Who: Castiel, Elena Gilbert What: Cas was just curious about the crowd, but he’s not so sure he likes it this time… When: Sunday Afternoon, September 24 Where: The protest at Centurion Square Status: Ongoing/Closed Warnings: angelic equivalent of a panic attack? More tbd!
Cas kept moving through the crowd. It seemed louder than it should, even given its size, but Castiel thought perhaps that might be because so many of the people here simply wanted loudly. They didn't even have to open her mouths and he was being crushed by the amount of longing in their thoughts. He felt bad for them; he knew how it felt to pray for assistance and for nobody to answer.
With as many people as were here, he couldn’t take more than a step without being jostled or jostling someone else. The contact didn't bother him so much, but the buzz of excitement, of tentative daring, that caught at him like thorn bushes, demanding attention. There was defiance in their voices, people speaking openly of wanting to go home, of informed consent, of the right to change their decisions.
Castiel didn’t really speak with anyone directly – he wouldn’t have known what to say. Instead he merely listened to the range of opinions and feelings being let out. Many were sad or homesick; many of them were angry. Throughout the crowd were huddles of people whispering to each other in aggressive, mutinous tones. Cas shied away from those as best he could in the small sea of people. He didn’t want trouble; he’d only wanted to see what was going on.