paradisalogs | As I write this down [OPEN]

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As I write this down [OPEN]

Who: Castiel, OPEN
What: Arriving in Tokyodisa~
When: July 20th, around noon
Where: The hotel lobby
Rating: Probably PG at most

Once the sky had gone dark once again Castiel had picked a random direction and re-entered the forest, unsure of where he was and which way to go... And then suddenly he was somewhere completely different. He looked around rapidly, confused, turning in place a few times; the room was completely unfamiliar and his first thought was that Metatron had transported him somewhere, but he was alone.

The room was quiet, clean and inviting but at the same time cold and impartial, and oddly he could see daylight through the window; it had been the middle of the night last he was aware. He took a minute or two to explore the room, all nerves on edge and just waiting for someone or something to appear and break the supposed tranquility, but it never came.

Once he'd figured out that he was truly alone and there was nothing overtly dangerous in the room, his next concern was whether he could get out; when he tried the door and it opened without issue it was something of a surprise, as he'd expected to be locked in. It was, at least, a welcome surprise that he wasn't. Stepping out into the hallway, he glanced back at the door to take note of which one it was, and the sight of his name on the door was also unexpected and slightly disconcerting. He obviously hadn't ended up there on accident, and he needed to figure out how and why he had, and he set off cautiously down the hall.

It became apparent quickly enough that he was in a hotel, and that set him a little more at ease, because at least hotels were something familiar to him. Still, it was surreal in a way--the entire day had been--and he wasn't quite processing everything yet, moving on autopilot, nothing having quite sunk in just yet. As Castiel wandered into the lobby his steps slowed, cautious and on edge once again while he looked for someone who might be able to tell him something about where he was.

Figuring that out was the first step to getting somewhere else.

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Crowley stares at the note for a moment, why would he respond THAT way?

"...Why can't you speak?"

The castle wouldn't take his voice from it, would it? ...Of course it would, the castle's an ass. He closes his eyes behind his shades, collecting himself for a moment, before replying.

"Yeah, you were. A few times, actually. Seems the castle likes you enough to make repeat tries."

Castiel isn't entirely sure the answer to that question, because he had no idea if he'd lost his voice before or after arriving in this place. His eyes flicker uncertainly, but he doesn't offer any response.

That he'd been here more than once is a surprise, though, more than if he'd just been there once, though there's no particularly reason why that should be more unusual.

Have you been here long?

It sounds like it, if Castiel had come and gone more than once and Crowley's been there for all of it.

"...That's not a reassuring answer, Cas."

He looks at the note and nods, carefully.

"About four and a half years now," he says. "Nothing in the grand scheme of existence, but long enough to make something of a difference."

I don't know what is wrong with my voice.

He decides, after a moment, to answer the question after all, even if the answer isn't particularly useful. Crowley's is more so, and indeed four years isn't a long time overall, but it's still significant.

How did you come to be here?

Crowley cants his head, considering.

"It might be your loss. This place, it takes something from you, a price for the pleasure of having it feed off you, it might have taken your voice. Looks that way, anyway."

He gestures to the space around them.

"First off, this isn't a plush hotel in Tokyo, even if it looks it. I came here the same way you did, the same way everyone did. This place, it's a castle, a giant sentient pissed off castle - insane I know, but hear me out - it takes people from different times, different worlds, and keeps them here. And sometimes it has a little fit and changes how everything looks. Or drops us into another part of the world, I don't fucking know. It's a mess, regardless."

That's actually an explanation that could make sense, even if it's not a good one. He'd hoped he might have lost his voice from shock or a side effect of having his grace cut out, and it would return; humans are delicate, and there are any number of reasons it couldn't been.

However, that it's the loss this place takes, it much more likely. The entire thing is strange but not at all crazy considering everything he's seen over time, so he doesn't really question it even though he also isn't taking it completely as truth just yet.

The information is useful, still, and something to go on, and he takes a moment before writing out a simple question.

Why does it take us?

"A castle, normally," Crowley offers. "A sentient castle, one with mood swings and a little village and everything. There's a world beyond it, that some people choose to explore, but no one's found a way home until the castle sends them there."

