3377/Log 3377

Log 3377
Date of Scene:	15 December 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Deadwatch, Castiel

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Deadwatch has posed:
The words Gotham and Crazy are quite often used in the same sentence. But what about Gotham and Spooky? Not quite used as often, strangely, but at the same time it isn't /not/ used either. And at the moment Nolan is definately looking into some of that "Spooky" stuff.

St Jude's Church is a small church, abandoned decades ago and left moetly forgotten. The Patron Saint of Lost and Desperate Causes, teh church seems to reflect that in it's grafitti stained walls, tagged by gangs ove rthe years as they used it as a flophouse, as well as by countless other homeless. But over time even the most desperate have begun to avoid St. Jude's, which is a feat in and of itself in Gotham.

Dissapearances of homeless started trickling through the streets, and into Nolan's ear. And the runors were corroborated by, well, Nolan's other sources. So now he finds himself on a cold and rainy night standing in the detrius strewn main hall of the small catholic church, leaning heavily on his cane-crutch and casting around the beam from a cheap LED flashlight he picked, with a hot dog, up at the convenience store a block over. He chews on teh hot dog, thoughtfully, as he looks around both in the dark and.. in The Dark, his dual vision pushing beyond the real world.

".. Not a creature was stirring.. no even a louse.." he murmurs, then frowns and looks to the emty space beside him. "Yes, I know that's not the 'proper' line..." he tells the nothingness, which to him is isn't nothing but actually the greyscale image of a 1930's gangster who seems nervous.

Castiel has posed:
Fallen. It was a term first coined when Lucifer rejected the Light, leaving his Grace before the Lord in a crumpled heap, declaring himself equal to the Host of Heaven and turning his back upon his brethren.

They'd not wept for him.

Nor had they wept for Castiel, though some few had wondered how he could chose to throw his lot in with those that lay between Heaven and Hell, sufficing as a reflection of the Lord in all its baser manifestations, but mostly existing as pawns in all that Creation had come about to paradoxically both with to set into motion and prevent. It was one of the Greater Mysteries. A thing unspoken. Spoken of. Proclaimed. Soothsaid. Denied. And said to be a lie.

It was the single most driving force of the Universe. It was also the reason Castiel had chosen to Fall, though some portion of his Grace remained. He'd not been stripped of the entire matter. And that, too, some might be wise enough to question might have a place in things - but none had spoken of it openly to him.

Still, the angel found little need to stop in places of worship, finding himself as likely to fall into the cadences of teh Choir as he walked the dirty streets of New York City as within the Sacristy lit hallows of any church, or the tiered echoing of temple..

Tonight, though, was different. The angel finding himself drawn to St. Jude's. The Patron Saint of Desperate and Hopeless Causes, and if any cause were desperate, it were the one Castiel had set himself upon.

And while any other night, the angel might find himself alone with the Sacristy light, tonight is not the case. There is another sheltering from the cold December winds, huddled in a pew, speaking to the silences beside him. Causing the angel-turned-man to pause and consider, his features drawn in silent thought. Finally, "You should not be here." The soft gravel of his voice filling the space between himself and the other man.

It seemed the thing to say.

Deadwatch has posed:
Now Nolan grew up on the street.. quite literally.. and despite being drug addled for most of his earlier life he likes to think he was pretty observent.. observant enough to survive at any rate. It also helped that he had The Gift, or gifts really, that gave him insight beyond the norm. And having a coterie of lost souls tended to help a bit too..

But he literally did NOT see the guy sitting in one of the few remaining pews.. ANd that is impressive. Impressive /and/ scary. Of course Nolan's sight is /not/ perfect (as much as he would claim otehrwise) and sometimes, SOMETIMES churches throw him off but...

Nolan blinks at the back of the man with his strangely mismatched eyes.. at least he thinks it's a man. It is a living body of a human but it's aura is too muted, almost subsumed by The Dark.. But he /feels/ there is more to the guy then that and he doesn't know WHY...

