Southern Sudan, Fall 2008

[ever_noteful]

It's a pretty simple room -- bed in one corner, dresser in another, desk in the third and door to the hall in the fourth

Comments

[thursdays_angel]

Time is fluid.

This is simply a fact of life for angels.

So Castiel finds nothing strange about visiting Dr. Meghan Marriner here in northeastern Africa after having seen Meg Ford in Milliways only days ago.

His outward appearance has not changed. Nor has his habit turning up suddenly and unexpectedly.

There's a faint flutter of wings, and a disturbance of the space behind Meg's chair.

"He's a handsome boy," Castiel says quietly, his eyes automatically going to the photographs on the desk.

[ever_noteful]

In earlier days (another lifetime, it seems, sometimes) this would have sent her pen skittering across the paper she was writing on.

The mistyping it causes now will, at least, be much easier to correct.

"Thank you," she says.

"Still sneaking up on people, huh?"

[thursdays_angel]

"In some ways I find that 'sneaking' as you call it actually disturbs people less."

He had given Dean the courtesy of a long, drawn-out approach. With plenty of warning in the form of wind and flashing lights.

Which had just served to give the hunter and his companion more time to shoot, stab, and swing crowbars.

"How are you, Meg?"

[ever_noteful]

She considers the answer for a moment before she replies.

"Well," she says, eventually.

"A little tired. A little homesick, sometimes, when there's time to be. But well.

"And trying to decide whether to hug you or slap you."

At least she's unlikely to swing a crowbar at him.