deercountry | And though scary is exciting...

Entry tags:

And though scary is exciting...

Who: Ariadne, Castiel, and Evelyn
What: Tea and conspiracy theories
When: Backdated slightly to mid-September, following Sam Winchester's visit to the orchard
Where: Ariadne's home, in the Willful Machine

Content Warnings: Discussion of sex.

The second floor of Ariadne's home was exactly as it had been in Deerington. Complete with a kitchen she'd never used. Even the dust on the cooking surfaces seemed the same. Which was a good thing. Ariadne was a menace in the kitchen and had been rightly banned from the kitchens back at North Castle.

In her defense, it had only been a small fire.

Fortunately, there was one singular ability that Ariadne did possess when it came to the culinary arts and that was the ability to boil water. Even, so she watched the teapot like a hawk, prepared at any second to douse unexpected flames. There were none. But Ariadne credited that mostly to her vigilance. Soon enough she had a boiling pot and filled it with herbs, preparing tea the way she'd learned back in Valeria, when tea suddenly and unexpectedly entered her life. Once she put out the flames on the stove, she assembled three mismatched cups and set them out on her little table, along with a bowl of fresh fruit from her orchard and some cinnamon bark.

It occurred to her that she'd never really had guests before. Oh, she'd had Orpheus over on occasion. Or Dean once or twice when she was picking up supplies. But this was different somehow. She had invited people over, offered hospitality. And she realized that she didn't entirely know how to do that, especially not for earthlings.

Well, she could only hope they'd be forgiving. And much more focused on the problem at hand. The problem being that something was strangely amiss with Sam Winchester.

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Willful Machine isn't a district that Cas frequents, and so he feels a little out of place walking through the bustling city corner of shops and canals. Once he reaches Ariadne's shop, though, it feels immediately more familiar. Cas takes his time exploring the little orchard and its ring of trees, admiring the growth and reading the names on the plaques. It's exactly the kind of quiet slice of nature Castiel was anticipating, and isn't that incredible? Something living up his expectations. Wild.

Anyway, Cas only allows himself to linger for so long. Ariadne is probably waiting by now, and so he texts her a warning that he's arrived, and once granted permission, takes a quick glance around the shop before making his way upstairs.

"Ariadne?" He greets loudly, because in his experience, it's better to be loud about entrances. Even civilians seem to like that. And treat people as you'd like to be treated. He'd learned that since being a, well, people.

There's the sight and smell of fresh herbs being brewed into fragrant tea and a general feeling of welcoming, but Cas lingers in the doorway, all the same and calls from a suitable non-threatening distance, "May I come in?"

Evelyn's humble abode is in Crenshaw, but she's familiar enough with Willful Machine to be able find Ariadne's shop with little difficulty. After all, she's managed to locate her own bookstore here, and is in the process of cleaning it all up, getting it back in order for a probably not so grand reopening.

Either way, she arrives not terribly long after Castiel, coming up on him from behind, stopping when she sees his figure in the doorway. She doesn't recognize him at first, not from behind, and tugs her coat a little tighter around her before clearing her throat a little.

"Ah-- Castiel?"

She hopes. Otherwise, it's a very random man that is up the stairs in Ariadne's home.

Christ, Evelyn, watch who you're sneaking up on. You might have a gun in your face right now if Cas weren't as sedate as he is.

Luckily, he is a good level of chill, and so he only reacts with mild surprise to the soft footsteps and gentle throat-clearing from behind him. He steps out of the doorway, back to the wall as he turns towards her with a smile. "Evelyn. Fancy meeting you here."

After only a moment, his smile fades towards a more genuine expression, and he adds quietly, "It's good to see you." After everything, he means. After Deerington, and the ocean, and now... whatever's going on with her that Sam had been so vague in describing. She looks whole and healthy, a bit older but altogether just like he remembers seeing her in passing back... however long ago that was that they both shared the Winchesters' home.

Ariadne sprinted, barefoot across her floor when she heard voices at the door. The soles of her feet slapped against the hardwood in second. And in the next, she pulled the door open, looking perhaps a little flushed and flustered. Clearly, she needed more practice at this business of hosting guests.

Hopefully, she'd have the chance.

"Hello," she said, dipping into a curtsy to both of them, though she was wearing her leathers, instead of a dress. Eagerly, she stepped out of the doorway, gesturing them both inside.

That was a universal gesture, wasn't it?

