8427/Hail Britannia

Hail Britannia
Date of Scene:	21 July 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Castiel finds Hayal a beach where they can enjoy the waves in private without fear of prying eyes. Instead, they bare their souls about the trials and tribulations of their relationship with humanity.
Cast of Characters:	Castiel, Exile

---

Castiel has posed:
The talk with Agent May about places where people not only were allowed to play in the water, but were encouraged to do so had left Castiel thinking. And searching..

As it happened, he'd had business in Starling. There were whispers of a certain tome surfacing in the area, but that lead had either proven false, or the thing was now protected by wards that he couldn't pierce. He would have to rely on that failed warlock and his little witch apprentice to seek further, but more important than that, Castiel had discovered something: A beach.

At first he was confused at what he was looking at, but the talk with Agent May had filtered through. Those people were not only basking in the sun, but frolicking in the waters as well, wearing a variety of outfits, and some, even, just in their clothing.

Everyone had been laughing.

But it was terribly busy, which wouldn't do. Hayal's wings were a curiousity, and they'd already had troubles with that. Instead...

It's VERY late in New York. Hours most civil people don't keep. Not that Castiel keeps human hours, though he does give a nod to pretending to to follow them. He has a room. He goes to it in the evening as often as not. But tonight he seeks out his fellow angel, and asks gruffly, "Do you trust me?" before taking Hayal's hand and teleporting him here.

Britannia beach. Pristine waters. Soft white sands. Rocks smoothed by eons of waves. A full moon. And in this shaltered cove of a space Castiel has picked, naught but the two of them to be seen in either direction.

"I have found us a bathing place."

Exile has posed:
He's docile and trusting with Castiel, as befits a soldier of the Host with one of the named angels. And with that explanation....he's brought along a couple new pairs of board shorts. One dark gray, one dark blue....and he has an eye for what fits. "Clothes for bathing, so humans won't be offended," he explains, before donning them. Cas he won't force to take them, let alone wear them, but....they do look comfortable.

And now they're there, and he's padding delightedly along the edge where the water hisses up into fans of white foam on the sand, wings held out to test the wind. He looks like a giant seagull.

Castiel has posed:
The full moon affords enough light that they're not in total darkness. There are also lights nearby - not so near as to illuminate the place, but just visible enough to remind that they are not *entirely* alone. Just.. most people don't come out at this hour. At least not unless they're looking for romance, and the spot Castiel has chosen is just slightly less accessible than other parts of this beach..

"I do not understand why I need to put these on," Castiel complains, watching Hayal, freed of human daily normal clothes, and now dressed in the 'bathing shorts' advancing in those slow forays into the water, with the elated retreats when the cold water hits as he acclimatizes himself.. and something within Castiel shifts. He is suddenly.. jealous isn't the word. Nor is envious. Sad? Empty? Seeking?
5rLonging. That's the word. He wants what Hayal has - not in the way he's been envious of all those things the truly Fallen angel still has, but of his innocent freedom. Castiel wants that. To feel like this world he has chosen to inhabit is his home.

While he things Hayal is not looking, Castiel begins to slowly disrobe, folding each bit of clothing he removes neatly and placing it on a precise little pile beside Hayals crumple of clothes.

Exile has posed:
"Because humans get upset when they think the clothing you're wearing is inappropriate for the activity you're doing," he explains, crouching down to stick fingers in the wet sand. Enjoying the texture, the malleability. It's cold....but it doesn't bother him. He doesn't have the tropism for that particular small temperature range humans do. "These are the clothing male humans wear at this beach. So....if they find us here, they're less likely to be distressed."

His hair blows loose on the night breeze....and the feathers of the wings ruffle with the gusts. Happy to crouch at the very edge of the water, and contemplate building sandcastles. "You want them to be rational, for their thoughts to be clear all the way down, like a well of clear water. But they aren't. They don't work like that. They have mortal animal bodies, and those have opinions and desires and impulses of their own. I don't know why they were created with that apparent mismatch, but they were...."