"Lots of places I shouldn't be..." he replies, motioning to the unseen ghost to not bother him, and limps a few steps closer.. "..but it hasn't stopped me before. Besides, I could be saying the same thing about you..."

Castiel has posed:
One might argue The Dark. It is true that Castiel chose his host by saving him from a worse plight than allowing the angel to inhabit. He could truthfully say he had asked. That permission had been given. That the arrangement did not harm the body.. And that the soul of the man was in peaceful slumber, merely awaiting a time when perhaps service and circumstances would allow a better Fate than that which was in store for him otherwise.

"I chose to be here," Castiel says after a considered silence, the reply sufficient to cover most meanings of 'chose'. He could be merely human hunkering out of the cold, lighting a candle for Indulgences.. Or he could be the angel who had willingly taken on this lot, this nearly mortal coil that he shuffled under, trying to understand the complexities of a species that was barely aware of itself before its time upon this earth was through. He had watched them since their creation and thought he'd understood so much better than he'd found once he'd become one of them.

"You are.." And here the angel cants his head ever so slightly, a frown marring his brow, drawing his features into a tight line of consideration. "You are different. Explain this."

Deadwatch has posed:
of course, The Dark in Nolan's case is his word for that veil, that filter, that other worled overlayed on our own from which souls and spirits draw on to exist close enough to the living.. a sort of purgatory if your will. It is like looking looking through rippling water with dark currents. Within The Dark the living shine like bright if blurry beacons while ghosts are less so.. And this man seems to be both more and less of each than anyone else. So Nolan slowly limps closer, the sturrup of his legbrace scraping along the floorboards in counterpoint to his forearm crutch.

"Well if you chose to be here then it would be fair to say that so do I..." he tells him, hoping that getting closer will give his vision some sense of clarity. He hasn't noticed yet that the one ghost that was following him has stepped back, somewhat fearful.

When the dishevelled man turns his head to look at him, NOlan almost stumbled to a stop.. You know the saying about eyes being windows of the soul and all that.. Well..

"Me? /I'm/ different?!?" he asks. "What the /fuck/ are /you/?" He sees spirit in those eyes.. seperate from soul. He doesn't know of this arrangement made with the host, only that some sort of spirit is inhabiting a mortal's body.. not a ghost, but a /spirit/. Something inhuman. "You would posess a mortal and then sit in a /church/?!? Don't deny it. I don't know what kind of entity you are, but I don't take kindly to posession."

Castiel has posed:
The man before him is appraised with slow, careful consideration, the angel seemingly ignoring the accusations thrown at him by the man.

"The fuck am I?"

If Nolan had asked even weeks ago, Castiel's answer might have been different, but he'd heard things of that nature, or close enough, often enough, in the past weeks that he finally understands what is being asked. "I am Castiel. And you are reborn. Unusual. Your soul remains with you though it should have departed."

In Castiel's experience, there were usually specific reasons attached to that, most having to do with being tied to Prophecy and Fate. To being numbered in the Book of Life as a spark that matters. And while many would stoop to argue that all sparks of life mattered, Castiel knew the reality differently . They mattered only in that they were souls that belonged to the Lord, not in how they were part of The Plan. Only some few recieved those marks upon themselves.

That Nolan could see him as different.. That was another matter altogether.

"You see me as I am? And yet, you are not one of the Choir. I would know that." Castiel seems to brush the matter aside, all without moving, the matter more an implication of gesture than a gesture. "I do not possess the host. At least not as you would understand it. There is no ill being done."

Deadwatch has posed:
Nolan Voight is not a practicing Catholic dspite spending SOME time in a catholic orphanage. He's not really christian, period, actually. But he cannot deny that God, or Gods, exist since he /knows/ there is an afterlife beyond The Dark. He knows that there are entities that serve the greater powers, some directy and some indirectly. If someone were to ask him to define his OWN beliefs, though. he would have to say he was between non-denominational agnostic and a lapsed deist.