She hoped so. And she desperately hoped it didn't mean something terribly rude in either of their cultures. She just hadn't spent enough time with either of them, beyond the occasional huddling in the Winchester cabin. No one had been concerned with manners there. But new town. New start. Or at least, that seemed to be the theory.

"Sir. Mistress Evelyn." Too late, she realized her mistake, but all she could do was grimace.

"It's good to see you too," she tells Castiel, earnestly, because it has been a while, and it doesn't seem like everyone made it to Trench, despite everything.

She's tired, older - she wears a wedding ring she isn't sure if she should take off or not, dirty boots from the ride over, expression wane.

"Ariadne, it's good to see you again in person," she says, offering a smile, not bothering to correct the woman, since it sort of seems like she's already a bit abashed. "This is a lovely place."

That wedding ring seems to confirm that Sam wasn't lying, at least. Married, presumably with a child. Sad as fuck for Sam, but for Evelyn...? Cas is happy for her.

The open door and Ariadne's typical bounciness is an appreciated distraction, and Cas' melancholic smile widens back out to watch her courtesy without the skirt. He presses his palms together and bows back, which is probably totally inappropriate in about three different ways, but that's just more reason to do it with a smile, in Cas' opinion.

"Afternoon, m'lady," he greets Ariadne, then glances at Evelyn so that they don't accidentally collide before taking the lead and stepping through the doorway. Evelyn is right: the orchard is more Cas' style, but the upstairs apartment is charming all on its own. Following Ariadne's barefooted example, Cas toes his slippers off at the door while he does an automatic little mental map of the windows, exits, potential cover, etc, and generally does his best to blend in with the wood paneling while letting the ladies do the heavy lifting of the conversation until they get down to business.

Edited (i can prose) 2021-09-30 15:22 (UTC)

Ariadne nearly corrected Cas, insisting that she wasn't a lady. But people from Earth rarely seemed to understand the social rituals involved with bows and curtsies and she supposed he was just being polite. Anyway, there were far more important matters to discuss and she didn't want to sidetrack them with the norms of Valerian culture. Especially when she was the only one here to represent it.

With a little jerk of her head, she led the two of them over to the table.

It was a terribly low table, and although there was a small sofa beside it, the other sides were surrounded by pillows in various shades of purple and blue. Ariadne gestured to the sofa for her guests, before sitting down on one of the pillows to the side, pulling her legs into the lotus position.

She knew it was technically her responsibility to serve tea. But since she didn't have cream or sugar, she decided to let that go. Instead, she nodded to the fruit basket. "Help yourselves. It's all from the orchard." She forced herself to pause. To take a breath, before adding, "Which is actually when this whole thing began. When Sam came to visit the orchard."

So much for pleasantries.

It's a complicated situation for Evelyn, really. A husband and son, yes - both back...there, wherever that may be in relation to here, living with some alternate version of her, while she's here.

Alone.

It doesn't do to dwell though, and Evelyn is happy to trail after them, perching on the sofa and reaching to take a piece of fruit, examining it before looking up to Ariadne.

"Is that when he tried to sleep with you?"

There is enough room for two on that sofa, but why sit on furniture??? when you can sit ~~like a bisexual~~ literally anywhere else??? With a quiet thanks to Ariadne for being an excellent host, Cas grabs a nectarine from the bowl and takes a seat on one of the pillows next to Ariadne. His lotus is more like what a flower looks like when it's wilted and almost ready to fall apart: all gangly. But we're not worried about form right now, anyway. He bites into the peach immediately, ready to listen to what he's sure will be a long list of Sam's broken puzzle pieces, and instead the conversation jumps to... that.

"That doesn't sound very gentlemanly," he observes with a half-chewed mouthful, followed by wiping off the juice dripping down his chin with his sleeve because if we're talking about gentlemanly behavior, well... Cas isn't it. He learned his manners from the other Winchester brother, unfortunately. But the real problem here is obviously not that casual sex is in general unbecoming behavior, it's that it doesn't sound very like Sam.

Ariadne leaned forward to pick up her mug of tea, dropping a piece of cinnamon bark into it. She nearly took the cup by the handle, her pinkie out, as she'd been taught to do in high society. But then Cas wiped his mouth with his sleeve and she decided it didn't matter all that much.

"Well, he wasn't interested in sleeping," she said, wrapping her hands around the mug, feeling the heat flow through her. "But he did say he was interested in sex."

She took a small sip before continuing.

