standing, he moves slowly toward the doorway, to accept the items.
".. thank you," he says, after a halted moment, and then, squinting into the shadows, he tilts his head and ventures - "Who.. who are you?"