Test Drive Meme #3

[changelinged]

TDM #3 - May/June 2025

🦋 Introduction

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🦋 The Party

You wake up at a party.

You're not sure how, exactly, you got here. You may have just been walking in the woods or at a meeting for work or doing any other normal activity for you. But you know you weren't supposed to be at this party, you're fairly certain.

Anyone you ask about it will say the party is for you. You and the others also waking up and looking confused. Further questions will lead to the partygoers insisting you have something to eat. You're starving and others are eating the food without repercussion, so you figure there's no harm in a bite. You finish your portion.

It's another garden party near a large hedge maze in the middle of the night. With his penchant for games the Ruler of the Spring Court decided it would be nice to hold an actual game for all the Adopted present. None of that dreidel game a couple of parties ago. This time, he wants more spectacle with higher stakes. Forced to participate and host aspects of this gathering as well, the Ruler of the Dark Court wanted nothing to do with this, so he figured his participation in itself is for the party to happen at night, during his rule, when his mood is at its most pleasant.

Of course, there is no shortage of light sources such as candles and torches, much to the Earl's chagrin, as well as no shortage of food. This time, the fae decided to try their hand on some pasta. They heard it's a good delicacy from the mortal plane. Thing is, sauces look and smell bizarre. One's purple, while another's bright pink, and they taste fruity, as well as flowery, much like the cookies from the last gathering.

As the party winds down and everyone's eaten, a tall, stately woman stands up and speaks. You feel her voice more than hear it.

I am the Lawspeaker of the Fae, elected by Seelie and Unseelie alike, and you are all, now, subjects of Faerie. You cannot leave this realm once you have eaten our food, and even if you could, there is no saying how much time has passed back where you're from. Your loved ones are likely dead, your problems have likely played out. We require assistance in various matters, and each of you has been chosen for your talent and skill. You will be adopted by one of the Seelie or Unseelie Courts based on your strengths and personality. Your Court will decide what to do with you from there.

As suddenly as she stood, she sits back down.

🦋 Feeling on Hedge

So, what about this hedge maze that seems to have appeared out of nowhere and looming quite eerily beside this night's gathering? For one, peculiar noises can be heard whenever one's near its entrance. From the rustling of leaves to a woman crying, everything seems to be coming from inside.

Of course, the Adopted's participation is required and paramount. Anyone who refuses will be met with harsh penalties and consequences, whatever those may be. They also hint of a prize to anyone who comes out victorious on the other side. It's unclear what it is, though.

The fae know that while the Adopted have been very useful so far, they are also vulnerable and susceptible to fear, so to mitigate that, they have some colorful shots on a table marked LIQUID COURAGE near the entrance to the maze with such effects:

• Gold: Essentially a strong drink that gives you profound energy for 24 hours.
• Red: Downing this will make you feel warm like an aphrodisiac.
• Blue: Basically functions like a normal tequila shot. Or three. Comes with a little bag of salt.

These shots are not compulsory for the Adopted to take, but they will be highly encouraged to do so before entering. Once inside, the rustling of leaves and the sounds of someone crying become louder and even more evident. There are also a few key things that seem to be very clear the longer an Adopted is within the maze's walls:

• The maze is moving. How it's doing it, nobody knows. But it appears to be alive somehow, much like the castle grounds, so finding a clear pathway is almost impossible.
• Whenever an Adopted turns right two consecutive times, they will see a more positive outcome from a terrible event in their lives. Lost someone? They're now here and alive. Gave up on a dream? You find yourself currently living it.
• If an Adopted turns left two consecutive times, they will see someone, a family member or a friend who's still alive and had a deep impact on their lives, bleeding and dead on the ground.

It would be great if no one else can see an Adopted during their most vulnerable, but since the maze moves constantly, another Adopted or two might be able to see them trying to parse out what they're seeing, even if their fellow Adopted can't see it themselves.

🦋 Can't Unseelie It

CW: dismemberment, body horror, forced body transformations, mild gore, asphyxiation, drowning of children, death

The Spring King only wanted some good-natured fun within the maze, but unbeknownst to him, some Unseelie creatures and Unseelie magic have appeared inside, threatening the safety of the Adopted traversing every nook and cranny. Surely this will not have any lasting consequences between the relationship of the Seelie and Unseelie court rulers. Not at all.

