[ Frowning, his thoughts circle those words. They spoke of his intrusion but with the way Dean trails off at the end, it leaves him with a sinking feeling. It settles in his chest, heavy and oppressive. Was that why Dean was here instead of the Castiel from his timeline? Did he overstep by pressing on that line of communication? ]
Advice on what?
[ His tone is heavy but passive, not pushing but emphasizing his need to know. A contradiction of wanting to know but trying to keep the boundaries he never quite seemed to see.
This Dean, at least, drew that line in the sand the first time they met greeting him with a stonewall. No need to guess their standing. Even he understood banishment. That ceaseless feeling ailing inside reaching for a severed connection no longer there to touch on.
Subtle sabotage.
Still, he was grateful for the reprieve of another blundered introduction. For the knowledge of knowing exactly where he stood.
He misses that.
Dean keeps going, explaining himself in a way he never did before. The fact that this side of him only came about after he lost his memories unsettles him. Leaves him guessing who Dean sees when he looks at him. He or Constantine. The personality that took over when he had no memories to cast a shadow on their interactions.
At his side, his fingers flex into a ball no longer passive the longer Dean keeps meandering around the point. All he needs to know is what's wrong, so he can fix it. ]
Dean. [ He finally cuts in. ] What are you trying to tell me?
[ He wants that back. The line in the sand so he knows what is real and what isn't. So he doesn't have to guess at meanings he has no hope of understanding. A laughable thought, to think a celestial being with all the knowledge at his possession could be so easily overwhelmed by a listless soul. ]
no subject
Advice on what?
[ His tone is heavy but passive, not pushing but emphasizing his need to know. A contradiction of wanting to know but trying to keep the boundaries he never quite seemed to see.
This Dean, at least, drew that line in the sand the first time they met greeting him with a stonewall. No need to guess their standing. Even he understood banishment. That ceaseless feeling ailing inside reaching for a severed connection no longer there to touch on.
Subtle sabotage.
Still, he was grateful for the reprieve of another blundered introduction. For the knowledge of knowing exactly where he stood.
He misses that.
Dean keeps going, explaining himself in a way he never did before. The fact that this side of him only came about after he lost his memories unsettles him. Leaves him guessing who Dean sees when he looks at him. He or Constantine. The personality that took over when he had no memories to cast a shadow on their interactions.
At his side, his fingers flex into a ball no longer passive the longer Dean keeps meandering around the point. All he needs to know is what's wrong, so he can fix it. ]
Dean. [ He finally cuts in. ] What are you trying to tell me?
[ He wants that back. The line in the sand so he knows what is real and what isn't. So he doesn't have to guess at meanings he has no hope of understanding. A laughable thought, to think a celestial being with all the knowledge at his possession could be so easily overwhelmed by a listless soul. ]