Username: 
Password:    
Remember Me

Search by :  Username E-mail Region Interest AOL IM ICQ Number Yahoo! ID MSN Username Jabber

of castiel ♃ (castieli) wrote in silverage,

Castiel's position was a strange one—a very strange one. Even for an angel, it was not every day that one found oneself, quite suddenly and inexplicably, no longer oneself as one remembered it to be only yesterday. The vessel that contained his celestial essence had changed without so much as a polite hello. Not to speak of the essence itself, which was plainly from a different time, though when, precisely, could not be said.

There were Travellers from the future, yes, some even from alternate futures or from the opposite direction entirely in the linear representation of time. But none, so far as he had seen, shared his predicament. Was he from the future or was he not? If he was, then how was it that he could recall yesterday as it had been and nothing of his own time?

Whilst pondering these thoughts, he felt the Good Samaritan at his elbow. His thoughts were already long gone from the drunk, so it was a moment before he caught on to the fact that the mediator was complimenting him on a job well done. "We do not negotiate," was the content of a very blunt press release. His face remained ever inscrutable without a wink of movement staining it.