"He had noticed that I was having a conversation with Dean and Dean offered to teach me about sex." She shrugged, unapologetic. "I don't really know much beyond what I've seen sheep doing in the fields, back in Valeria. Anyway, he asked to come by the orchard for some fruit, but he kept bringing up the conversation he'd seen. And then he flat out asked me if I wanted to have sex with him. I found it a little bit odd--both because it seemed a bit out of nowhere and because..." She glanced over at Evelyn. "Well, I thought he'd be a bit more devoted to you. Then he told me that sex didn't have to 'mean anything.' Which also seemed odd because I'm pretty sure that for a lot of people, it means a great deal."

Evelyn is rather wishing she'd brought something akin to whiskey to dump into her tea, because this is all very frank and candid and for a woman who is from the late 1920s, sex generally isn't spoken of so frankly in polite conversation.

Alas.

She will take her own cup and take a sip, nearly choking on it at Ariadne's statement before deciding perhaps she best wait.

"It does, for many people. Not everyone, but Sam always seemed more the sort who prefers sentiment."

At least, that's certainly how she remembered their night together. But perhaps she was wrong, and in which case, she feels rather the fool, even if it was eight years ago.

Fresh cinnamon in tea is so wildly clever? Cas is still working on his nectarine, which is currently too messy to put down and grab a cuppa instead, but you better believe he's going for a mug of his own as soon as it's done. He takes another big bite with that thought in mind, grins around it as Ariadne's naiveté feels... pointedly familiar, only to feel that grin tilt towards wide-eyed and sardonic as Ariadne says, 'Dean offered to teach me about sex.'

Oh did he, now. Someone's getting a catty text chain after this. Cas stares at the dark pit in his peach like it's offensive before taking another, more vicious bite, and he forces himself to remember that this is a hate-on-Sam convention and he should stay on target.

There's a lecture here to be made on the physical and spiritual benefits of sex outside of relationships that haven't involved wedding rings or promises of monogamy, but poor Evelyn's looking a little flushed as it is. He closes his mouth, rolls his eyes a little and redirects. "There is something very wrong with Sam. He told me once that he sacrificed himself to put a stop to an angelic apocalypse. He went to Hell, and I don't believe he's returned to us... intact. Metaphysically."

Hopefully everyone in this room has heard the story of Sam's heroic deeds before, because if Cas has to explain it, he's going to need something a lot stronger than peaches and cinnamon.

There were quite a few words Ariadne needed to parse out in that statement. And she had a number of questions concerning an 'angelic apocalypse.' But those would have to wait. Along with the thousands of other questions in her life she'd been forced not to ask.

One thing was exceptionally clear:

"He's not whole?"

So she and Evelyn were right. There was something wrong with him. Although it was a bit difficult to feel triumphant about that, in the face of the larger issues.

She turned to look down the line of her shoulder at Evelyn, wondering if she had any ideas about what that meant.

"He did mention he'd been in Hell," Evelyn admits, gripping the cup in her hands a little tighter than necessary, leaning forward to put it down before she breaks it or drops it.

"Truthfully, he seemed fairly blasé about it. One would think an experience like that would be more...traumatic." She doesn't know anything about not being 'whole', or what that may implicate.

"In...ancient Egyptian culture," she says, picking that topic, because she knows it, it's familiar, "death was a temporary sort of inconvenience, I suppose you could say. When a person died, they were mummified so the soul could eventually return to the body. That's why the organs and such were preserved, as well. They believed Anubis would weigh the person's heart against the feather of Maat, and, if lighter than the feather, the soul would go with Osiris, to be reborn."

She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, frowning a little.

"Of course, if it was heavier, the goddess Ammit would eat it and destroy it." Get to the point, Evelyn.

"Anyway. My point is, if he died, if his soul was really in Hell...is it possible it was...guided or put somewhere else? Somewhere less than, er. Desirable?"

A 'more traumatic' stay in Hell is an understatement, if Cas understands Sam's situation correctly. He didn't just go to Hell: he looked himself in a cage with The Devil. It's no wonder that he's changed. Even a minute spent there would have felt like days of torture. It's a wonder he's functional at all.

But, there's no point in further worrying his friends without more i formation of what's really going on. Cas chews thoughtfully on the last bite of nectarine while Evelyne pontificates on gods. As to where Sam's soul might've been put... Cas speaks up automatically. "It may still be in Hell."