But when the stranger names himself Nolan inhales sharply. Because while he may not PRACTICE any belief, he KNOWS their particulars.. "Castiel... as in Castiel, the Shield of God?" he asks, unbelieving.. but just the utterance of that name is enough to allow him to finally /see/.. because names have power, especially when given... And no matter how fallen or broken Castiel is, he is, or was, one of The Host... The brightness, now revealed, is not truly blinding like an angel should be but it is close enough and Nolan takes a step back.. almost tripping because of his bad leg.

His bad hand clenches around the shaft of the flashlight, the beam becoming shaky, as he can taste.. something.. in the air.. something almost familiar.."Holy shit.. You /are/ an angel.." he whispers, then finds his strength once more. "Yes.. yes I can see what you are.. What the /hell/, man!?! What the hell are you doing hanging out here?!? And I am /not/ reborn. I wasn't that fucking lucky." he growls. "And it doesn't matter what I am, what matters is how can I trust you aren't hurting 'the horse' you're riding. I've heard that people have been dissapearing here..."

Castiel has posed:
Names have power, but few know how to weild that.

Even amongst the scattering of demons that Castiel has encountered, few have had the ability, or perhaps merely lacked the inclination, to try to use that knowledge against him.

Amongst the humans, there was only the knowledge that to call upon him by name would bring his attention to them and their plight. And even then only some few that he had left his mark upon.

That this one knew more and better was something of an anomally. Unexpected to say the least.

"I do not understand," the angel mutters in his lower gravel. "Where else should I hang out? It is a place of the Lord." Though, in truth, it is unlikely that is what Nolan means at all. It does not occur to Castiel to ponder that the man asks why he has thrown his lot in with mankind. He does gentle some, though, at the last, the blue of the angel's eyes softening, and carrying a depth of sorrow, "I did not harm the host. I merely offered an alternative to the finality of what he would otherwise have done. It was a choice."

Deadwatch has posed:
Oh yeah. He knows quite a lot about, you know, things... The whole name thing, definately, since thats like the first thing anyone with Homo Magi blood is taught (or in Nolans case, the fifteenth, considering he was the thaumaturgical equivailant to being homeschooled.. with outdated books.) But compared to more formally trained mystics and psychics he is more of a jack of a lot (not all) trades master of none.

Anyways, Nolan frowns for a moment, that question catching him off guard. He seems to think for a moment, then stops shining the light in Castiel's face, pointing it more downward.. enugh to illuminate the area if more dimly.

"Okay.. You got me there. Though to be fair, I don't think God has been in /this/ house for a while. I think he's prefers his place in The Hamptons." he says offhandedly. "And if youve come to an arangement with your ride, well, I can't say anything. Not like I don't deal with that the other way around.." he tells the angel... He catches the sadness in Castiel's eyes. "You know.. sometimes making a choice is no choice at all, right? Thats sort of the trap.."

Castiel has posed:
There is no nod from the angel, though there is about him that odd vagueness of gesture again. The implication of a nod. As though he'd moved too quickly for the eye to see it. Or that merely the thought of the thing was enough to carry the memory of the movement. However it is, he speaks slowly, and thoughtfully, "It was a better choice than the one he had already made. It is, perhaps, that he can attone for the other."

"I do not regret the need."

And as easily as the sorrow had come, it is lessened, already fading away. The angel regarding the twist of a man before him. "Then you come here for the solace of shelter. Not the Lord." It isn't a question, merely observation. "And you would know me for more than most. How?"

Deadwatch has posed:
Nolan Voight doesn't know why he isn't freakig out more (than he is, deep down inside) but.. he shrugs and limps to the same pew that Castiel sits upon. He lowers himself, wincing in pain as his braced leg bends, then pants a little as he recovers, looking foreward at the grafittied statue of jesus behind the defaced pulpit.

"Well.. I don't see how he can attone if you're the one doing the heavey lifting but and he's just floating around in there like a spare tire in the trunk but.. what do I know, right?" he asks, then leans back a bit.

