Yes, of course. Cassiel, Caphziel, Kasiel if you want to go back to Byzantine times. Angel of Saturn, mentioned in the Heptameron and Book of Honorius.
[He also totally doesn't believe you.]
That-- okay, yes, that it probably does. But it kind of kills the dramatic and vaguely threatening mood you seem to be going for. [That's not entirely true but Flynn will not admit he's intimidated by Lawrence of Arby's over here.]
Rendering our names in human speech has always been difficult. Any of those are acceptable to me. [ His seems to give them more trouble than most, but he's not terribly picky. There's only so much you can expect when asking a creature with only one mouth to speak a name meant for four. ]
I wasn't trying to be threatening. [ He puts the tablet down for a moment, giving Flynn an excellent shot of the ceiling and a moment of rustling cloth noises before he picks it up again, his face now fully visible. He's still wearing the hat, though. If it made him seem less intimidating then it must be helpful, right? ] I'm sorry. Is this better?
Much better, thank you. [The cap helps. A little. But he's obviously a crazy person, so it's really all the same what he's wearing, right?] I wasn't feeling threatened, by the way. Just putting it out there.
[SO, okay, after this very long and difficult day he's now dealing with this.]
Aren't you supposed to have a beard and ride a dragon?
[ Castiel pauses, touching his face as if to check whether or not he does, in fact, have a beard. He doesn't - despite being trapped in an apocalyptic winterscape for months at this point all he's managed to accrue is some impressive stubble. ]
The Book of Honorius was composed around... [ He pauses, doing some quick mental math. ] The thirteenth century by the Gregorian calendar. The Vessel I inhabited at the time had a beard. His appearance may have left an impression upon the author. I've never ridden a dragon, though. They're temperamental, and much slower than angels in all regards. Whoever wrote that down must have been confused.
We're getting sidetracked. Do you or do you not know the Language of the Birds?
[Flynn perks up, eyebrows climbing as he listens to his explanations.] I disagree, this actually just got interesting.
[Because even if this Castiel is a crazy person, he is obviously a very scholarly crazy person. If asked, Flynn probably wouldn't be able to say why exactly he draws the line at actual angels, he just does. After everything he's learned today, he needs something he can be in denial about - and he knows too much magic for it to be the town.]
Yes, I know the Language of the Birds. [He frowns.] I suppose an angel would find that interesting.
We thought all man-made records of that time had been lost. [ In fact, he distinctly remembers being instructed along with many of his peers to gather what few scraps remained after the tower of Babel had been struck down and hide them away where no human would ever find them. Clearly someone missed one. Or hid it from the rest of Heaven instead.
[ Despite all of this, Castiel is much more curious about what Flynn knows than he is upset about the mistake. Mass destruction of writing had never sat well with him anyway. ]
Well... not in my world. We had a book written in it. I was tasked with translating it.
[Now that they're settling into the conversation and he probably won't go back to his work anytime soon Flynn props up the tablet and sits with his back against the wall (not one with evil eyes though), drawing in one leg to his chest.]
Did it in a little over seven hours. [He will never tire of pointing that out.] What do you mean by vessel?
Right. It could be that you come from a different world than the one I presided over. [ That's still unbearably surreal for him to think about, but it is a possibility. At least with Enoch there's a clear difference that he can remind himself of whenever things get confusing.
[ He hesitates slightly before answering Flynn's question, but it's more out of habit than anything else. This isn't exactly a secret anymore, after all. It wasn't really ever one in the first place. ]
The angelic form and voice is too much for most mortals to safely bear. In order to interact with humankind, we ask certain, special people to lend us their bodies so that we may act through them without the risk of harming others.
[ Castiel gestures to himself, or, more accurately, to the body he currently occupies. ]
This is Jimmy Novak. He was acting as my Vessel when we arrived here in Norfinbury, and now we... seem to be stuck together.
[That... may very well be and it comes with the uncomfortable realization that what this guy is telling him may be the truth. For his world, at least. But Flynn still can't bring himself to fully buy it because that would mean there is at least a chance angels could be real in his universe, too.
