Chasing Time, Castiel OC, PGrosinblackrose5January 3 2011, 09:08:17 UTC
Fist land on flesh that is not there, non existence hands clamping down on non existence arms. Pulling and tugging. Pushing and shoving. Rebounding and charging again. Falling through the air, through space, through time. Landing on the dirt, invisible to the humans around them, the angels battle each other. Swords drawn chest puffed out snarls on their lips. As they burst through the walls of pyramids, sand burns at their feet and yet they feel nothing. Feel nothing but the swords in their hands, the hate in their hearts. Blood is drawn, words exchanged. Crashing tumbling through the market place, destroying stands that are filled with jewelry and pots. Humans around them scream at the invisible destructors, their tongue foreign and dead. It is understood yet ignored. Humans are not important they do not matter because in the end they will be no more. Swords crash against each other, feet clad in nothingness press against the ground as they push towards the other. They twirl around and around blocking a swipe down, knocking away a cut upwards. The sound of metal that is not found on Earth clinking against each other fills the air. The world is silent there are no humans, they have not been created yet. The world is still silent from voices. Giant reptiles rule the earth, their forms terrible and beautiful. They appreciate the Earth, love the Earth even though they do not understand their love. They love it unlike the humans. And unlike the humans they see the angels, they see the swords and see their grace and beauty mixed with hate and anger and the hand of God. Groans of agony are drown out by the roaring of cars, the crashing on metal, the scream of metal twisting and breaking as it slams into the grace of angels. There is no blood only grace being destroyed, wings charred into the freeway as the grace of the angel slips away and is lost. The victorious does not look about them, they do not care. They do not see the moans and screams for help, they do not see the blood that is falling onto the ground, staining it forever more. They do not watch as the human souls are ripped out of their bodies by the reapers. They do not watch because they are not there. They are gone chasing after another battle. Sword drawn, anger burning deeply, sadness running even deeper. They are gone, running after another angel. Behind them they do not see the scars that they leave, they do not see the wounds they leave on Earth, on time. They do not see how they destroy the Earth because their swords are drawn and they fight. They fight and claw and slide their swords home into the grace of the angel across them. They do not see because it would remind them, remind them of what they left behind. Remind him of what he used to be, how weak he used to be, how happy and miserable he used to be. He does not think about it because it must be done, there is no one else that will do it so falls upon him. It falls upon Castiel to fight.
Blood is drawn, words exchanged. Crashing tumbling through the market place, destroying stands that are filled with jewelry and pots. Humans around them scream at the invisible destructors, their tongue foreign and dead. It is understood yet ignored. Humans are not important they do not matter because in the end they will be no more.
Swords crash against each other, feet clad in nothingness press against the ground as they push towards the other. They twirl around and around blocking a swipe down, knocking away a cut upwards. The sound of metal that is not found on Earth clinking against each other fills the air. The world is silent there are no humans, they have not been created yet. The world is still silent from voices. Giant reptiles rule the earth, their forms terrible and beautiful. They appreciate the Earth, love the Earth even though they do not understand their love. They love it unlike the humans. And unlike the humans they see the angels, they see the swords and see their grace and beauty mixed with hate and anger and the hand of God.
Groans of agony are drown out by the roaring of cars, the crashing on metal, the scream of metal twisting and breaking as it slams into the grace of angels. There is no blood only grace being destroyed, wings charred into the freeway as the grace of the angel slips away and is lost. The victorious does not look about them, they do not care. They do not see the moans and screams for help, they do not see the blood that is falling onto the ground, staining it forever more. They do not watch as the human souls are ripped out of their bodies by the reapers. They do not watch because they are not there. They are gone chasing after another battle. Sword drawn, anger burning deeply, sadness running even deeper. They are gone, running after another angel. Behind them they do not see the scars that they leave, they do not see the wounds they leave on Earth, on time. They do not see how they destroy the Earth because their swords are drawn and they fight. They fight and claw and slide their swords home into the grace of the angel across them. They do not see because it would remind them, remind them of what they left behind. Remind him of what he used to be, how weak he used to be, how happy and miserable he used to be. He does not think about it because it must be done, there is no one else that will do it so falls upon him. It falls upon Castiel to fight.
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