Castiel has posed:
"There are no humans around," Castiel points out, folding his tie several times without success, settling for merely putting it in half, and then removing and folding his shirt (with much greater success). His back is turned to the water while he sets his shirt down, moving his tie to settle on top of the pale white of his shirt. "I will put on the bathing shorts, but only because you have asked me to." He makes it sound like Hayal has insisted upon this, which gives him permission to loosen up enough to do this, even if Hayal has done no such thing.

"Humans do not make sense. They are both the most frivolous and intense creatures I have ever known. You would think that for something whose life is so fleeting that they would indulge in all the pleasures only. Instead, they turn their pursuits to.."

He half turns, pants being lowered and stepped out of, shoes already set beside shirt, tie, and trench coat. "I would think if they find us here they will be distressed by your wings, not if you are wearing the bathing shorts." He sounds nearly amused as he says it. "But you are correct. They make very little sense. I had hoped you might have more insight having lived with them for so long. For example, the Agent May. She did consent to go upon a date with me, only to tell me she did not wish to have a relationship. Would it not have made more sense to have told me before then? I do not think it was the kiss. We did not kiss."

Exile has posed:
"No, they don't make sense," Hayal agrees, pleasantly. "That is what I have found, after all these years here. I gave up expecting them to long ago. I try to find patterns, and there are some, but....they're more like currents than means of reliable prediction," he explains. "I can easily hide my wings. I can't easily make clothing appear when I am not wearing it.....and that would bother them. There aren't any present now, but we are not very far from some of their dwellings. Come, Castiel, look at the way the moon shines on the water."

He himself steps out a little further, wading in until he's waist deep, looking up at the waning disc of the moon. "I don't know. I don't know her well enough. Why did you go on a date? That's part of current mating rituals - does the body you're wearing desire such things?"

Castiel has posed:
"How can you just give up trying to understand?" The very thought seems to both frustrate and confuse the angel. "How do you know how to be with them when they are constantly changing. When they do not even follow their own rules." He doesn't quite say it, but the unspoken thought hangs there: when the Choir makes so much sense.

Then again, Catiel had broken the bonds of the Choir when he'd saved the younger Winchester. He'd stepped outside the bounds of expected and become a free agent. He was beginning to grasp the outer edges of free will, but only the very outermost edges of the concept. Only less with regards to himself than of humans.

"Do I take off the underwear?" He makes an amusing picture there, standing in underwear and socks, looking awkward and confused, and entirely too human. "And I do not know why she did. We went on a mission where we were pretending to be dating. Only it was not a date. After I said I would take her to the movies next time and she said it was a date. But she does not want to date anyone. I am not certain if we are friends or not friends. I do not think she likes me."

There. He'd said it.

"The body.. I do not know. The body did not make the signals that it desired her. I find her strength and mind appealling, but no. I did not feel a wish to kiss her. It was only because that is what you do on a date. I.. do not think you would approve of what I have found desirable."

Castiel wasn't sure if /he/ approved of who he'd found desirable. Though to be fair in at least one of those cases he hadn't realized what that was he was feeling.

Exile has posed:
"YEs. The underwear. Wear nothing but the shorts. The fabric of the shorts is designed for wear in water. It'll feel nice," he assures Cas, bobbing a little with the waves that roll in. Hayal's expression is gentle, affectionate. "I have not given up on understanding them. They have patterns and currents. The way the birds fly in a flock, one kind in itself. But I have given up on expecting them to be rational, and for them to understand themselves." The wings, spread, let him keep balance.

"I don't know if she likes you. But she does not drive you away from her residence. She explains things to you. If she is not wanting to have a mate.....then no, she probably won't date." As if he were describing the courting patterns of flamingos.

The idea of him approving makes him tilt his head. "But....you do? I mean, you do want things....people? Why would I not approve? That's a human body, that's what they do. They want."

Castiel has posed:
Castiel drops the underwear, and only because Hayal tells him that it is only the bathing shorts he should wear, he removes the socks as well. Everything nearly folded and then the shorts put on and the other angel steps towards the water.

