The angels were all singing out of tune...(rp for castingout)
She vaguely remembers what it was like to be burned alive. She remembers the events before with much more clarity: the shock of the moment, when Bradly had entered her apartment, the pain of the invisible knife slicing wide across her stomach, the feel of the slick slide of blood down her skin before she had to comprehend the fact she was pinned by unseen hands to her ceiling. She remembers seeing Sam, seeing him coming in and wishing she could scream, could do anything to warn him, but she was paralyzed, frozen, some parody of a sculpture that was going to ruin his entire life.
And then she'd burned.
Jess had never really bought into the idea of an afterlife. Her family had been christian, but they had been the sort of Easter-Christmas christian who didn't practice and sort of acknowledged God in passing. So when she woke up after burning alive, surprise could have easily been described as her first emotion. And when they'd explained, in a way that was beyond any words and any sort of language she knew, that because of the way she'd died, because of the way she'd been pulled into something much larger than she was she was given an option that not every human got.
There was a choice to be made between a life of heaven as humans knew it, a running loop of the greatest moments of her shortened life, where she wouldn't experience pain or hurt ever again, or there was the second option. Being an angel. Things would change, they said, angels didn't have emotions like humans did, didn't love, didn't interact with the world in the way she might think, but it would give her a chance to find vengeance for her death, to be a part of the growing army that would fight for the literal apocalypse against Lucifer himself. And Jess had never been one to back away from a challenge.
So now, here she was, working her way into a way of being, a new existence, a new arrangement of a familiar body, and making her way into a quiet garrison in search of the angel that would be her mentor. They'd dulled her memories of being a human, had left her with the want for retribution against the demon who had done this to her, but stripped her of her memories of her mortal life, of the people she'd known, the places she'd loved. Heaven, it seemed, was to be her home now.
She spotted the angel, who she'd overheard Michael and Uriel discuss as 'the youngest recruit', as she moved further into the dim, hunched over a book, long fingers sliding down the pages that were written in the rolling lines of gnocian that she now could understand and read. It took her a moment of gathering her courage before she spoke, her voice soft and bell-like across the empty space.
"Castiel?"
And then she'd burned.
Jess had never really bought into the idea of an afterlife. Her family had been christian, but they had been the sort of Easter-Christmas christian who didn't practice and sort of acknowledged God in passing. So when she woke up after burning alive, surprise could have easily been described as her first emotion. And when they'd explained, in a way that was beyond any words and any sort of language she knew, that because of the way she'd died, because of the way she'd been pulled into something much larger than she was she was given an option that not every human got.
There was a choice to be made between a life of heaven as humans knew it, a running loop of the greatest moments of her shortened life, where she wouldn't experience pain or hurt ever again, or there was the second option. Being an angel. Things would change, they said, angels didn't have emotions like humans did, didn't love, didn't interact with the world in the way she might think, but it would give her a chance to find vengeance for her death, to be a part of the growing army that would fight for the literal apocalypse against Lucifer himself. And Jess had never been one to back away from a challenge.
So now, here she was, working her way into a way of being, a new existence, a new arrangement of a familiar body, and making her way into a quiet garrison in search of the angel that would be her mentor. They'd dulled her memories of being a human, had left her with the want for retribution against the demon who had done this to her, but stripped her of her memories of her mortal life, of the people she'd known, the places she'd loved. Heaven, it seemed, was to be her home now.
She spotted the angel, who she'd overheard Michael and Uriel discuss as 'the youngest recruit', as she moved further into the dim, hunched over a book, long fingers sliding down the pages that were written in the rolling lines of gnocian that she now could understand and read. It took her a moment of gathering her courage before she spoke, her voice soft and bell-like across the empty space.
"Castiel?"