Sample RP: Gabriel was at the crucifixion- a lot of angels were, actually. Heck, it was a lot like angel Woodstock, except it wasn't much of a party. That was after he left, so he spent the entire time standing in a corner like that awkward girl who got dragged to a dance she never wanted to go to, hoping no one notices her and she can pass out of the party in peace. The last thing the crucifixion needed was a disobedient archangel turning into Carrie at the prom on the whole family. For the most part, he succeeded. Anafiel, of course, could find him across the universe and back if she wanted to and wouldn't be bothered to stay away if he asked her to.
Everyone and their brother claims to have a splinter from the cross that Jesus was crucified on, but fewer people claim they have the splintered remains of the Lance of Longinus, although Gabriel has, in fact, shoved it in the face of a few dickhead historians who tried to pass off their little sticks as pieces of one of the holiest items in the whole of history. The location of the true Lance is a secret kept by the highest order of angels and Gabriel just happens to be one of them, through a series of circumstances that he wouldn't explain no matter how many times he was asked.
He keeps his secrets well.
Outside the bar, Gabriel paces in furious circles, while Castiel stands unmoving and unblinking, although his eyes follow every step Gabriel takes. It's unnerving and, eventually, Gabriel pivots on his heels to face his younger brother. "You're distracting me."
Castiel looks befuddled, which isn't much of a change. His head tilts slightly to the side. "From what?"
Gabriel's answer isn't much of one. He flails a hand in broad circles. "You're staring. Do you ever blink? You've been in that vessel for... What? Two years now. You don't even know how the eyelids work."
"We don't have time-"
Gabriel makes a pfft sound to cut Castiel off before he can finish that sentence. Time is relative and whatever Blues Brothers- inspired mission his kid brother's on doesn't exactly make him want to bounce up and down like a kid on Christmas morning. He's in no hurry, except to get it all over with, and no one wants to listen to his plan, even if it's the only plan that'll diminish casualties on all sides. But noo, everyone's gotta get a stick up their asses, because Mike and Lucy's prom dresses are, apparently, popular members of society.
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16
Date: 2011-02-09 07:10 pm (UTC)Everyone and their brother claims to have a splinter from the cross that Jesus was crucified on, but fewer people claim they have the splintered remains of the Lance of Longinus, although Gabriel has, in fact, shoved it in the face of a few dickhead historians who tried to pass off their little sticks as pieces of one of the holiest items in the whole of history. The location of the true Lance is a secret kept by the highest order of angels and Gabriel just happens to be one of them, through a series of circumstances that he wouldn't explain no matter how many times he was asked.
He keeps his secrets well.
Outside the bar, Gabriel paces in furious circles, while Castiel stands unmoving and unblinking, although his eyes follow every step Gabriel takes. It's unnerving and, eventually, Gabriel pivots on his heels to face his younger brother. "You're distracting me."
Castiel looks befuddled, which isn't much of a change. His head tilts slightly to the side. "From what?"
Gabriel's answer isn't much of one. He flails a hand in broad circles. "You're staring. Do you ever blink? You've been in that vessel for... What? Two years now. You don't even know how the eyelids work."
"We don't have time-"
Gabriel makes a pfft sound to cut Castiel off before he can finish that sentence. Time is relative and whatever Blues Brothers- inspired mission his kid brother's on doesn't exactly make him want to bounce up and down like a kid on Christmas morning. He's in no hurry, except to get it all over with, and no one wants to listen to his plan, even if it's the only plan that'll diminish casualties on all sides. But noo, everyone's gotta get a stick up their asses, because Mike and Lucy's prom dresses are, apparently, popular members of society.
Whatever.