He's being a bit obtuse on purpose. It's a defense mechanism, really, because he should know better. Never mind there being actual judeo-christian artifacts at the Library, like the Holy Grail and Noah's freaking Ark, but.]
Hi, Jimmy. [He waves a little awkwardly at the screen. Really, what DO you say to that?]
So, okay, let's say I'm buying all this. Am I in trouble for knowing the Language of the Birds? Are you coming after me with a flaming sword or something?
No. There are more important things to worry about in this place. And even if there weren't, you may be out of my jurisdiction. For all I know it could be that that book was preserved in the world you came from just for you, or for whatever mission you serve.
[ It wouldn't be the strangest deviation from everything he's ever known that he's heard of in this place. ]
I just want to know what was in it? What survived those thousands of years?
Flynn chews the inside of his lip for a moment there, pondering the situation. It's pretty clear that after his rather disastrous introduction everyone can read up on him being more than just a regular librarian. Obviously the Language of the Bird thing is out in the open, too. And the guy is right, there are more important things at stake here and everyone seems to be more preoccupied with the task at hand.
Besides, he is actually curious how "Castiel" might react.]
It was filled with riddled instructions. It led me to the Spear of Destiny.
They... left the Spear of Destiny on Earth. [ Okay. Castiel's feelings on his own iteration of the Heavenly Sphere is admittedly a little bit mixed at this point, but this is just starting to sound like incompetence on their part. ]
Was there something you were meant to do with it? [ He's mentally going over every single prophecy he can think of that might be relevant. There are a lot of them. He has no idea which one, if any, Flynn might have found himself caught up in. ]
[And, because Cas seems to feel quite strongly about this,] No, I'm just guarding it. Making sure nobody else ever uses it. You know, make themselves all powerful, destroy the world, that kind of thing.
[He's had a bad day and making himself sound cool makes himself feel better. Is he doing it right? He's pointing to himself.] Good guy.
Well, it's good that someone's looking after it. [ The ratio of sarcasm to sincerity in that comment is entirely unclear, Castiel's affect being as deadpan as it is. ]
There were organizations that served similar purposes in the world I presided over. Does the name "Men of Letters" mean anything to you?
No, never heard of them. [But he frowns, because 'Men of Letters' could be an alternate translation of Librarian, could it not? Then again, there is only one Librarian at each given time.
A secret society of scholars who dedicated their lives to gathering knowledge of the supernatural, for the purposes of cataloging it as well as hiding it away from an unknowing public. At times they saw themselves as protectors of the world too, but they often caused just as much harm as they did good.
[ His tone isn't scolding here - he's not trying to impress any point on Flynn. To him it's just a statement of fact, and no more. ]
Heaven never paid them much attention until one of their number very nearly worked out how to rid demons of their corruption. We started watching them closely after that.
[That... sounds a lot like what the Library does, and Flynn shifts uneasily in his place. Except the last bit, because they are actually doing a great job. He thinks. No, he knows. Very different from these Lettermen, obviously.]
What's so bad about that? Getting rid of corruption, isn't that a good thing?
It's not bad, it's just something that we ourselves aren't capable of. We wanted to watch their progress.
[ Being able to cure demons and convert them back into human souls would have been revolutionary. It would have changed everything. ]
Unfortunately another project of theirs drew the attention of several high-ranking demons at around the same time. Everyone who knew the cure was wiped out, as were many of their families and a number of their unrelated friends.
Collateral damage has a tendency to follow organizations like theirs.
[And somewhat typical, because it's always the same story, isn't it? Battle the forces of evil and eventually your life gets turned into a depressing series of death and loss. At least Flynn managed to keep his family out of it. To a degree.
Abruptly:] Can you fly?
[Priorities. Maybe a distraction. But he really does want to know.]
There's only so far a man's intentions can take him.
[ It's one of the greatest tragedies of the world, if you ask Castiel. He's seen it play out too many times to count. ]
And no, not here. Normally I can, but... [ There's a brief flicker of light and the shadow of two broad, feathered wings appear silhouetted on the wall behind Castiel. They flap a few times, and the microphone picks up a rushing of air before they disappear again. ] Not here. This place has a way of sealing away any abilities it deems unnatural. Most of mine included.
