Our Lady of Fandom, Thursday
Yes, Castiel was wearing a mulberry-delivering uniform an elf outfit. No, he didn't seem to be much concerned by this fact. His sermon was full of fire and brimstone, sound and fury, sturm und drang, weeping and gnashing of teeth. The retribution of the Lord could be swift and furious, angels were warriors, not fluffy bunny things, demons were wiley, man was favored but flawed. It was all very old testament, and Castiel gave it with all the stern, dark, intent, powerful rhetoric at his command while wearing an elf outfit.
The way he jingled merrily when he dropped his chin and spread his arms for emphasis probably detracted a bit. And then his hat lit up with blinking LEDs and played a blippy, beepy version of "Angels We Have Heard On High". And the Cat, which the rebel with the heart of gold had let in in a fit of good will towards his fellow creature, leaped from the choir in full attack mode and tried to eat his pointy shoes. And, well, even Castiel had to admit that it was probably time to stop preaching and get to the part that involved wine.
[ooc: waaaaait for it. . . . And away we go!]
The way he jingled merrily when he dropped his chin and spread his arms for emphasis probably detracted a bit. And then his hat lit up with blinking LEDs and played a blippy, beepy version of "Angels We Have Heard On High". And the Cat, which the rebel with the heart of gold had let in in a fit of good will towards his fellow creature, leaped from the choir in full attack mode and tried to eat his pointy shoes. And, well, even Castiel had to admit that it was probably time to stop preaching and get to the part that involved wine.
[ooc: waaaaait for it. . . . And away we go!]