"And I didn't come here for need of shelter. I mean, I got a nice warm place a few blocks away. And I definatey don't need solace from /him/.." he says, a bit distastefully. Yes, he believes in (a) God, but apparently he's not very happy with him. "I came here to because I heard that others who /were/ looking for shelter were dissapearing. This neighbourhood is my home. I wanted to be sure that the rumors were either false or.. well.. something I could deal with." he says, the looks at Castiel..

"But considering there is an honest to god, pun intended, angel sitting here I'm sure you would have noticed something.." he admits. Then looks over at angel.

"Know you more than most? I guess thats one way of putting it." he says. " I see the things that humans aren't meant to see with living eyes. Things which your God, and others, have forgotten or swept under the rug. The souls of those who haven't crossed fully over. The spirits and entities that belief and dreams coalese into. I see The Dark."

Castiel has posed:
Castiel calmly watches Nolan's progress into the pew, noting the winde of pain, his own features taking on a cast of concern, but one that is quickly veiled into something more of understanding. It gives the angel a moment's pause before he turns his attention back to the front of the Church.

"I had need of a vessel. He allowed. It may be that one small sacrifice buys him eternity." Or, if Castiel succeeds at his mission, perhaps all it will buy the body that he rides, and the soul that once inhabitied it, time to reconsider a decision made in the depths of darkness.

His glance flicks over to the man beside him, the piercing blue of his gaze utterly calm. "You speak of the deaths that litter these streets." He, himself, had not dwelt upon such things in his time here. As a human, or as an angel. It seemed a matter for others.

"My God?" Castiel dwells with the thought, ruminating upon it in his slow, careful manner. "There is only one God. Many gods. But only one Who Is. I have been since before time. Before your lores and legends spawned those things others worship." He does not seem quite bothered by this, at least not as much as one might think he should be, all things considered. "Ah. The second sight, then. It is yours. I can ease your pain, but you are.."

The angel sits in silence again, his words mulled and tasted before he gives them to the man beside him. "The injuries you bear. Without them, you would not be. You are outside the realm of those I might fully help. But there is some solace I might give. A momentary reprieve while we speak."

Deadwatch has posed:
Nolan Voight stares not at the angel posing asd a man, but at the defaced statue of the Son of God. It is not a stare that lends t any single emotion, but many, ranging the entire spectrum.

"Like I said, so long as he allowed. There are a lot of.. entities.. that just take with asking. As much as I can tell, and I can tell quite a bit, you're telling the truth and this dude is letting you have free room and board.. so I won't quibble there." he says evenly, then turns his head to cast those mismatched eyes on Castiel; One a warm amber with golden flecks and the other a cold cerulean blue flecked with silver.

"Not just these streets. And not just current deaths. Everywhere I look I see the echoes of the dead. The ones who haven't made it across to their afterlives yet because of whatever reasons... I've seen them as long as I have lived. You would think that knowing that the soul goes on after teh body dies would be liberating.. it isn't.." he says dryly.

He then raises a brow. "Oh, I'm sure you think that your god is the supreme power. You almost have to say it, don't you. Hell, you /may/ even be right. But I'm not so sure. God, and thats with the capitol G, may just be an aspect of something bigger than we can comprehende. A facet. Or maybe not." he looks back at the statue of christ. "Besides, he may be One Who Is but what about One Who Will Be? Or One Who Was?"

He then looks down at his leg and his hand, frowning at the mention of reprieve. "I wouldn't try it. Trust me on this. It doesn't work. There is no solace." he says, and looks haunted a moment.. Memories of how he destroyed much of his life with addiction, using the drugs to try and escape the pain both physical and mental.. and spirtual. Addiction he more or less sates with legal means.. But yes, sometimes he needs less still to help the more.