A few of these Unseelie beings and Unseelie magic roaming around the hedge maze that the Adopted will have a chance to meet are as follows:

• Manananggal: Capable of severing its torso from its legs, this vampiric creature usually preys on sleeping pregnant women and unborn babies. But not anymore. Due to magic put on it, this manananggal will strike anyone it comes across. Better pour salt on its severed lower torso once you find it, or else.
• La Llorona: Remember that woman crying? Well, somewhere in the maze alongside the eerie sounds of water flowing, you'll come across a weeping woman cloaked in white with her back turned against you. Be careful not to approach her because once you do, she'll try to choke you to death, reminiscent of how she drowned her own children.
• Jersey Devil: The first thing you'll hear once you turn is a high-pitched, blood-curdling scream then the sound of bat wings flapping. You better run as fast as you can to the other direction because this devil is out to attack anyone it sees on its path.
• A fountain: How odd. Running from the jersey devil or the manananggal might have made you thirsty so perhaps there's no harm in drinking from it. But just coming in contact with its water will make any Adopted soon realize they have transformed into an Unseelie creature.

Fighting off these creatures might be best with a fellow Adopted. After all, there's power in numbers. Just be careful not to die within the hedge maze. There might be some dire consequences.

🦋 GEIS

You feel a vibration in your pocket sometime after the Lawspeaker addresses everyone. When you search for the source, you will pull out your Leaf, the device the Fae use to stay in touch with each other. Anyone who's used a smart phone will easily recognize how it works.

Greetings, Adopted. This is your Lawspeaker.

To be on theme with our festivities for tonight, we want to know a time in your life when you felt lost and wandering about. Perhaps the most compelling story will receive a reward from us.

ｎａｖｉｇａｔｉｏｎ

code

Comments

castiel | supernatural (dusk - current character)

[nuntius]

🌙 Welcome/Arrival

[ He’s done this song and dance several times, the arrival party. He only goes now because he’s fairly certain if he didn’t, the fae would find a way to make him go. This sort of reluctant compliance is acceptable, mostly because it doesn’t involve endangering anyone, it just involves him sitting on a stone bench and looking fairly surly. His hands are folder in his lap and he’s watching the party with sleepy eyes, dark circles underneath them as always. Jimmy had always been a tired man, especially after Castiel had began speaking to him, beckoning him, asking permission to take him as a vessel. After arguments with his wife, a psychosis diagnosis, sticking his hand in a pot of scalding water on blind faith…he said yes.

And then Castiel rode him hard, Jimmy likening it to being attached to a comet. As such, Castiel maintains many of Jimmy’s microexpressions, the look of his face and body, though it’s somehow softened with guilt and age. Castiel may appear only thirty-five, but there’s something timeless about him, an ancient creature behind tired blue eyes. He stays seated with a sort of folded grace, a man who’s trying very hard not to take up too much space in this world that owes him nothing. There’s a thoughtful furrow to his brow, only serving to make him look more human than angel.

The lights glitter too brightly all around him. Torches hum with fae magic, flora that seems to breathe when no one's looking. He does not eat - he’s done that before, and the taste of something sickeningly sweet still lingers, even now. Eating is what kept him here.

Should you pass him or sit beside him, he’ll look up and offer a tired smile, expression turning wry. ]

The pasta tastes like flowers and regret. I’d recommend skipping it, unless you're feeling particularly bold. [ A brief pause, then he says; ] They’ll tell you the party is for you, but I suspect it’s the standard script.

🌿 Maze

[ Castiel enters the maze without taking a shot. The liquid courage doesn’t appeal to him - not out of pride, but because he’s fairly certain nothing in those glasses could touch the parts of him that still feel fear or guilt (there is a lot of guilt).

Hell, or hope, for that matter.

He does, however, take the salt. That can certainly come in handy, and he pockets one small cloth pouch, then another. And maybe one more. They are quietly tucked into an inner pocket of his coat, knowing that it can often be the line between survival and deep regret. The maze hums as he enters, shifting just enough to be noticed. The path closes behind him, and the air thickening, anticipation (or maybe terror) hanging heavy in the air.