"I do not know if she does not want a mate. She said that she did not have time for one. That is not precisely the same thing. But I do not think she likes me that way." He sounds less bothered by that than perplexed, like desiring someone were a formula you could crack. He'd done all the right things, hadn't he? So why not him?

"I think you would not agree as they have not been human," Castiel admits, stepping into the water to ankle depth. "I have not wanted a human. Have you?"

Exile has posed:
Now, he turns to face the oncoming waves, little as they are. Folds the wings back and dives under, coming up wet and streaming and blowing. "Hm. That is....no, not precisely the same. But the rituals of bonding take time and effort, and she may not have time and energy to spare for it," he says, flicking sea water from his feathers.

The question of want...."Sometimes," he says. "I like loving them, and having them love me. It can be so pure. It takes so little physically to give them pleasure, to let them know they are loved. So many of them want it, but fear it. It is very hedged about with ritual and rules."

He stretches, luxuriantly. "If not a human, then what? Other angels? Demons?"

Castiel has posed:
Castiel stands there, ankle deep in the cool water, and nods. "There is sense in that. She seems to put her energy into her job and the people she works with. Perhaps she is dating them. Can you date a job?" It's clear he's trying to decipher the nuances of this business. Clearer still he doesn't mean it in a romantic way.

Castiel gives Hayal a searching look. "You have had the intercourse with a human? Should I ask how it was?" The other he is becoming more familiar with, the feelings towards these fragile beings that transcend the ability of the human spirit to hold the depths and expanses of it. the lingering remains of His love, manifest for them. "I do not understand the rituals."

Exile has posed:
"No, because dating is a ritual usually with mating as the end purpose. But she maybe puts the energy that a mate would take into her work. Some do. Not every human takes a mate." Hayal turns again, comes wading back a little to watch Castiel.

"I have. Though it isn't merely one act, but a whole constellation of them. Some of them result in procreation, but most don't. Nearly all give pleasure if done right. It makes them feel as if they could sing as we once did. Like they hear a note of the harmony, or so one once told me."

Castiel has posed:
"And some," Castiel points out, "Mate without wishing to form a long term union. Maybe it evens out between them all.."

He listens as Hayal speaks of being with another, and even after that he is silent before nodding. "I think if I am to remain here, I would wish that. Maybe that is the part that draws me to them. Those single notes. The Choir is the song, but they.."

He presses his lips together and runs a hand through his hair. The subject straying to places he is still struggling to understand, let alone put words tol.

"Was it good?"

Exile has posed:
"Yes. Not all mate for life. They have a very wide variation of patterns in joining," he agrees. Apparently the first dip was enough for a little, for he comes slogging out of the water to sit on the sand beyond reach of the tide, letting the breeze dry his plumage.

"Yes. You have a more human body than I do. I imagine it is something you'll want to try," Hayal agrees. "They are like single notes, not singers, generally. But together, they can be very beautiful."

His smile is tender. "Yes. Utimately, a living thing wants eternity. And when it can't have that, reproduction. The individual goes, but the pattern and the line go on."

Castiel has posed:
There's a nod of certain understanding from Castiel, who remains in the water, neither going deeper, nor leaving when Hayal returns to the sand to sit.

"The vessel has a child. A daughter. He tries not to think of her. It would change what he wants to do." There's a moment of silence again. "Sometimes I feel alone. Too apart. I can try to be one of them, but I am not. I do not have your carefree assurance that all will be well. Or to fit in. I feel sometimes that I am watching one of the movies I have seen."

Another, longer, pause.

"I am lonely."

Exile has posed:
"How would it change what he wants to do?" Hayal asks, puzzled. He's started to draw lines in the sand with a fingertip, then smoothe them over with a palm.

But he stops, after a moment, listening and watching. "We are...not in the places we were made for," he acknowledges, getting up slowly. "Humans are fascinating and loveable, but they come and go so quickly."