[Flynn winces at the sudden display of... general creepiness, because this is creepy in the context of a) middle of the night, b) creepy eyes everywhere and c) this whole thing getting really hard not to buy into now, at least a little bit.]
That's unfortunate. [You can see it working behind his face.] Can you speak the Language of the Birds?
[ On some level Castiel is actually fairly pleased by the reaction. He's never been one for terrifying mortals with his presence like some of his siblings, but some degree of recognition for what he is is still appreciated.
When Flynn asks, he switches obligingly to the language in question. ]
Yes. All of us were required to learn it, along with every human language that followed. It's been some time since I last used it, though.
[Flynn listens, a look of wonder and eager focus on his face because he has only ever come across the language in writing. He recognizes most of it, as he's had theories on how to pronounce the words, but he still replays the message several times before he attempts to respond.]
I hear. Yes. Its head never thought life, by the river?
[... brb switching to writing.
It's similar to his conversations in Akkadian, stilted and bookish and very, very archaic. Some of the pre- and affixes don't make sense but overall, it's solid.]
The sounds are novel, it was the scripture I partook. Please voice the music of language, my ears long for it.
[Oh my God, he's real life, real time talking the Language of the Birds here, how cool is that? Why is there nobody to share and acknowledge just how amazing and cool this is? Flynn looks around but there's nothing except the rows and rows of Prophet's eyes.
Whatever. Flynn beckons to them. Talking the Language of the Birds here, with an Angel of the Lord, like, can you believe it??]
It is helpful. [He really hopes he reverts the inversion correctly, but he's got a good feeling about this.] It is loved. You speak words of truth. The loss is a deep abyss of tears and wailing.
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[He also totally doesn't believe you.]
That-- okay, yes, that it probably does. But it kind of kills the dramatic and vaguely threatening mood you seem to be going for. [That's not entirely true but Flynn will not admit he's intimidated by Lawrence of Arby's over here.]
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I wasn't trying to be threatening. [ He puts the tablet down for a moment, giving Flynn an excellent shot of the ceiling and a moment of rustling cloth noises before he picks it up again, his face now fully visible. He's still wearing the hat, though. If it made him seem less intimidating then it must be helpful, right? ] I'm sorry. Is this better?
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[SO, okay, after this very long and difficult day he's now dealing with this.]
Aren't you supposed to have a beard and ride a dragon?
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The Book of Honorius was composed around... [ He pauses, doing some quick mental math. ] The thirteenth century by the Gregorian calendar. The Vessel I inhabited at the time had a beard. His appearance may have left an impression upon the author. I've never ridden a dragon, though. They're temperamental, and much slower than angels in all regards. Whoever wrote that down must have been confused.
We're getting sidetracked. Do you or do you not know the Language of the Birds?
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[Because even if this Castiel is a crazy person, he is obviously a very scholarly crazy person. If asked, Flynn probably wouldn't be able to say why exactly he draws the line at actual angels, he just does. After everything he's learned today, he needs something he can be in denial about - and he knows too much magic for it to be the town.]
Yes, I know the Language of the Birds. [He frowns.] I suppose an angel would find that interesting.
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[ Despite all of this, Castiel is much more curious about what Flynn knows than he is upset about the mistake. Mass destruction of writing had never sat well with him anyway. ]
What did you find?
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[Now that they're settling into the conversation and he probably won't go back to his work anytime soon Flynn props up the tablet and sits with his back against the wall (not one with evil eyes though), drawing in one leg to his chest.]
Did it in a little over seven hours. [He will never tire of pointing that out.] What do you mean by vessel?
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[ He hesitates slightly before answering Flynn's question, but it's more out of habit than anything else. This isn't exactly a secret anymore, after all. It wasn't really ever one in the first place. ]
The angelic form and voice is too much for most mortals to safely bear. In order to interact with humankind, we ask certain, special people to lend us their bodies so that we may act through them without the risk of harming others.
[ Castiel gestures to himself, or, more accurately, to the body he currently occupies. ]
This is Jimmy Novak. He was acting as my Vessel when we arrived here in Norfinbury, and now we... seem to be stuck together.
