Mary Campbell (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
minifridge) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
asgardmeridiem2012-04-15 01:08 am
minifridge) wrote in asgardmeridiem2012-04-15 01:08 am
Entry tags:
CLOSED
Who: Castiel and Mary Campbell
What: Sam is gone, time for a feelings jam.
When: day 64
Where: near TFW's apartment
Rating: PG?
[Mary goes to their apartment because Bobby asks her to. It's simple enough; a fresh pair of eyes to help comb the city for Sam, as futile as it may be. Honestly, she's happy to do it. Just as happy to not examine why too closely- or why, when she thinks of Sam out in the world somewhere, trapped wherever they've taken the gray natives away from Asgard and trying to get back to them - why the thought makes her chest hurt. Why, when he's just an unnaturally tall weirdo hunter with no connection to her who's twice her age, some stranger, that now that he's missing she can't seem to catch her breath whenever she's alone.
Yeah. Some stranger. Some stranger who looks like her dad so much it hurts sometimes to look at him, but - like a hologram - turns his head sometimes and she can see John.
So she goes, because Bobby asks. By the time she actually gets there, though, there's a thousand-pound weight sitting on her chest, something icy closed around her lungs, and she can't go in. A long few minutes of staring up the front steps to the apartment building is interrupted by the wind smacking something right into her face.
It's a feather. Long, black, shining in the midday sun with an iridescence of green, gold, and blue like pictures of the ocean. Another shushing breeze tumbles feathers from around a corner a dozen yards away, from an alley she never noticed before, and Mary follows out of curiosity.
Bobby can wait a while, she reasons, and following the feathers is orders of magnitude easier than walking into that apartment to face him and Dean, who can never quite look at her without something caught and heavy in his eyes, that reminds her a little too much of herself when she thinks of Mom to be entirely comfortable.
The feathers spiraling and dancing in the light breeze takes her through the small alley then out again into a small and rare garden, tucked away in a courtyard deep inside a maze of buildings some distance from Bobby's place, the walled gate long since rusted on its hinges from disrepair by no-doubt-gray natives.
She pushes through overgrown plants cautiously.]
Hello?
What: Sam is gone, time for a feelings jam.
When: day 64
Where: near TFW's apartment
Rating: PG?
[Mary goes to their apartment because Bobby asks her to. It's simple enough; a fresh pair of eyes to help comb the city for Sam, as futile as it may be. Honestly, she's happy to do it. Just as happy to not examine why too closely- or why, when she thinks of Sam out in the world somewhere, trapped wherever they've taken the gray natives away from Asgard and trying to get back to them - why the thought makes her chest hurt. Why, when he's just an unnaturally tall weirdo hunter with no connection to her who's twice her age, some stranger, that now that he's missing she can't seem to catch her breath whenever she's alone.
Yeah. Some stranger. Some stranger who looks like her dad so much it hurts sometimes to look at him, but - like a hologram - turns his head sometimes and she can see John.
So she goes, because Bobby asks. By the time she actually gets there, though, there's a thousand-pound weight sitting on her chest, something icy closed around her lungs, and she can't go in. A long few minutes of staring up the front steps to the apartment building is interrupted by the wind smacking something right into her face.
It's a feather. Long, black, shining in the midday sun with an iridescence of green, gold, and blue like pictures of the ocean. Another shushing breeze tumbles feathers from around a corner a dozen yards away, from an alley she never noticed before, and Mary follows out of curiosity.
Bobby can wait a while, she reasons, and following the feathers is orders of magnitude easier than walking into that apartment to face him and Dean, who can never quite look at her without something caught and heavy in his eyes, that reminds her a little too much of herself when she thinks of Mom to be entirely comfortable.
The feathers spiraling and dancing in the light breeze takes her through the small alley then out again into a small and rare garden, tucked away in a courtyard deep inside a maze of buildings some distance from Bobby's place, the walled gate long since rusted on its hinges from disrepair by no-doubt-gray natives.
She pushes through overgrown plants cautiously.]
Hello?
no subject
I- I don't know. [puppyface ._.] I thought maybe you could use some company.
[She takes a hesitant step towards him, an odd shyness settling over her like a by-product of that earlier sadness.]
And maybe I couldn't stand the thought of going in there and having to hash things out again.
no subject
no matter how much it resembles Sam's.]I am in no mood for discussion.
[He isn't telling her she has to leave, but he also isn't welcoming her presence. His feathers rustle slightly in agitation, though his wings don't move from laying listlessly in the grass.]
no subject
Oh. [Hnngh. She takes another step closer, muscling through most of her uncertainty but still waiting to read him.] Lucky you- I'm not either.
no subject
There are other places you could be to avoid speaking with the others.
no subject
Besides, I haven't seen anything this gorgeous since I came here.
no subject
[He finally offers some actual conversation, glancing around at the garden. With the new life in the city, even the small size of the garden doesn't detract from the beauty of the green grass and leaves, and the budding flowers. It had been duller but no less peaceful while the city had been grey.]
no subject
[The garden isn't entirely as bright as a normal one, and there's still quite a bit of gray and washed-out tones around the garden, but it's enough variety and green that it makes her feel physically homesick. It reminds her of home, of being in a normal place surrounded by brightness and all different colors. She never realized before right now how much she's missed color and beauty; it's a thirst she never knew she had.
At least, not literally.]
no subject
[He shifts, wings rustling, another few feathers falling to rest on the grass.]
no subject
[She looks around, her gaze resting on a black feather against faintly green grass. Mary picks it up and turns it over and over in her hand, looking at it contemplatively, seeing the way it reflects the leaf-filtered light.]
no subject
[The gods could easily be lying to them about the whole thing.]
no subject
[Of everything- the stabbings, the gifts from home. It all fits with the gods' stated justifications of trying to add color.]
no subject
no subject
How are your wings feeling today?