When Castiel came to, his first thought wasn't so much a thought as a realization that his arm still ached. In fact, the grand majority of him ached, and while his head seemed to have finally let up on that insistent pounding, the rest of his body seemed to be suffering as a result.
It was to the point that his muscles seemed to protest as he sat up out of bed, even though he was favoring his uninjured arm. As much as his vessel seemed to want to give out on him, however, Castiel wasn't willing to allow that. He lifted up his shirtsleeve to see that his wound had been bandaged. It seemed that Lingormr's quick stitching job had done the trick.
Another debt owed, and at this point he wasn't certain how to repay it. Lingormr was free to call on him at any time that he was required, and perhaps for now that was good enough. Castiel stood up, glancing toward the intercom system when Landel mentioned that they were allowed to ask the nurses for medicine if needed.
He had no idea if there was anything that could actually relieve the pain he was in, and for all he knew giving into that suggestion would only make things worse. It would be like accepting a deal from a demon and not expecting some sort of catch. For now, he endeavored to bear it.
As usual for Sundays here, he was given a choice of where to go for the first shift, and also as usual, he chose the chapel, not bothering to examine too closely his reasons for why. The room was still on the empty side when he reached it, and Castiel soaked in the silence, stepping forward to the front of the room and settling into a pew on the left side.
He started to run through the things he would need to do that day. He'd need to contact Lingormr and Soma, ask after Sam and Dean again, and work toward reversing this illness before it reached some sort of critical point. Castiel's gaze dipped down to his hand, where the redness that had started there had now spread up past his wrist. There was no way to hide that today.
no subject
It was to the point that his muscles seemed to protest as he sat up out of bed, even though he was favoring his uninjured arm. As much as his vessel seemed to want to give out on him, however, Castiel wasn't willing to allow that. He lifted up his shirtsleeve to see that his wound had been bandaged. It seemed that Lingormr's quick stitching job had done the trick.
Another debt owed, and at this point he wasn't certain how to repay it. Lingormr was free to call on him at any time that he was required, and perhaps for now that was good enough. Castiel stood up, glancing toward the intercom system when Landel mentioned that they were allowed to ask the nurses for medicine if needed.
He had no idea if there was anything that could actually relieve the pain he was in, and for all he knew giving into that suggestion would only make things worse. It would be like accepting a deal from a demon and not expecting some sort of catch. For now, he endeavored to bear it.
As usual for Sundays here, he was given a choice of where to go for the first shift, and also as usual, he chose the chapel, not bothering to examine too closely his reasons for why. The room was still on the empty side when he reached it, and Castiel soaked in the silence, stepping forward to the front of the room and settling into a pew on the left side.
He started to run through the things he would need to do that day. He'd need to contact Lingormr and Soma, ask after Sam and Dean again, and work toward reversing this illness before it reached some sort of critical point. Castiel's gaze dipped down to his hand, where the redness that had started there had now spread up past his wrist. There was no way to hide that today.
[For Kratos.]