The crying starts and Castiel frowns, glancing left, right, left again. The sound seems to be coming from everywhere, but he listens hard, eyes closing, focusing on the sound before he starts moving. He follows it as best as he can - not because he’s curious, but because he can’t hear the suffering and pretend that he doesn’t care anymore. He does. Dean made sure of that.

So he takes a right, pauses. Listens again, head tilting, then continues on, rounding another corner on his right - and that’s when the vision hits.

It’s Dean, which should come as no surprise to anyone he’s spoken to. Dean is…kind of all Castiel talks about sometimes, and it can likely be annoying. But it’s him, it’s Dean Winchester, alive, content. happy. He’s at peace, sitting at a cluttered kitchen table with a glass of whiskey, Sam sitting across from him with one of his own, both laughing at some inside joke between them. It’s after the apocalypse, Castiel realizes. It’s a better outcome. It’s Lucifer in the pit with Michael, Raphael’s attention elsewhere, and–

And that’s him - it’s a version of himself, Castiel, entering the dining room holding a badly burned pizza that he’d clearly made himself, placing it on the table with pride.

Looks good, Cas. Dean’s voice is so clear and pronounced, Castiel would swear he was in the room with them.

Sam’s expression makes it clear his opinion does not mirror Dean’s, but he only smiles at the angel, a sheepish expression on his face, and wisely says nothing.

Castiel shakes his head, an unfamiliar twist pulsing deep in his chest, an ache so painful it nearly has him doubling over. As it is, he clutches his heart, the steady thump of Jimmy’s heart pumping blood through a vessel Castiel’s presence keeps alive.

The way Dean looks at him in the vision…Castiel can’t let himself imagine it. He turns away, eyes squeezing shut, trying to block out the vision that now seems to be burned into his retinas. ]

It’s not real. That is not mine to want.

[ OR - another option–

Castiel has only made one right thus far, but perhaps you’re with him. Perhaps you make the next call to turn right, and stumble upon something positive, something different than what you’d expected.

Perhaps you run into him frowning at a bag of salt, staring at the little particles in his hand, mumbling something about I still don’t entirely understand why an ionic compound formed by sodium and chlorine actually repels demons. ]

🕷️ Can’t Unseelie It

[ Something screeches behind him, a sound like metal teeth raking across glass. Castiel winces, because even to an angel, the sound is grating and jarring. He turns right, and the maze shifts again right in front of his face.

At this point, he’s completely lost count of how many turns he’s made. He’s been stuck in here for what feels like hours, and it’s causing him considerable distress - not because he feels stupid, but because his powers aren’t helping guide him out. He should be able to simply teleport, appear somewhere else, but he can’t.

He grips the final pouch of salt in his hand. It’s half-empty by now; the last creature he’d flung it at dissolving horrifically in front of him left him with very little remaining. What was left of the creature had dragged itself back into the hedges, and Castiel hadn’t followed. Now, he’s crouched near a hedge wall, one knee in the dirt, coat stained with something dark and sticky. His hands are also slick with it, and it’s disgusting, whatever it is..

The crying hasn’t stopped, either, though it’s had its on and off pauses, Castiel continuing to follow when he can, but it has begun to come from too many directions at once. This time though, he can see her. She’s cloaked in white, though only her back is visible if one looks around the corner. The crying is louder now, and Castiel’s jaw is set.

The tiniest noise alerts him to someone’s presence, and he flings an arm out, sensing you before he sees you, stopping you in your tracks. It’s probably like walking into a solid iron bar, which isn’t fun. But it halts you, at least, and that’s what is currently important. ]

Don’t look at her, [ it’s whispered, and even though he’s quiet, his voice is tight, firm. ] Don’t let her look at you.

[ He tilts his head, listening to the sound, peeking around the corner to get one more look. ]

La Llorna. Her mythology predates modern times by thousands of years, some say all the way back to the Aztec empire. [ He pauses, then continues in a hushed whisper. ] One version states that if you hear her, you are cursed with misfortune or death.

[ This is when he finally looks at you. ]

Let’s hope the legends aren’t true.

(( ooc; ota of course! wildcards are welcome, and if you have something you want or have any ideas feel free to pm me or hmu virtuously! ))

Can't Unseelie It

[kingforboth]

[That was an absolutely lovely sound and definitely not one he'd heard before. He used to find hedge mazes comforting, a place of solitude where he could relax. Then again, it had been his hedge maze and he knew how to get out of it. This? Was something completely different.

