Jo's not introspective. She's not the kind to sit down and ponder the existential. She's the kind to do, to act, to hunt. She was out patrolling because this city is different than what she had back home, but the monsters hiding in the darkest corners are similar enough that she understands what she has to do. It's the job, wherever it is. They can take the hunter out of the crossroads, but they can never take the hunter out of Jo.
She understands and she responds instinctively to the need to grip her rifle and protect.
She's on her way back to the Kashtta when she stumbles upon Castiel. He's sitting, and he's praying, and Jo doesn't think to disturb him. She does stop momentarily and lifts a brow in question, wondering what he asks for.
The narration apologizes that Jo will not recognize you, Castiel.
He doesn't see her at first. He feels her on the corner of his mind. At first he thinks it's a fluke, a trick of his arrival in his world, but when he looks up and sees her, the skeptical look on her face, and he's momentarily stunned.
"Hello, Jo."
Dean hadn't mentioned her being there, so he had no idea where she is in the timeline. So he's just going to stare at her at her for a little bit until he figures that out.
She was not expecting that. At the back of her mind, a distant wandering thought that cannot be lingered on, she asks herself if this is how Dean felt when she cornered him in that alleyway months ago.
Jo is startled, but she doesn't show it. She's got a good poker face, this one.
Her face betrays nothing. She doesn't take a step back. She doesn't take a step forward. Shoulders instinctively stiffen, and nothing further. "Who're you?" And more importantly, how the hell do you know my name?
Castiel knows that he surprised her, but he isn't sure of any other way that he could have gone about it. It isn't in his make up to lie, and with that reaction, he knows now that she is clearly from before they met. Taking a deep, unneeded breath, he leans back on the bench and sighs.
"My name is Castiel. I'm an angel of the Lord. And apparently I am from your future."
Julian's tired. The very bones of him feel weighted down by the fact a monster killed someone before he could get to them. Julian's old, far older than many should get the chance to be in a world like this one, yet death still manages to get to him.
The day it doesn't is the day he will worry about his humanity. Angels in Chicago are, for all intents and purposes, human in their nature.
Far too human.
He sits on the bench across from Castiel, observing him. Wanderer. It's a while before Julian thinks to speak, mostly because he wouldn't like to interrupt the man's prayers. "Do you really think He's listening?"
Julian's mother was Catholic. She'd clutch Rosary beads the way one would a lifeboat. Julian never understood.
Castiel is surprised at the voice next to him, but he doesn't show it when he looks at him. As far as his world is concerned, most people question the validity of God on a regular basis. It is part of his job to guide them in the right direction, so the question itself can be the right place to start.
In terms of this world, however, he isn't sure if he knows the answer to that question.
"If I were home, I would say yes. Here, I can't be sure." He pauses, letting out a heavy sigh as he straightens against the bench. "Unfortunately."
"Faith is never as strong as it is after it has been doubted," Julian says, bowing his head. When he lifts it back up again, he studies Castiel openly without the scrutiny that most people would.
"You're a wanderer," he adds in smooth baritones and effortless subduing. It's not a question. "I'm an angel. I can tell. How long have you been here?"
Julian himself is new to Chicago, but he is certainly not new to his role as the head Archangel. Helping the Wanderers is part of the repertoire.
Castiel's head picked up a bit at the mention of the fact that he is an angel. However, his eyes narrow in scrutiny at the first statement. "I do not doubt. I know my Father exists." As much as his Father has done for him, he can't help but acknowledge His existence. He brought him back from the death twice. That has to count for something.
He sighs though, backing down and not wanting to cause any territorial problems. He isn't looking to confront. He just wants to understand. "I only arrived recently. I'm unsure of the rules as of yet, and I don't know if the God I know is present in this universe as he is in mine."
Alfred is walking through the park, carrying two shopping bags. They're filled with sewing items, mostly, and a half-loaf of bread.
He intends on scattering some of the crumbs about for the birds, and giving the rest to the children that tend to play there. He's noticed the children like feeding the birds, as well.
There's a smile on his face that simply comes with being a man content with life and what the days has brought him, and as he moves to the bench, he is already nodding a 'hello'.
"Do you mind if I join you, Sir?" He won't mind if the answer is 'no', of course, but he's always happy to make new friends.