Which isn't a pleasant thought, and what could any of them possibly do about it, if that's the case? Try to send Sam home to his soul? To Hell? Beg a god for help? We all know how that goes.

Cas reaches for his mug of tea, drops the pit into it, and asks Ariande with the cup already on the way to his lips, "What kind of tea is this? Is there wormwood in it?" Please, please tell him it's laced with something.

She blinked in surprise at Cas’s question. “Uh. No. No wormwood.” Why would he imagine that she would do that to them? They were her guests. “Just a native black tea. If it’s not sweet enough, I might have some chocolate…”

She didn’t have sugar. How could she? She didn’t know how to bake.

A little line of worry formed between her eyes. Was she the worst host ever? She was certainly screwing up something awful.

Of course, there were more important things to worry about. Like Sam’s soul, or so it seemed. “Forgive me for asking, but could you two perhaps explain exactly what or where Hell is? I’m not sure I understand what we’re even guessing at.”

Castiel is also getting a strange look at the question, but her attention goes back to Ariadne pretty quickly.

"It's...the Underworld, essentially. Most mythological systems have some version of it, including Egyptian, Greek, ah-- Chinese, Christian."

"Essentially, it's the place bad people go when they die. Evil people."

That was a rude question, admittedly. Of course there was nothing good in it. So Cas is quick to dismiss, "No, this is fine," and sip his black tea while Evelyn explains, ah yes, Hell.

Christ.

Evil people, she says, and that's certainly how the mythology goes, though it's not all black and white as that in his world. Obviously Ariadne is from some other universe, and he assumes Evelyn must be as well. It'd be an awfully big coincidence if theirs were the same. But then, he and Dean, and even Sam are all here, miraculously...

Anyway, speak of the Devil, Cas feels compelled to clarify, in defense of the younger Winchester, "Evil people and lost souls. And anyone with a soul who was damned to perdition despite their good intentions. Like Sam."

Her eyes flitted to Cas, grateful for the clarification. After all, she knw that Sam wasn't an evil person. Still, there was the other half of the explanation to work out. "So Sam died?"

Which was upsetting, but within the scope of reality, she supposed.

Good people--and good fighters--died. Unfortunate. But also very true.

She continued to work it out in her head, setting down her tea so she could make a few vague gestures with her fingers, connecting the pieces as best possible. "He died and came back...broken. Missing a soul." She looked between the two of them. "I'm not terribly familiar with resurrections," she admitted. "But is that how it always happens? That when someone comes back, they come back wrong?"

A pause.

"Because I don't think that's how it worked in Deerington." When someone died, they came back. Whole. Intact.

...which had a horrifying implication for one way to fix Sam. Not that she would ever say that out loud.

Well, you know. 'Evil' is subjective really, depending on who you ask. She's spitting biblical rhetoric, not always to be taken literally.

"I've only seen someone come back twice - though he, ah, had to sort of...suck the life force out of humans to become whole again. I don't think that's what is happening with Sam, though, and I don't think it's something he plans on doing."

Hopefully. That would be dreadful to deal with again.

Oh, that's nice. Steal someone else's soul, essentially. Maybe it would work. Cas has no idea, and even less idea what Sam would or wouldn't do if he really is sans one soul. He cups both hands around his mug and sips his tea before answering, "Well, if we find any empty shells of what used to be people, and Sam returns to how he was before, then we'll know why."

What else can they do? There are rituals Cas remembers, vaguely, because he isn't wasted enough to forget them, but considering where they are, and where Sam's soul may be... Would it even work, pulling it through another dimension? And what has Sam done, really, except loosen up a bit? He didn't push Ariadne or Evelyn into anything they didn't want, seems like, and he passed back instead of hogging the joint Cas shared with him, so... Cas's eyebrows lift and he shrugs. "I don't think it'll come to that. He's still Sam."

And surely Sam, smart boy that he is, has made no bad decisions in his life, ever.

Perhaps he still was Sam, perhaps he wasn't. It as hard to tell. But Ariadne wasn't the sort of person who was comfortable sitting back to see what happened. Especially if someone could get hurt because of it.

Her concerns etched themselves out on her face.

For once, she didn't bother to obfuscate.

"Wouldn't Sam want his soul back?" she asked softly. Ariadne was sure she would, if there was a piece of her missing.

Then again, she was missing part of herself, really. And the scars on her back ached at the thought of it.

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And though scary is exciting...

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cw: casual drug references, as ev!cas does

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sorry for the delay y'all

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