Despite the obvious use of magic around them, Kelson was still very wary of using his own abilities. Even though these people most likely didn't harbor the same reactions as his own, it had been ingrained into him to be careful. That being outed as Deryni could always be a death sentence. One might blame the sight of his friend and bishop tortured and almost burned at the stake being seared into the young king's eyes. Or perhaps his narrow minded, religious zealot of a mother who was convinced her only son was going to burn in hell for accepting who and what he was.

Either way, you first, Castiel. He stopped short when literally bumped into Castiel's arm, which in itself opened up quite a lot of questions for Kelson. Obeying immediately, he averted his gaze, ducking around a corner to try to avoid the...whatever.

He had been about to ask who the Aztecs where but he supposed it probably didn't matter right now and he could satisfy his endless curiosity later, when their lives weren't on the line.]

That's okay. My life has already been cursed with misfortune and death. How do we deal with her?

[nuntius]

[ Castiel, unfortunately, is not the hunter Sam and Dean are. He’s spent most of his billions of years in Heaven, leaving only to fight in wars, smite demons, or deliver messages that usually made people cry, or convert, though that normally isn't the purpose of the mission.

Most of his monster lore knowledge comes secondhand, patched together from Sam and Dean's own fieldwork and their deciphering of John Winchester’s increasingly unhinged journal. What he doesn’t learn from them, he picks up through whispered prayers, obscure theological footnotes, or the occasional ancient curse buried in a language no one speaks anymore. Well, except Castiel. He himself speaks all languages, reads everything.

(unless it's the direct word of god, but that comes in later seasons and we don't talk about bruno.)

That said, the three of them? They make a good team. The Winchester boys are the most skilled hunters in the business, and that isn't just Castiel's pride speaking. They are well known in many circles, both human and other. They're smart, they're lethal, but sometimes even the most lethal predator needs help. Sometimes, Castiel knows things Sam and Dean don’t, and Dean has said before it's handy to have an angel in your pocket. It all works well enough. ]

You don’t fight La Llorona directly. [ Castiel stays where he is, crouched down, peeking every so often to make sure she hasn't changed course. ] You avoid her, stay out of her reach. Avoid water, always.

[ He pauses, mind processing faster than his stupid human vessel's mouth can speak ]

It’s interesting, I think, that there are so many ‘woman in white’ stories. They exist all over the world.

You have this one, [ Castiel gestures, still speaking in hushed tones; ] La Llorona. In Japan, there’s Onryō - vengeful spirits, usually female, often seen wearing a white burial kimono. India has its own versions, as do the Balkans, the Philippines, and even parts of northern Europe.

The names are different and often the backstories don't quite match. But the pattern remains - a woman, wronged or grieving, in white. Weeping, hunting...Bound to a place or a wound. Both.

[ He falls quiet, looking down at the ground, at his hands. ]

I wonder what she is grieving.

[ Castiel stays lost in that thought for a moment, his own mistakes and heartaches warring for space in the hollow beneath his ribs. Perhaps everyone is at risk for becoming like her, this woman in white. All it takes is the right grief, the right betrayal from the right person. ]

We should go back the other way, before she notices us.

[kingforboth]

[Kelson's own magical knowledge and abilities were somewhat mixed. He had his Deryni magic, gifted from his mothers side, which he had to train. And that training, while learned, was missing key components, being as his teachers also didn't have a complete set of training if you put them both together. Then, Kelson had his Haldane magic, coached as a divine right of kingship, Kelson was quite sure it was closer to his own Deryni magic than anything else. But that magic? He didn't need to learn. It just came to him, when the situation demanded it. And now? Nothing was coming to mind.

Which made sense when Castiel mentioned that fighting wasn't the best method.

For a moment Kelson stared at woman in white, wondering too if he could become like her. If maybe all the grief he'd amounted in his short life that seemingly kept piling up year after year overwhelmed him. Twisting the ring on his pinky, he nodded up to Castiel, slipping back as he suggested.]

I suppose it's probably a little worrisome to mention that I understand. Being so caught up in a grief you can't seem to unwind from yourself.

[He shook his head, trying to get his thoughts straight, soothing out the mask once more.]

You know quite a lot.

