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beyondtherift, but far in the future. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
starryeyed_cass is used with permission and love. Everyone else is referenced with love and not binding on any of the muses, but are people important to Castiel, therefore worth mentioning.]
It takes a long time for an angel to lose his grace.
One would expect it to happen faster, in a world with no Heaven, but that is a way in which the Rifts work to his favor. One of them, somewhere, keeps him tethered to his world, to his Heaven, and feeds his abilities, but slowly, whatever that Rift is, it starts to close, and Castiel’s power goes with it, slowly, piece by piece. He doesn’t feel it at first, but as the years pass and time goes by, he slowly gets weaker and weaker. He still doesn’t age, but at the same time, he progressively gets a bit more … human.
Ten years pass, twenty, thirty—he sees fifty years of Chicago’s twists and changes. He watches friends come and go, live, die, disappear, but all the while he stays the same—a constant, unmoving, unchangeable force through it all. He doesn’t become more, not in any sense that he can understand—he feels himself becoming less every day, but he’s there, and that, at least, never changes.
( *** )
1028 words
beyondtherift, but far in the future. starryeyed_cass is used with permission and love. Everyone else is referenced with love and not binding on any of the muses, but are people important to Castiel, therefore worth mentioning.]It takes a long time for an angel to lose his grace.
One would expect it to happen faster, in a world with no Heaven, but that is a way in which the Rifts work to his favor. One of them, somewhere, keeps him tethered to his world, to his Heaven, and feeds his abilities, but slowly, whatever that Rift is, it starts to close, and Castiel’s power goes with it, slowly, piece by piece. He doesn’t feel it at first, but as the years pass and time goes by, he slowly gets weaker and weaker. He still doesn’t age, but at the same time, he progressively gets a bit more … human.
Ten years pass, twenty, thirty—he sees fifty years of Chicago’s twists and changes. He watches friends come and go, live, die, disappear, but all the while he stays the same—a constant, unmoving, unchangeable force through it all. He doesn’t become more, not in any sense that he can understand—he feels himself becoming less every day, but he’s there, and that, at least, never changes.
( *** )
1028 words
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