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He's being a bit obtuse on purpose. It's a defense mechanism, really, because he should know better. Never mind there being actual judeo-christian artifacts at the Library, like the Holy Grail and Noah's freaking Ark, but.]
Hi, Jimmy. [He waves a little awkwardly at the screen. Really, what DO you say to that?]
So, okay, let's say I'm buying all this. Am I in trouble for knowing the Language of the Birds? Are you coming after me with a flaming sword or something?
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[ It wouldn't be the strangest deviation from everything he's ever known that he's heard of in this place. ]
I just want to know what was in it? What survived those thousands of years?
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Flynn chews the inside of his lip for a moment there, pondering the situation. It's pretty clear that after his rather disastrous introduction everyone can read up on him being more than just a regular librarian. Obviously the Language of the Bird thing is out in the open, too. And the guy is right, there are more important things at stake here and everyone seems to be more preoccupied with the task at hand.
Besides, he is actually curious how "Castiel" might react.]
It was filled with riddled instructions. It led me to the Spear of Destiny.
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Was there something you were meant to do with it? [ He's mentally going over every single prophecy he can think of that might be relevant. There are a lot of them. He has no idea which one, if any, Flynn might have found himself caught up in. ]
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[And, because Cas seems to feel quite strongly about this,] No, I'm just guarding it. Making sure nobody else ever uses it. You know, make themselves all powerful, destroy the world, that kind of thing.
[He's had a bad day and making himself sound cool makes himself feel better. Is he doing it right? He's pointing to himself.] Good guy.
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There were organizations that served similar purposes in the world I presided over. Does the name "Men of Letters" mean anything to you?
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Still...]
What are they?
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[ His tone isn't scolding here - he's not trying to impress any point on Flynn. To him it's just a statement of fact, and no more. ]
Heaven never paid them much attention until one of their number very nearly worked out how to rid demons of their corruption. We started watching them closely after that.
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What's so bad about that? Getting rid of corruption, isn't that a good thing?
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[ Being able to cure demons and convert them back into human souls would have been revolutionary. It would have changed everything. ]
Unfortunately another project of theirs drew the attention of several high-ranking demons at around the same time. Everyone who knew the cure was wiped out, as were many of their families and a number of their unrelated friends.
Collateral damage has a tendency to follow organizations like theirs.
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[And somewhat typical, because it's always the same story, isn't it? Battle the forces of evil and eventually your life gets turned into a depressing series of death and loss. At least Flynn managed to keep his family out of it. To a degree.
Abruptly:] Can you fly?
[Priorities. Maybe a distraction. But he really does want to know.]
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[ It's one of the greatest tragedies of the world, if you ask Castiel. He's seen it play out too many times to count. ]
And no, not here. Normally I can, but... [ There's a brief flicker of light and the shadow of two broad, feathered wings appear silhouetted on the wall behind Castiel. They flap a few times, and the microphone picks up a rushing of air before they disappear again. ] Not here. This place has a way of sealing away any abilities it deems unnatural. Most of mine included.
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[Flynn winces at the sudden display of... general creepiness, because this is creepy in the context of a) middle of the night, b) creepy eyes everywhere and c) this whole thing getting really hard not to buy into now, at least a little bit.]
That's unfortunate. [You can see it working behind his face.] Can you speak the Language of the Birds?
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When Flynn asks, he switches obligingly to the language in question. ]
Yes. All of us were required to learn it, along with every human language that followed. It's been some time since I last used it, though.
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I hear. Yes. Its head never thought life, by the river?
[... brb switching to writing.
It's similar to his conversations in Akkadian, stilted and bookish and very, very archaic. Some of the pre- and affixes don't make sense but overall, it's solid.]
The sounds are novel, it was the scripture I partook. Please voice the music of language, my ears long for it.
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Is that helpful? It's a great tragedy when languages die out. Often they're not the only thing that's lost in the process.
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Whatever. Flynn beckons to them. Talking the Language of the Birds here, with an Angel of the Lord, like, can you believe it??]
It is helpful. [He really hopes he reverts the inversion correctly, but he's got a good feeling about this.] It is loved. You speak words of truth. The loss is a deep abyss of tears and wailing.
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