[There were two options Kelson thought of. Castiel was either nobility, which didn't seem quite right. Or he was a priest. Maybe a Bishop? That didn't seem quite right either. But how else would he have acquired that kind of knowledge?]

[nuntius]

[ Castiel, though fluent in the lore of many things and their origins, sometimes wonders if a creature like himself might one day become something like her, this woman, this wound in white. He glances over, contemplative, but on edge, aware of her proximity. ]

Yes. [ Castiel's voice is low, quiet. There’s no judgment in it, no surprise. ] It is worrisome.

[ He doesn’t elaborate on whether he means Kelson’s comment, or the truth beneath it. Castiel doesn’t name the grief that twists beneath his ribs, settled deep in his core, he doesn’t speak of the angels he’s killed, or the ones he will.

Of Raphael, who only understands ruin.

Of Heaven, that he loved too much to continue to obey. ]

I've been alive a long time. [ 'Alive' is subjective, he supposes, but easiest to articulate. Castiel meets Kelson’s gaze, steady and ancient. ]

You learn things, when you watch what grief makes of people.

[ Of angels.

He looks away again, toward the corner where the weeping still coils through the hedges like mist. The salt pouch shifts in his hand, and he flicks his eyes between his companion, and the way out. ]

We should move, before she decides we look familiar.

[kingforboth]

[There was something in Castiel's eyes, that both unnerved Kelson and made him deeply curious. He wanted to reach out now, to satisfy his curiosity, but he stayed his hand. Best wait until they were safe. His curiosity could wait that long. Nodding to his new companion, he darted around, hoping to make a break for safety. He'd since realized not to use his own magic to try to sense around the maze--and he didn't want to possibly draw the woman in white's attention further if she sensed anything. Nodding, he walked, slowly and carefully, trying to make it to safety without being noticed.

He sees the salt pouch, he'd never used it besides in ritual purposes, but it didn't take long for him to figure out why he was carrying it.]

I wonder what the point is. Of her being here. If we cannot fight her. How do we amuse our captors?

[Kelson took that moment to stop, to turn to Castiel, to try and brush a hand on exposed skin, to let his own senses try to penetrate the mind. He didn't think he'd be noticed. He probably should have considering those eyes.]

Can't Unseelie It

[mordaz]

[ For his rescue efforts, Castiel is treated to some startled owl noises when some of the air is knocked out of her, both hands clamping down on his arm to steady herself. Grumpy as the teenager might be, she shifts her position to retreat and crouch down beside him. Octavia does not know the offensive spells to take their wailing woman out herself.

Defense? That is another story. She is about to peek around the corner when he tells her not to look. Her feathers puff up a little and she backpedals, bright eyes blinking at him. If she can't look at her, why did he just try? Human-shaped things are so weird. ]

Aren't we already cursed with misfortune here? The King has a twisted sense of humor. [ As the noise continues, she clamps her hand over either side of her beanie to muffle the sound going into her ears with a wince. She is going to regret asking this, isn't she? Her tone even mirrors her hesitation. ]

What are the legends?

cw; brief child death mention

[nuntius]

[ Castiel doesn’t flinch when she grabs his arm, it's why he flung it into her path, to stop her. He’s made of tension and bloodstains at the moment, and her grip is the least of his problems.

The feathers do, briefly, throw him.

He huffs the softest of laughs, glancing at her, a brow lifted, lips curved into a small smirk. ]

We might be, [ he'll admit that; ] But curses stack.

[ He risks a peak around the corner. She's still facing away for now, and he eases back, exhaling slowly, softly. ]

As for the legends...Some say she drowned her children. Some say she was betrayed by a lover. Others claim she was cursed with the need for revenge, or that it was madness that drives her to haunt. The details vary all over the world, but every version ends with her wandering and crying.

[ He turns his full attention on his new companion, now. ]

Most stories say if she catches you, she drowns you; in water, in memory. Grief, maybe. Whatever she can get her hands on first. We should go, back the other way - before she notices us.

[mordaz]

Can it actually get any worse than watching the king lust after people, seeing weirdos over the phone, accidentally setting your sheets on fire with a power you didn't know you had, watching your dad's boyfriend be a perv on the network, finding out your dad picked the name Hooters for the network and not having any music to drown out any of it?

