John Druitt was having what he thought was a relaxing bath all alone in the bathhouse. The atmosphere was just what he needed, calming and devoid of noise and distractions. It was a place he could just think.
Until someone was suddenly there with him, under the water as John sat on the bench, apparently drowning. Reaching out, the big man grasped the other by his lapels and hauled him out of the water and onto the tile. He had no idea how this man hand ended up here, as if out of nowhere, but if it was by teleporting John was going to be VERY curious.
"Breathe man," he said, turning him onto his side.
John watched as the man coughed up the water, clearing his lungs. While he would have been willing to perform CPR to save him, he would rather avoid if possible.
"My name is John Druitt," he replied, keeping a steadying hand on the man. "As for why you are here, that is not as simple an answer."
"I am Castiel," he pants, gathering the strength to roll over. "I am...I am an angel of the Lord. I was an angel of the Lord. What are you and where am I?"
Of course, an angel would have to appear in the Turkish bathhouse while John was naked. While he knew that many types of people came here, he had trouble believing that this man was an angel.
"I'm a human," John told him. "And you're on a magical island that nullifies any special abilities of the people sent hear. Specifically, you're in a Turkish bathhouse in a fictionalized version of Victorian London that the island has seen fit to transform itself into for the Christmas season."
Whoever this was, he didn't seem to be very thrown by the weirdness, especially since John leveled as much of it as he could all at once. Perhaps he was an angel, or someone who was very mad.
"I assure you, nothing followed you here," John said. The man's words rang something familiar in him though.
"And if they were more than human, I assure you if they did follow you through they ceased to exist in this place."
John reached out a hand to steady the other man, unsure if he was prepared to stand just yet. The last thing he needed was for the man to topple over and bash his head on the tile.
"You are in a... particular dimensional pocket called 'the island'. In this particular place, all sentience that comes through, or the only sentience that comes through and survives, become human. Whatever you were before, you are not entirely human. Any part of you, or any create that was with you either became human as well, or ceased to be anything."
"Permanently?" he demands, mind running through every sigil, spell and prayer that could bring him home. His legs are unsteady and he flails a bit in an undignified way as he pushes up. "I need to find a market, I will need supplies to return home. Can you help me?"
No matter how badly he wanted that to be true, he believed what people said about being here having no real affect on their own worlds.
"From the number of people that are here from different points in their own timelines it seems as if being here affects your world in no way. And if you would allow me a moment to clothe myself, I will do what I can to help you. Though I would not get my hopes up."
"Thank you," he says, wading to the side of the pool. "An apothecary or similar should have most of what I need and this vessel contains more than enough blood. Is there a place of worship, nearby?"
John stood and started to dry himself off and then get dressed. While Victorian clothing did take a bit longer to put on, he fortunately was more experienced with it than most here.
"Westminster Abby is within the confines of the island," John said. "Though I must caution you, that you are human and thus your body does require much of the blood in it. How much does your... method require?"
"As much as I can spare, if it does not work quickly," Castiel says, slowly clambering onto the floor. "Hallowed ground may offer some protection. The Abby will do fine although it is I believe what my friend would call overkill."
"I must caution you to consider the possibility that it might not work," John said, buttoning up his vest as he stood near the door, attempting to stay away from the water and the steam now that he was out.
"I am merely cut off from my Grace," he insists, not allowing the possibility that it could be otherwise. "It is not the same." He stands, taking a step forward on shaky legs. "Where were from, before this?"
Until someone was suddenly there with him, under the water as John sat on the bench, apparently drowning. Reaching out, the big man grasped the other by his lapels and hauled him out of the water and onto the tile. He had no idea how this man hand ended up here, as if out of nowhere, but if it was by teleporting John was going to be VERY curious.
"Breathe man," he said, turning him onto his side.
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He cannot feel his Grace or his wings, just this unwieldy vessel.
"Who are you?" he gasps, spitting out more warm water. "This is a bathhouse; why am I here?"
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"My name is John Druitt," he replied, keeping a steadying hand on the man. "As for why you are here, that is not as simple an answer."
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"I'm a human," John told him. "And you're on a magical island that nullifies any special abilities of the people sent hear. Specifically, you're in a Turkish bathhouse in a fictionalized version of Victorian London that the island has seen fit to transform itself into for the Christmas season."
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"Did you see anything follow me through? I feel alone but they are powerful and they travel through water and I can't make that mistake again."
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"I assure you, nothing followed you here," John said. The man's words rang something familiar in him though.
"And if they were more than human, I assure you if they did follow you through they ceased to exist in this place."
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"I have seen something like this before. But this is not that world. This seems wrong."
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"You are in a... particular dimensional pocket called 'the island'. In this particular place, all sentience that comes through, or the only sentience that comes through and survives, become human. Whatever you were before, you are not entirely human. Any part of you, or any create that was with you either became human as well, or ceased to be anything."
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No matter how badly he wanted that to be true, he believed what people said about being here having no real affect on their own worlds.
"From the number of people that are here from different points in their own timelines it seems as if being here affects your world in no way. And if you would allow me a moment to clothe myself, I will do what I can to help you. Though I would not get my hopes up."
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"Westminster Abby is within the confines of the island," John said. "Though I must caution you, that you are human and thus your body does require much of the blood in it. How much does your... method require?"
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"You are human after all."
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