[There's the perceptible feeling of movements, crossing over, maybe the kind of thing human souls feel before their ghostdom. He's not a master of the supernatural, all right? He gets holy ghosts, that's about it.
He feels his fractured, broken Grace reforming. Now that. That he recognizes; pieces once stripped made whole again. They hit earth and he stretches; not only does he fill the warehouse (almost looks familiar, this warehouse) but he moves out of it, past these walls to his full height, his little human vessel only rolling his shoulders with a familiar grin on his face. Whole. This is all about being alive, whole and himself. What the hell, man. There's nothing freaking better. His wings unfurl, hot and burning the air around them, and the familiar warmth boils in his fingers, under his human skin and flesh and bone.
Gabriel hops to his brother and pulls him to his feet with a strong grip, testing Castiel's Grace with his own with a gentle brush. It's still there, not broken. A little weak. Well, he can fix that.
Proverbial holy tape, and Castiel's Grace is all patched up. The blood flows back in his vessel, the wounds gone. Call it a thank you.]
You are one severely moronic angel, Castiel. No wonder you run with the Winchesters.
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He feels his fractured, broken Grace reforming. Now that. That he recognizes; pieces once stripped made whole again. They hit earth and he stretches; not only does he fill the warehouse (almost looks familiar, this warehouse) but he moves out of it, past these walls to his full height, his little human vessel only rolling his shoulders with a familiar grin on his face. Whole. This is all about being alive, whole and himself. What the hell, man. There's nothing freaking better. His wings unfurl, hot and burning the air around them, and the familiar warmth boils in his fingers, under his human skin and flesh and bone.
Gabriel hops to his brother and pulls him to his feet with a strong grip, testing Castiel's Grace with his own with a gentle brush. It's still there, not broken. A little weak. Well, he can fix that.
Proverbial holy tape, and Castiel's Grace is all patched up. The blood flows back in his vessel, the wounds gone. Call it a thank you.]
You are one severely moronic angel, Castiel. No wonder you run with the Winchesters.