[ She is absolutely serious. Having her music would shut out the rest of the world, she might even be willing to play tag with this wailing woman if she didn't have to hear her. ]

This whole place is like one terrible hellanovela and if someone starts singing, I will literally throw myself off of the castle. [ Upon hearing the story of the legends she wrinkles up her nose and adjusts her beanie. Betrayed by a lover, cursed by the need for revenge - that sounds like her mother. Except her shrieking is even worse. ]

If you keep peeking around the corner like that, she'll definitely notice us. [ GOD Castiel. If he goes in for a third peek, she is going to drag him away forcibly. ] If she follows us, I can use my magic to shield us, but I'd rather not stick around to see if she can get through it.

[ So she's just going to be backpedaling with all the grace a bird can muster while simultaneously shooting an annoyed look at the corner the woman is hiding on the other side of. Of course, some phantom caricature of her mother would be here. ]

[nuntius]

[ Castiel gives her a sidelong glance, unimpressed but vaguely sympathetic. ]

I don't think there's as baseline as to how much worse it can get.

[ He does not peek again, because he's in agreement. It's only a matter of time before he looks, and she looks back.]

If she follows us, we'll use whatever we've got. Shields, feathers, wings, curses - I won’t argue. But let’s try not to provoke her if we don’t have to.

[ He pauses, glancing over at her, eyes shining briefly a blue-white; just a flicker of the angel beneath the vessel, quiet and watchful. He starts backing away with her, glancing down at the salt in his hand before tugging the pouch open and carefully making a line across the path - between them and the corner, around which lies the screeching woman herself. ]

Just in case. Let's go.

Maze

[amberdrake]

[ Amberdrake can't see what the stranger sees, but he can see his reaction to it. Feel it, too, unless Castiel has some way to shut himself off from Empathic readings that for Drake, is just another sense like sight and smell. And even if that were the case, the man can read body-language like a book, and Castiel is...

...broadcasting pretty loud and clear, there.

He steps closer, radiating that gentle calm of his, and holds out a hand. Not so much to be taken, although Castiel wouldn't be the first to do that if he chose to, and Drake wouldn't have an issue with it. More of a universal... hello, I'm harmless. ]

The visions in this place are... sadistic.

[ He won't ask if the stranger is okay, he's well aware he's not. No one has been, in this maze. That's clearly not the intent behind it. ]

Just breathe through it, if you can. Let it pass by you.

[nuntius]

[ That vision is lingering in his brain like a bad hangover, thick and heavy, fog settling in like a cold mountain morning. It feels like it's burned into his eyelids, every time he closes his eyes he will see this again, this beautiful thing he can never have. He thinks he can almost smell the pizza, the heat of it that doesn't burn him, the weight of it in his hands. Dean's voice echoes, softer than he's ever heard it in real life.

He knows it isn't real, he does. And he now knows there is someone beside him - they cannot see it, and he's glad for that. He clears his throat and blinks slow, owlish, shaking his head briefly, as if to clear it.

It doesn't work. ]

Not just sadistic...they're tailored.

[ How could they dig so deeply into his mind and find such a thing? No fire, no brimstone. No hollow apologies, just...peace. Warm light, laughter, and a burned pizza. Two brothers and an angel, celebrating victory.

His laugh is bitter as he draws a breath, following instruction. It doesn't help, exactly, but it's a start. The vision clings to the edges of his senses like smoke clings to fabric, but he grips the little pouch of salt he'd been gripping in his fist, gripping it tight to help ground himself.

He focuses back on the new voice. ]

I think...it's fading.

[amberdrake]

The most sadistic usually are.

[ People, visions, spells. It applies to them all. ]

Good. These visions don't seem to linger for as long if we don't let them draw us in.

[ Easier said than done, he knows. But any improvement is better than none. ]

[nuntius]

[ Castiel’s grip on the salt pouch loosens further, threatening to slip from his fingers. He still feels the echo of the vision - warm light, Dean’s voice, the scent of scorched crust - but it’s duller now, like something fading in the rearview. He looks at his new companion, voice quiet. ]

You're right. They know exactly where to strike.

[ A breath. Not quite steady, but close enough. ]

Thanks. [ He's a little awkward, after being caught like that. He's only grateful it hadn't seemed like the other person saw any of it. ] That wasn't something I expected.

