video;

[strangelic]

[ The man who appears on screen is wearing white hospital clothes, despite attempts to get him into something a little more him. They're comfortable, he protests. Over this he's wearing a much loved and heavily dry-cleaned (thanks, Dean) beige colored coat, the combination of the two making him look like a businessman - or perhaps a P.I. - who's had a little bit of a mental breakdown. Which...it's not far off from the truth.

In any case, he's sitting in the dark, looking drawn and tired, like he's either been trying very hard not to sleep, or the sleep hasn't been very good. It's a combination of the two, actually. ]

Did you know that human minds are most susceptible to influence when you're dreaming? If you wanted to teach yourselves how to communicate telepathically, for instance, it would be far better to do it when you're sleeping, when your brain isn't fettered by the constant needs of your body. Itching. Twitching. Fidgeting. All its aches and grumbles and complaints. Emotions. Recollections. Listening to other people chatter incessantly. Television. Arousal. You get the idea. It's all very distracting.

[ Seriously. Who let Castiel talk? Like ever.]

And let me tell you, some of those thoughts take up a lot of your time.

I--where was I? Ah. That is to say, I haven't ever slept before. I've visited dreams, of course, but experiencing my own is something else entirely. Something I'd rather avoid, if it's at all possible. So-- [ Deep breath. ] --I was wondering if anyone had any suggestions. Mnemonics, perhaps. The opposite of counting sheep. I'd drink coffee but I'm afraid I've discovered it has much the same effect on me as alcohol, which is to say I'd have to drink most of a plantation in order to have any kind of success.

Your assistance, please. I can't repay you, per se, but... Oh. [ He lifts his hands in front of him, and cups them together, and when he lifts them apart there is a little origami swan between his palms. ] I can do this.

Comments

[strangelic]

...I.

I'm not sure what to make of that suggestion. I hope it's merely that your sense of humor is a little worse than my own.

[notjustinthemirror]

I wouldn't say I have much of one, but sure.

If thinking that helps you sleep at night.

[strangelic]

What would be the truth of it?

[notjustinthemirror]

The truth of it?

Some people like to believe whatever they want rather than reality. I don't know how it works, but [ He shrugs. ]

[strangelic]

I am a firm believer in reality myself.

[ His reality just includes angels and fairies and actual cupid and imaginary friends. ]

[notjustinthemirror]

How do you know what's real?

[strangelic]

Reality is itself in the majority. How wouldn't you know?

[notjustinthemirror]

Reality is subjective. It's what you want it to be, so if you want it to be the majority, I suppose it is.

For you.

[strangelic]

Oh I'm...I'm hardly in the majority. Quite the opposite, in fact. If you were to look through an angel's eyes, you would see reality in a very different way, too.

[notjustinthemirror]

I doubt I'll have the opportunity to carve out an angels eyes and look through them. But I'll keep that in mind.

[strangelic]

I...

You'd do that? Carve out my eyes?

[notjustinthemirror]

I wasn't planning on it. Would you like me to?

[strangelic]

Please don't. I like my eyes where they are, thank you.

[ He's been sure he was unsettled for a reason by this conversation but this...is definitely a good reason. ]

[notjustinthemirror]

Are you implying you're an angel?

[strangelic]

I am an angel. [ Just a tiny bit defiantly now. ]

[notjustinthemirror]

And I'm a demon.

How poetic this is.

[strangelic]

You're hardly the first demon I've met.

The first who steals eyes...but perhaps that's what possession is, after all; taking the eyes as well as everything else.

[notjustinthemirror]

I don't steal eyes. What the fuck would I do with them?

[ He gestures to the mask on his face. ]

[strangelic]

[ Are you sure you're not just wearing a mask cause you think it looks cool. Really.

But seriously, Cas is a literalist, he can't help himself. ]

You said... Never mind. What kind of demon are you?

[notjustinthemirror]

[ Looking cool is just a bonus. ]

Alcohol.

Why do people always ask that? No one asks what kind of angel you are.

[ Supernatural entity racists. ]

[strangelic]

Alcohol is its own demon, in my recollection.

They should. There's a significant difference between a cherub and an archangel.

[notjustinthemirror]

Yeah. Me.

And which one are you?

[strangelic]

I... See. That's interesting. I've only been inebriated once...

I'm a seraph, a higher angel, although it wasn't always that way.

[notjustinthemirror]

I can change that if you'd like.

There's a hierarchy? What do you get at the top?

[strangelic]

Archangels. My elder brothers, Michael, Gabriel, Raphael and Lucifer. They're all gone, now, or locked away.

[ Which puts seraphs at the top, not that that's been working out well for them. ]

You might find it difficult to inebriate me. Angels aren't especially prone. Though it does sound... I remember it being distracting.