He paces back down the beach, standing by Castiel in the water, letting the wavelets wash past. Wordless, he puts a wings around him, and an arm. "I am with you. I will stay with you."

Castiel has posed:
Castiel allows the shelter of those wings, nodding imperceptibly. "We are not where we belong. You did not deserve to be cast down. I do not see that this is teaching me anything. All I see of them only convinces me further it was the right choice."

He does explain the other, though. "He.. does not wish to acknowledge the guilt he feels. The child reminds him both that he has been a failure, which makes him feel more self laothing, but she also reminds him that she will be without him. And he loves her. His love struggles with his loathing. He has no answers. So he allows me the vessel. It is easier."

"I did not know what it was when I met her. There was a spark. A recognition. Only I had only arrived so shortly ago. It is one thing to witness the riturals and understand the mating, but another to be on the receiving end. She was one of those who sought to destroy Lilith's kin. I did not love her. I did not even know there was such a thing. But it was different. I understood more then."

More.. and less. All he'd learned was that the human experience was vastly different than the angelic one, and that perhaps, it wasn't as lacking as he'd been led to believe.

Exile has posed:
"The child?" Hayal's a little confused. "Who hunts Lilith's kindred? It seems very....arrogant of them to hunt demons, but some humans do manage."

He brushes Cas's back with his pinion, absent caresses. It's not the same as flying with one's fellows, but it is a comfort in the world of matter. "I am sorry for the original owner of the body. It is hard, feeling unworthy...."

Castiel has posed:
"What? The child? No. The child is the vessel's. I as trying to be like the humans and share. I was telling you about the woman I met. The one who changed how I saw humans. How could you even think the other?"

To be fair, Castiel's musings had run into one another some.

He agrees, though, "The vessel.. I think he believes this will redeem him. I will be sad when he decides he has forgiven himself. I am.. fond of this vessel."

Exile has posed:
"Ah," he says, more easily. "Well, human language....I get confused. How did she change how you saw humans? You...oh, she courted you? And you understood more, then?> Not less?"

He stands shoulder to shoulder with the other angel. A nod for the comment about forgiveness. "I've never worn a human body. Only this one."

Castiel has posed:
"I do not know if she courted me. I think I amused her. She did not say. I think, now, that it was similar to courting? I was new to this vessel. I did not understand humans any more than what the Choir had taught me. I know more now."

At Hayal's admission, even though it is not a surprise, Castiel turns somewhat in that winged embrace, "How is it you were with a human but still wore this form. Do you not think it curious that you are more human than I and you are hte one who wears the angel skin? Have you.. Have you loved any? More than the rituals. More than the compassion we were given. I think that is the ache I feel. Perhaps it is only the vessel."

Exile has posed:
"I have. Many, in various ways," he says. "I've been down here in the world of matter for a long time. And it's such a central concern for humans, in so many ways. I am not more human, I'd say.....but more accustomed to this plane. This world."

He gazes into Cas's face, smiling gently. "No, I don't think it is only the vessel, but I imagine that has a lot to do with it..."

Castiel has posed:
"What is it like," Castiel asks. "To love someone. Not just the way that I feel for Stupid and his brother. You.. How is it a punishment when you have experienced all these things? I do not understand."

He sighs, shoulders softening their usual tight angles, admitting, "No. It is not only the vessel."

Exile has posed:
What is it like? Hayal is silent for a while, looking at the moon. "It is both wonderful and painful. To know them...to know a heart and a mind, to see that little flame of the divine shining in matter. That is wonderful. To know that they won't last, that their life will end and their spirit pass beyond your reach - that hurts. More than anything. It makes me hesitate. But....I will do so again. I always do. The pain is worth it. The wonder reconciles me to living in matter."

He turns that bright gaze on Castiel. "I think it is not as much a punishment as I feared."

Castiel has posed:
"Her name was Selene. It was the first time I felt excited to be near another being. She was both terrible and exotic at once. Her mind was brilliantly quick and she made no apologies for what she was. Souless and damned. And I still wanted to know her better."

