notafuckingnut | [029] If I was a tree growing tall and green all I'd want is you to shade me and be my leaves

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[029] If I was a tree growing tall and green all I'd want is you to shade me and be my leaves

[VIDEO - (accidental) public]

[He doesn't want to be here.

That's obvious enough to anyone, receiver or no. He said yes to get the angel off his case, to make him go away, and he's here so he won't come looking for him, but that doesn't mean he wants this. He doesn't understand why he needs to, what he could possibly get out of it, and so what if he said it would be Good for him, that it would Help; he doesn't care if he graduates. Not really, not right now anyway. Not if you can leave without it, not if people that are supposed to matter don't stick around. He's defeated, and miserable, and apathetic, and abandoned, and PISSED, all roiling together in an incomprehensible and disjointed mess, the whole thing colored with a sense of wrongness that creeps at the edges of awareness and slips away just out of reach under closer scrutiny, and he feels like he's going to split apart at the seams but he can't articulate WHY.]

Why do you need to work in a greenhouse anyway, doesn't it all just grow? It's not like you need to help it with that, it can do it on its own.

[SPAM for Castiel]

[Knock knock on the greenhouse door; you're going to have to let him in.]

[A/N: Richie is completely affected because pshh sticking to the original plan, what's that? GIVE HIM YOUR FEELS.]

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Of course not. [The sarcasm is now more easily detected than it usually would be.]

You wanna go?

...go where? [And from this, there is genuine confusion at the phrasing, something that would be unfamiliar to someone from Krynn.]

[...What. Confusion right back, irritation put on hold for a few seconds, at least. Who doesn't know what that means?]

...Anywhere. You call it.

...I can already go anywhere on the Barge that you can, and I don't want to go anywhere with you regardless.

[More confusion. What was Richie going on about now?]

...No. You're missing the point.

[Frustration; stop ruining his need to stab you in the gut or shoot you in the face or at LEAST break your nose with your inability to figure out where he's going with this. It's not rocket surgery, after all.]

...there was a point?

Yeah. I'm not fucking crazy.

Yes, you said that already. [Raistlin begins giving off a bit of irritation now, feeling frustrated at how it either goes in circles or just stops making any sense.]

Well when you keep saying I am, I'm not just gonna stand by and take it.

I'm not doing anything.

[Jim replies, shortly, and sharply. The irritation in his tone is evident, but still controlled, unlike the feelings of rage he's trying to feed. He focuses on past memories, on the worst days of his life, on unforgivable things, and he feeds his own anger until--

Until he's sick at himself for even bothering. Richie might be driven out of control by all of this, but only at the cost of Jim's own civility.]

Perhaps, then, you shouldn't act the part. I've been called crazy myself, but I certainly wouldn't prove people correct by making vague statements about wanting to go...somewhere.

[He needs him to stop, needs him to get out, needs him to pay, and he's trying to get around the angel but he just seems designed to be everywhere he's trying to move, and he shoves at him, a snarl on his lips--

And then it's like hitting a brick wall. Helpless and sick and he stumbles back, confused, and the rest of it's still there but it's secondary. He glances from angel to the man behind him and back, and for a moment it looks like he's going to sock one or the both of them, but he just takes another step back.]

Fine. Whatever. I'm done, okay?

I'm done.

[He looks over at Jim again - there's tendrils of irritation there, and suspicion, accompanying his slightly narrowed eyes, but he doesn't move or otherwise attend to Jim. He barely notices Richie crashing into him, but when he realizes the man has taken a step back, he forces confidence and offers drops his hands.]

Where would you like to go on the ship? I can take you there.

[Profit's irrelevant at this point, Richie barely notices him leave around his need to just not.be.there. His natural inclination's to lash out, to stop it himself, but he can't, the need's not there, and even if it were there's a wall of a...man-shaped thing in the way. Fingers twitch at his sides, eyes darting around to try to find a solution, and he finally shrugs. It doesn't matter, anywhere's as good as anywhere else; tension strung too tight finally snapped, and now he's just...overwhelmed by it all. Irritable because he feels like he's just spent the past hour as a human ping pong ball, but without the violent intentions to really do anything about it.]

Doesn't matter. Anywhere.

Not here.

Maybe you don't want your hands to get dirty?

When dealing with plants themselves, rather than the dirt, gloves can be important because your hands have skin oils that are bad for the leaves and buds.

...Uh huh.

[All the doubtful. They're PLANTS.]

[Castiel reaches out for Richie and suddenly they're not there. They're in Richie's room. Flying probably isn't fun - more like being jerked roughly by something deep in your chest, fron one place to another. But without Jim's influence, Castiel is neutral, calm and concerned. He looks into Richie's eyes, trying to gauge his mood.]

Are you all right?

[He rubs at the center of his chest, not that it helps really, and Castiel might be trying to look him in the eyes, but he's not really being helpful for it. He's back to empty though, if still agitated, but it's a tired kind of agitated.]

...What did you just do?

I flew. All angels are capable of doing so. I hope it wasn't too unpleasant an experience from you - I've heard that can sometimes be the case for humans.

No. That wasn't flying, that was like...teleporting.

Couldn't we have just walked? I would've been fine with that.

It's flying. Like teleporting, I guess.

We can walk next time. I figured you'd rather move quicker than that.

No, flying involves wings. Teleporting...is teleporting, you just move. They're completely different.

[He starts pacing, back and forth across the small space, raising a hand absently to smooth his bangs.

No, wait. No pacing. Sit quietly and wait. So it's over to the bed, which he drops onto and just kind of watches the angel.

A moment or so of silence, then:]

So...do I get my pen back, or...?

I do have wings, and I used them. Human senses are simply too dull to see them.

You can have it back, if you promise not to stab anyone with it. If you break your promise, I'll be very upset.

...Well I wasn't trying to stab you...

[Because that makes it better, apparently.]

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