Castiel glances over at the man standing next to him, before shaking his head as he gestures for him to sit. He never minded company, just don't hold it against him if he's slow to talk to you, Alfred.
Alfred inclines his head and moves to sit. "Thank you."
Silence is not something uncomfortable for him. Living in Gotham, in the Manor, he was surrounded by silence. Even in the company of others, Alfred has a tendency to adopt a certain stillness.
His bags are placed on the ground by his feet and he straightens, simply looking out across the park. "I've found this to be a lovely place to think," Alfred says thoughtfully, then he smiles ruefully. "I certainly hope I'm not interrupting your thoughts."
Castiel follows his eyes out into the expanse of the park. "I used to sit in parks all the time back home. I find them ... calming."
Being able to watch the people and see how they went about their lives -- it is a fascinating experience for him. He watches them live their lives, oblivious to the war going on around them and they're so happy with that ignorance. At first, Castiel didn't understand it, but now, after everything he'd been through, he finds that there are times when he misses it.
Comments 62
She understands and she responds instinctively to the need to grip her rifle and protect.
She's on her way back to the Kashtta when she stumbles upon Castiel. He's sitting, and he's praying, and Jo doesn't think to disturb him. She does stop momentarily and lifts a brow in question, wondering what he asks for.
The narration apologizes that Jo will not recognize you, Castiel.
Reply
"Hello, Jo."
Dean hadn't mentioned her being there, so he had no idea where she is in the timeline. So he's just going to stare at her at her for a little bit until he figures that out.
Reply
Jo is startled, but she doesn't show it. She's got a good poker face, this one.
Her face betrays nothing. She doesn't take a step back. She doesn't take a step forward. Shoulders instinctively stiffen, and nothing further. "Who're you?" And more importantly, how the hell do you know my name?
Reply
"My name is Castiel. I'm an angel of the Lord. And apparently I am from your future."
Reply
The day it doesn't is the day he will worry about his humanity. Angels in Chicago are, for all intents and purposes, human in their nature.
Far too human.
He sits on the bench across from Castiel, observing him. Wanderer. It's a while before Julian thinks to speak, mostly because he wouldn't like to interrupt the man's prayers. "Do you really think He's listening?"
Julian's mother was Catholic. She'd clutch Rosary beads the way one would a lifeboat. Julian never understood.
Reply
In terms of this world, however, he isn't sure if he knows the answer to that question.
"If I were home, I would say yes. Here, I can't be sure." He pauses, letting out a heavy sigh as he straightens against the bench. "Unfortunately."
Reply
"You're a wanderer," he adds in smooth baritones and effortless subduing. It's not a question. "I'm an angel. I can tell. How long have you been here?"
Julian himself is new to Chicago, but he is certainly not new to his role as the head Archangel. Helping the Wanderers is part of the repertoire.
Reply
He sighs though, backing down and not wanting to cause any territorial problems. He isn't looking to confront. He just wants to understand. "I only arrived recently. I'm unsure of the rules as of yet, and I don't know if the God I know is present in this universe as he is in mine."
Reply
He intends on scattering some of the crumbs about for the birds, and giving the rest to the children that tend to play there. He's noticed the children like feeding the birds, as well.
There's a smile on his face that simply comes with being a man content with life and what the days has brought him, and as he moves to the bench, he is already nodding a 'hello'.
"Do you mind if I join you, Sir?" He won't mind if the answer is 'no', of course, but he's always happy to make new friends.
Reply
"Of course not. Go right ahead."
Reply
Silence is not something uncomfortable for him. Living in Gotham, in the Manor, he was surrounded by silence. Even in the company of others, Alfred has a tendency to adopt a certain stillness.
His bags are placed on the ground by his feet and he straightens, simply looking out across the park. "I've found this to be a lovely place to think," Alfred says thoughtfully, then he smiles ruefully. "I certainly hope I'm not interrupting your thoughts."
Reply
Castiel follows his eyes out into the expanse of the park. "I used to sit in parks all the time back home. I find them ... calming."
Being able to watch the people and see how they went about their lives -- it is a fascinating experience for him. He watches them live their lives, oblivious to the war going on around them and they're so happy with that ignorance. At first, Castiel didn't understand it, but now, after everything he'd been through, he finds that there are times when he misses it.
Reply
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