Castiel has posed:
Castiel does not push the matter, merely observes with a quiet gravel of voice, "You might be surprised at what can be done. But I will not take what you hold to yourself so tightly." He understands burdens. They are a thing that weighs him as well. There are things one takes willingly to do what one must, or what one believes must be done. The man beside him might not quite fall within that, but the semantics of the thing matter little past Nolan has accepted that the burden is his, and Castiel will not move to take it away.

"You sound like the Dawn Star as he once was. Standing before the Lord declaring that there must be more. Asking why he should kneel before and bow his head. I do not think that many listened to his words and understood them for what they were. It was hubris, but beyond that, there was always the question of who does I Am now his head to."

As he speaks, much of the awkward that Castiel normally wears falls away, leaving him much more the nature of the angel, and certainly less of the man. The unequal marriage of the two no longer a fight between them where the angel seeks to be nothing more than an understanding of those he has cast his lot in with, and fails to fully be one of them. Instead, in this place, this seemingly holy place, Castiel finds his centre and holds.

"He cast his Grace before the Lord and turned his back upon the Choir. He was the brightest of us, and the darkest, still, because of it." There is a note of regret in the angel's voice. "His voice is still not forgotten."

Deadwatch has posed:
Nolan Voight blinks at the angel as he is compared to Lucifer and then sorts, doing his best to contain a laugh. "Sometimes I swear it sounds like you guys get punished for the dumbest things... Have you ever thought that maybe The Dawn Star's sin wasn't Hubris. Maybe his sin was being too human. Maybe his sin was /evolving/.. In /Growing Up/" he says and then shakes his head as the angel describes what happened to the greatest among angels.

"His voice may not be forgotten but his /sacrifice/ apparently was. I hate to tell you this, man, but it sounds like he pulled his own Jesus Christ. He made what had to be the ultimate sacrifice among your kind to try and effect a change. But instead of only getting three days in hell like J.C. up there, he had to suffer an /actual/ eternity for it."

He then leans back. "Maybe thats blasphemous. I dunno. Don;t right care either. Faith is only worth it if you can question it. Questioning your faith makes you stronger, if you have any."

Castiel has posed:
Castiel gives Nolan a long look, the angel a hunch within his trench coat as he leans forward ever so slightly, looking for all the world like he might slip from the pew to kneel upon the kneeler were it pulled down. Instead, the angel tucks an arm over the back of the pew before him and draws his gaze away from Nolan, to regard the rest of the Church now.

"There is a time I would have argued against your points. I do not know if the words would hold the same weight now. I did not toss my Grace before the Lord, but I chose to Fall. There is enough of Grace within me that I do not know what that means. I no longer hear the Choir, but I feel them. Much as I ever did."

His shoulders draw a fractional, tugging the fabric of his trench coat along the line of his back before it settles loosely about him again. As much to say as he no longer has the answers he once thought he had. And, in truth, since taking his Fall, he has consorted with and made deals with demons. The angel no longer certain what path it is his feet are meant to tread. Knowing only that the reason he chose for humanity has not changed, and until it does, his fate is much as any who chose: sealed by his own will.

Deadwatch has posed:
Nolan Voight shrugs a bit. "So you chose to fall.. others didn't but fell anyways.. But that had to be because of whatever choices they made and their repurcussions... Right? In either case it's because you either agree with Lucifer, or disagree with god. I know, it's more complicated then that probably, but thats the gist, right?"

Castiel has posed:
Castiel thinks before answering, but his answer comes more quicklyy than many he has given. "I do not know the answer. The Lord has not spoken audibly in some time. I believe if I had stepped so far from his voice as to dey him, I would not have my Grace."

There is another pause as he frowns over a matter, the gesture more marked by a furrowing of his brows together than anything else.

"There are those within the Choir would would bring about the end. You would be the pawns that fall between the kingdoms. I did not accept that. My lot is with humanity now."

