((Application approved by the Winchesters and Bobby! *Waves paperwork stamped APPROVED*))
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"I mean it, Dean. What would you rather have? Peace--or freedom?"
It was a disheartening way to say good-bye. But Castiel, his recent 'upgrade' nothwithstanding, was tired of shouldering the responsibility that should rightfully have been borne by the
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At one time he might have taken offense, but he had learned the hard way that 'sanctimonious pieces of shit' was all too accurate of many of his kin--possibly giving some of them too much credit. (As for Cas himself, well...he was trying.)
He took a cautious step closer to the woman, studying her carefully. At first glance, he might have taken her for an angel herself; the energy that played about her, though faint, felt familiar. And the Fallen he had known (had actually been, briefly, for practical purposes) bore little remaining trace of the divine about them. On closer inspection, though, there was something distinctly off about her that he couldn't put a name to.
Yet another faction he hadn't known about, or was she something entirely unrelated?
"I haven't encountered anything quite like you before," he admitted, still inspecting her with detached curiosity. "Would it be unreasonable to ask who it is that's insulting me?"
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She crossed her arms in front of her, not stepping back. Let him gawk. Everybody point and laugh at Lee, kicked out for not following the rules. "Lee," she said, giving the name she'd been going by here for over two decades.
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Just because she might not have met him didn't mean she had to be nice to him. She frequently wasn't.
She stared at his hand coldly. "I don't shake," she told him. "I may be a bitch, but I'm not a fucking dog. So. Castiel. You ever met an angel called Malachi?"
((Some small spoilers for the series in link, nothing more than what you'd get from posting back and forth with her for a while XD ))
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((Same deal with that link :) ))
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"So you've killed other angels?"
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Then he glanced up again, raising his eyebrows slightly. "And as my friend Dean would say, they were a bunch of dicks."
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She snorted, though. "Got that right."
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He hesitated to ask, but once the question occured to him it was difficult not to voice it. The problems back home could be traced back to one root cause, as far as he was concerned. "Where you come from. Is...does God still rule in Heaven?"
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"Depends on what you mean by rule," she said, all busy bitterness again. "He's been trying to retire. Permanently. You know, heavenly suicide. Except--" She snorted another bitter laugh. "Except nobody'll let him. Big fuckin' joke's on him this time. But yeah, power's still at the top, if really pissed off about it."
She hesitated, a cold little lump settling itself down in the pit of her stomach. "So. How about where you're from?"
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It took him a moment to find his voice and answer. "He has retired. Not...like that. He handed the reins over to Michael and left." Hearing something of Lee's bitterness echoed in his own voice, he tried (with mixed success) to force it back to its usual tones of calm detachment. "According to the only angel He still talks to, what becomes of Creation is no longer His concern. Though he intervenes for individuals on occasion, when--" He hesitated, reluctant to actually say what he'd been thinking aloud. "When it amuses him."
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But remember... it's only because I love you so much... that I could punish you this severely.
"Isn't that the fucking truth," she spat. "Bunch of puppets on fucking strings, that's what we are--what all of Creation is. No matter what version, sounds like." Cut the strings, tie some of them up in new, twisty ways. Make 'em dance to different music. She needed a drink.
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"I don't know. If he's a puppetmaster, he's relegated himself to a minor role. Michael and his cronies were the ones who manipulated and used everyone in sight." He leaned his shoulder against a nearby wall, regarding Lee bleakly. "What happened to you? You're not an angel, but not mortal either. Did they cut you off?" Though restored now, he certainly knew what that felt like.
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Okay. Count to ten. She had some modicum of self-control. "I used to be a guardian," she muttered. "I broke the rules. I got kicked out." Not so much kicked as thrown, wings burning, into a crater in the goddamned desert, but the figure of speech stood. "And I'm still here."
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He smiled ruefully, not trying to turn the conversation into a contest of one-upsmanship; it was just good to be able to speak of these things to somebody else who'd been there. Even if he couldn't seem to avoid pissing her off. "But I'm still here, too."
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She cracked a slight smile. Seriously, shrimp? "Can't say I've ever exploded, either. Had people try to blow me up, but it wasn't so much divine intervention as it was regular dipshits."
Human to angel to human... she'd been offered the chance twice. Once it had been Malachi fucking with her, trying to throw her off balance. Once it had been the real deal. The boss, in the... not flesh, as it were, but present as her son had burned and died... making the offer. She'd given it up in exchange for Jude's life.
Some bargain. Her son wouldn't even look at her now. She wasn't so sure she wanted to look at him, either; it hurt too much.
"I got old for a while," she offered. Not pissed off now, just... kind of thoughtful. "Wrinkles and everything. It was interesting. Kind of sucked first thing in the morning and in cold weather, though. And hot flashes can go fuck themselves."
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