[amberdrake]

[ Drake offers him a small, gentle smile. ]

I wish I could say that's why they chose it, but...

[ He's fully expected the awful shit he's been seeing in this maze; sees most of it every time he sleeps, after all. But that expectation hasn't made the tactics shift one little bit, for better or worse. ]

We can stick together, if you like. Better to draw each other out of the visions as they come, along the way.

[nuntius]

[ He's quiet, staring at the fading scene, shaking his head to clear it. ]

Yes. That's a good idea. [ He wants to escape into it, though. Chase it down, snatching at it. That desire is there. He isn't sure what would happen if he tried, but it's likely he'd only grab mist, or end up somewhere less than pleasant. ]

...Could you see it? The...things I saw?

[amberdrake]

No.

[ Thankfully, the visions haven't been that inclusive of others. ]

But I can see your reaction to it, and I see those things more clearly than most.

[ A lifetime of training in reading expression and body language and tone, and then there's also his Empathic Gift. ]

can't unseelie

[maritorious]

[It's the crying that has drawn Nancy to Castiel's position. A naturally nurturing woman, any sort of crying tugs at her heartstrings, and in a place like this, on a day like this? She'd like to offer whatever sort of help she can.

But this plan is thrown to the wayside when she walks right into Castiel's outstretched arm- he manages to hit her at about upper-chest height, and it smarts. Frowning, she rubs where they made contact with the heel of her hand, about to ask him what gives. But lo, he's on top of that, it would seem.

It also seems that he knows what could have been causing that crying, and something about his tone makes Nancy not want to object beyond a simple:] You're sure? [Who even knows what an Aztec is, but if he's right about the crying...

She meets his uncanny blue eyes with her hazel ones, her lips parted and brow furrowed in worry.] You don't- you don't really think that's true, do you? I mean, it's not like a banshee. [Those troublesome spirits were well known to Nancy, given her upbringing in the slums of London. She'd heard plenty of tales.]

[nuntius]

[ Castiel lowers his arm slowly now that she’s stopped. His expression is unreadable for a moment, watchful, weary - but not unkind. ]

Very sure.

[ His gaze flicks back toward the sound, which has shifted again, closer, or maybe just louder. He shakes his head. ]

She’s not a banshee. La Llorona - [ he exhales, slow, steady; ] - she mourns what she lost, and tries to take it back from others.

[ His eyes meet hers again. They’re tired, but calm. ]

I know grief like that doesn’t stop at legend. [ You can hear it in her wails, feel it in your bones. ] Grief like that makes spirits dangerous. I’ve seen it before.

Come on. [ He turns slightly, still listening. ] We should move before she notices us standing still.

[maritorious]

[She hates the crying- it breaks into her ears no matter how she tries to shut it out, and rends her heart from her chest. She can feel the sorrow deep in her bones- Castiel is right.

And even if his words didn't ring true, the look in his eyes makes her want to trust him. She nods.]

I'll follow you. [Nancy immediately shifts to pick up her skirts, to rise to the balls of her feet so the heel of her boots don't hit the ground when she walks.]

[nuntius]

[ He eases back, away from the corner he'd been peeking around, turning, putting his back to the scene, working to block out the sound. He's tired of this maze, of its twists and turns, surprises lurking in the dark. ]

What is your name? [ Quiet, small talk - distract from the noise that slowly begins to fade the farther they move. ]

[maritorious]

[There's a strange intensity to the man she walks beside, and it makes her want to ask him a thousand questions, but she keeps quiet. Best not to disturb anything else around here.

But when he asks a question, she's happy to respond,] Mrs. Nancy Sikes, [She tells him] And yours, sir?

[nuntius]

[ A very nice way to say he's weird, Nancy. ]

My name is Castiel. [ He glances over, and because it will eventually come up, it always does and has numerous times here so far- ] I'm an Angel of the Lord.

[maritorious]

[She is nothing if not (mostly) polite]

Lovely to meet you, Mr. Castie-- [and then he drops that bombshell.] I beg your pardon? First I meet vampires, and now there are Angels here? Like an actual Angel that works for God?

[nuntius]

Yes.

[ He tilts his head. ]

I was a soldier. A messenger at times, but I was created to be in the holy host.