Deadwatch has posed:
Nolan Voight shifts a bit, sitting straighter now. "or, perhaps, your Grace or whetever the hell it is, is acually intinsicly part of you and he can't take it all away... but thats neither hear nor there. What I am saying is ther seems to be two major sides in this conflct, whatever the reasoning each indivudual angel has. They chose sides. /You/ chose a side. You call yourself fallen, be it by your own hand or the hand of Big G. But I notice you, or the hly books, haven't mentions one party." he says.

"What happened to the angels who /didn't/ chose /either/ side?"

Castiel has posed:
Castiel's brow remains furrowed. "I do not follow. There are those with the Choir, and those who chose long ago for Lucifer. Of the rest, they are silent and remain. Of them, only I stepped between the two."

Again there is that curious gesture that almmost suffices for a shrug, ending only in the merest whisper of fabric along his shoulders. "It may be that in the End of Days they will cast down their Grace and march upon the Battlefield under a different standard, but there are not those of the Lord who do not chose." He allows, then, "At least not as you understand it. There are some few who are angelic but not of the Lord. They are not His, though. It is not a matter of Grace that binds them."

Deadwatch has posed:
Nolan Voight hmmms lowly. "Are you sure that all that are silent just 'remain?'" he asks. "I mean, YOu're an angel and all but do you /know/ the hearts of all your fellow ANgels, fallen or not? Because apparently even God doesn't, or lse there would have never been this upheval to begin with." he points out.

"Maybe I am just being Devils Advocate here, pun intended. Who knows. I /do/ know I find it interesting that I am sitting here with somone who instruction manual you can find in any by-the-hour hotel nightstand says should be killed on sight." he tells him.

"There shall not be found among you anyone who makes his son or his daughter pass through the fire, one who uses divination, one who practices witchcraft, or one who interprets omens, or a sorcerer, or one who casts a spell, or a medium, or a spiritist, or one who calls up the dead..." he intones, the adds for good measure., Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."

Castiel has posed:
Castiel listens, unperturbed, as Nolan cites passage and verse at him. "You speak the words of men. Not of the Lord. It was never meant to be what you made of it."

At this he makes a shrug that melds man and angel, the body remembering. A tightness, followed by a relaxing.

"Lucifer's heart was known." His words a negligence as he says them, falling between the two and carrying no weight. "Would you be happier if I cast you from this mortal life? I did not think that the purpose of this. And were I to not care about exceptions, I would not ride this vessel as you say. I would still be the Warrior I was."

For a moment his intonations seem to carry a little further. Deeper. Suggesting of more. Echoing with something of power behind them. ...and then thhe words and their depth merely slip away.

"Perhaps you are right. Perhaps it is only that I am learning Faith. I have not turned from the Lord. Merely the Hands that do bidding claiming it His."

Deadwatch has posed:
Nolan Voight rolls his eyes. "Geeze, you need to develop a sense of Irony, if not humor." he says. "No, I don't want to be 'cast from this mortal life', if only because I know I won't be getting any more rest than I do now if I did. And Yes, those are words by men... inspired by your God whom, not once, said anything otherwise to counter it. He might as well made up one of those addendums they add to political vidoes. The "I endorse this message' thing." he says with a a bit of disgust.

Then he sighs and blows out a breath. "Anyways I'm just being pissy. You're like a kid who has just taken their first steps into adulthood. You've found your faith, like some teenager whose found their first boner. Excited yet not sur what it means or what to do with it. Oh sure, you have an idea but thats a whole lot different then actually /knowing/. ANd you hope that age will give you the experience to figure it out. Well. I got news for you, my feathered friend.. experience does not impart wisdom. Sadly."

Castiel has posed:
Castiel may not appreciate irony or humour as Nolan understand it, but still there is amusement within him as he listens. "And you do not see that your vision is not all there is to see. I think I will leave you with but one thing. My mark. Should you care to use it." It's a thing he's done before. No doubt will do again. Nolan tuccked under the wing of Castiel's somewhat haphazard wing of protection. There may even be irony in that. And with that, and no word or warning, Castiel merely is not anymore. Leaving, as he said, Nolan with but that one thing: His mark.