The idea of place that changes its form so drastically isn't all that strange to him--Heaven does that, after all--so he accepts that without issue. He doesn't like that last comment, about no one having found their own way out, and at least Castiel would have something he could focus his attention on.

He's pretty sure he'll need something, or he won't be able to keep himself together.

For what purpose are we brought here?

Crowley gives a soft shrug.

"No one knows for sure. Most popular theory is that the castle needs to feed off us, our emotions, to keep itself alive. It doesn't like it when we travel too far away from it."

Castiel nods, frowning a little as he considers that answer. He pauses for a short time, before deciding to change the subject.

You said you knew me?

He's feeling a little more at ease, so he's a bit curious about Crowley now.

Crowley had been dreading that question. He shifts uncomfortably for a moment, trying to decide how much to let the angel know. What happened has been and done, and he knows that. There's no point dredging up the past.

"Yeah, knew you on one of your longer stays, for about three years or so."

Castiel watches him, frowning a bit more; he's still not great at reading people, but he knows discomfort when he sees it, and that makes him think Crowley might be hiding something important.

We were friends?

Crowley most certainly is. He's unwilling to go into it, and so, he settles for the option Castiel has offered him.

"Something like that. Not that I'm a big fan of the word, but yeah."

Castiel doesn't use the term lightly either, so he's fine with that answer. But if they were on decent terms and Crowley had known him for three years, then he probably knows a great deal more about Castiel than Castiel does about him, which is unnerving.

Then he realizes he doesn't even know something very basic.

What is your name?

"Name's Crowley."

Ah, wait, that name carried the wrong sort of connotations in Castiel's world now, didn't it? He raises his hands quickly, placatingly.

"Different demon Crowley. Different world."

Castiel's eyes flicker at that name, just as expected; when he last saw his world's Crowley, the demon had kidnapped and shot him, and Castiel is less than fond of him at the moment. He does know, obviously, that this isn't the same Crowley, and so he accepts the reassurance, but there's something else of note in that comment.

You're a demon?

There's no use hiding it, unaware of Castiel's current predicament, as far as he's aware, the angel will become an angel again once they return to Paradisa, and then it'll be obvious. Might as well get that cleared up now.

"Yeah. A fallen angel, in fact, that's how demons are made in my world."

Well, that's interesting. Different worlds mean different rules, clearly, and Castiel knows that angels--fallen or not--vary widely in morals and personality. So he'll withhold judgement for the moment on the topic.

What do you know about me?

Ah, now that was a loaded question. Crowley looks at the ceiling, contemplating his answer carefully. He could tell Castiel so much about himself, things the angel probably didn't even realise.

"I know a lot, we didn't really have secrets."

That earns an incredibly suspicious look from Castiel, because he's not even honest with the Winchesters a lot of the time. Sure, maybe if he were younger and had spent three years with someone it's possible he might be more open, but at the moment he finds it incredibly difficult to believe and he doesn't know if Crowley is serious or attempting to play him somehow.

So he just watches the other for a moment, waiting to see if he'll elaborate.

Crowley can feel the gaze and knows Castiel expects more. But how can he even start to explain this? He could hardly find words to properly define how they were back then, let alone now.

"It was a long time ago, even for you. Before all the...apocalypse stuff really kicked in for you. You were still learning how the world worked, really. Guess I was somewhat familiar."

That he was much younger isn't a surprise, and explains a bit; he had certainly been more naive back then. He'll accept that answer for now, writing out another question.

You know what I am?

Or was, anyway.

"I am a demon...usually. It's a little hard to miss the fact an angel's shown up. I knew the second you arrived."

And it had been comforting, really. Aziraphale wasn't around and he'd missed having an angel to speak to. Castiel filled in a gap he solely needed, and then became so much more afterwards.

His eyes flicker for a moment at that answer, because while he doesn't necessarily mind that Crowley knows what he is--was--he wonders immediately if he can tell what he's not, now. If not, he'll surely figure it out soon, and that's not something Castiel wants anyone really finding out about.

He does note a word in that sentence that might tell him a bit more, though.

Usually?

He'll know that for certain, but chances are he won't bring it up, it's Cas' business, after all.

"Usually. The castle's made me human right now. It does that sometimes, makes everyone the same species, equality and all that, I suppose."

As I write this down [OPEN]

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