Castiel shakes his head and peers down at his feet in the water, then turns back out to the horizon, still sheltered by Hayal's embrace. To anyone watching, if it were not for the wings, their position would suggest two human males sharing an intimacy. Instead they are anything but, even if there is intimacy of another sort between them.

"I wanted to feel that way about Agent May. She is strong and intelligent. She is fearless and competent. I wanted to feel those things and I did not. And yet, when she did not wish to be with me I still felt confused and I think you would say hurt. I do not understand it. How can you feel a thing and still be hurt by it?"

"You are lucky," he says quietly, his gruffness swallowed by the soft lulling sounds of the waves. "You have known them all the ways there are. You understand them. Have felt this thing that is making my insides feel wrong. I do not understand any of it. I do not think you have been punished. I think we were meant to believe you were so that we would not follow you."

Exile has posed:
"Feelings are very tender. The mind, the emotions....that's part of what I mean about humans not being rational. I don't pretend that I'm very rational myself, anymore," Hayal seems at peace with this. He rubs a hand down Castiel's back, gently.

"I don't know about all the ways there are. But many ways, certainly," he says. "You are in a human body. You feel human feelings with a mind that wasn't designed for them. I was punished. I was afraid and in pain and horrified by being outcast, and I let the Legion have me because I could not imagine a life where I didn't follow orders. But....the Lightbringer's servants are no more happy or free than the Host. I knew I didn't belong there, either." He sighs. "Perhaps so, in the long run. Perhaps you and I were meant to be here and find out these things...."

Castiel has posed:
"I think we punish ourselves," Castiel says. "I do not feel rational. I do not like how I do not understand this body or these things it wants. I do not think it is always the vessel. Only I can not explain why I would feel them. I did not ask for this."

His body tenses, like preparing for an attack. Much like he expects he will have to defend this stance of his. These words.

"I talked with one of them about that. About free will. He could not understand how it was to not have it. And I could not explain how painful it was to have it. That we were not made to have free will. That our Will has ever and always been His."

"But if He did not wish this of me, then why leave me enough of my Grace to be who I am? Why not cast me out fully without it. Why not send me to Lightbringer? But if I am doing His will, then how was it a choice? I want to believe there was a reason for my disobedience that is more than my own failure.."

He gives a short, near barked laugh. "And you. You laugh and play. You are like an innocent. How can you be so unbroken after all you have been through? I have been denied the Choir for less than can be counted on one hand, and you, eons. Why are you not the broken one?"

Exile has posed:
"I was. But life heals. It grows. It persists. We are not sculptures or stones," He says, and there's that undertone in his voice, the echo of the song. "I chose twice. I made myself something new. Which means.....I get to at least try to decide what that new thing is. Suffering .....if it served a purpose, I would suffer. IF I was meant to be a lesson to the Host, let them come and take me and do what they want. Make me an example. I am not strong enough to fight them. Nor yet the Legion."

He shrugs, both wings and shoulders. "But they have not. I exist. I learn. If I am something blasphemous and wrong, then I am."

Castiel has posed:
"You may not be strong enough," Castiel says in considered tones. Tones that say he may not believe the veracity of that statement, even if he will not argue it with Hayal. "But you will never have to fight that fight alone. I will stand at your side should the entire Host of Hosts come to remove your name from the Book of Names."

Where Hayal's voice carries notes of the Choir, Castiel's carries the thunder of his Forces. The strength of the Warrior he was.

And as surely as it rang out and permeated the air about them, mingling with Hayal's pure angelic notes, Castiel relents, offering only, "The boy and his brother were worth saving. If they were not, then why have we stood against the Dark since the beginning of time? I will not regret what I have done, even if it were to cost my entire Grace."

Exile has posed:
"That is my thought," Hayal's voice is light, gentle, but with that steelly note beneath it. He turns to wrap both arms tightly around Castiel, squeeze him close. "I agree. I don't understand humans, but that doesn't make them less. It reflects only my own limitations."

His wings he lets trail, to drift limply on the shifting sea.