Poem: "Becomes the Saving Grace"
Jun. 19th, 2021 03:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysabetwordsmithThis poem was written outside the regular prompt calls. It fills the "Trust" square in my 6-1-21 card for the Cottoncandy Bingo fest. This poem is part of the Stronger Wings arc in the Broken Angels thread of the Polychrome Heroics series. It is the second in a set of three, between "Who Puts Their Life on the Line" and "One Act of Pure Love."
This microfunded poem is being posted one verse at a time, as donations come in to cover them. The rate is $0.50/line, so $5 will reveal 10 new lines, and so forth. There is a permanent donation button on my profile page, or you can contact me for other arrangements. You can also ask me about the number of lines per verse, if you want to fund a certain number of verses.
So far sponsors include: Anthony & Shirley Barrette, DW user Librarygeek, and DW user Fuzzyred
FULLY FUNDED
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Amount donated = $173
Verses posted = 107 of 133
Amount remaining to fund fully = $50
Amount needed to fund next verse = $2.50
Amount needed to fund the verse after that = $3
[Sunday, March 6, 2016]
When Cas woke up,
a soft clicking sound
snagged his attention.
He opened his eyes to find
the bodyguard ... knitting?
Yes, knitting. The sound was
the metal needles clicking together,
and a strand of pale blue yarn
twitched its way leisurely toward
what might have been becoming
a scarf or a shawl of some sort.
As Cas watched, the yarn
darkened from pale blue
to something like seaglass.
The ball must be variegated.
"That's pretty," he murmured.
Vico looked up. "Ah, you're
awake. How do you feel?"
Ravenous. As if he hadn't
eaten in days, and the memory
of that time gnawed at him.
"I'm fine," Cas lied. "You
don't have to babysit me."
His stomach growled a betrayal.
Vico raised his eyebrows. "Well,
I'm hungry, so I'll send for enough
that you can nibble if you want."
"Thanks, I guess," Cas said.
He could feel his cheeks heating.
"It's no trouble," Vico said as he
typed something into his phone.
"I'm a bodyguard because I like
taking care of people as much
as I like punching bad guys."
Cas was suddenly, wistfully
reminded of Pug. He hoped
that the enforcer was okay.
"So, you're making a scarf?
A shawl?" he said, hoping
to change the subject.
"A scarf, for my little sister,"
Vico said. "Natale likes
colors that remind her of
the ocean, stormy or bright."
"I've never seen the ocean,"
Cas said. "I mean, not in
person, only on television."
"It's very beautiful, but
dangerous too," Vico said.
"We're in Italy, so it's never
far away. Perhaps you
can visit on another trip."
"Yeah, that would be
really nice," Cas said.
A knock at the door
announced the food.
Vico got up to fetch it.
He soon came back with
a bucket of shrimp alfredo,
another of salad, what looked
like a platter of tiny donut holes,
and a couple of very large drinks.
There were paper napkins, plates,
and flatware so they could divide
the food however they wished.
"That looks like a lot of stuff,"
Cas said, staring at it.
"Eat up," said Vico.
"Anything we don't
finish, I'll just hand
to my teleporter."
Cas couldn't help
laughing. "Oh yeah,
they're always hungry."
"You know this about
teleporters, but not
yourself?" Vico said.
"I'm not a soup,"
Cas said, shrugging.
"I ... see," Vico said. "Well,
a fight can make anyone
hungry. Just try a little
and see what you like."
Cas tried the alfredo, which
at least looked familiar.
The flavor made him
whimper with pleasure.
It was thick and creamy, but
the cheese sauce was sharp and
complicated in a way he'd never
tasted, and the shrimp -- he didn't
even know how to describe it.
"Whaff wiff theshe shrimp?"
Cas said with his mouth full.
"They're fresh from the ocean,
never frozen," Vico explained.
Cas wished all the more that
he could see the ocean, if
fresh seafood tasted like this.
Vico nudged the salad at him.
It looked like ... chopped stuff,
and smelled sharply of vinegar.
"What is this?" Cas said,
poking at the contents.
"Muffaletta salad," said Vico.
"It has olives and giardiniera,
fresh vegetables, cured meats --
it's good for you, very filling."
Curious, Cas tasted it, and
the flavors exploded over
his tongue, rich salt fat
sour savory sweet.
He shoveled in more
as fast as he could.
"Thish amazhing," he said.
"I'm glad you like it," Vico said.
"Here, I got Italian sodas. These
are strawberry-lemon. Sorry,
wine isn't a good idea right now."
"S'fine, I don't drink much,"
Cas said. He tried the soda,
which was sort of orange-ish.
It was the kind made at home
with syrup and fizzy water, only
he was pretty sure the syrup
had been made from real fruit.
The food was so good that
Cas lost himself in it, and was
surprised when his fork scraped
the bottom of the alfredo bucket.
"Yeah, I just killed the salad,"
Vico admitted. "Dessert?"
"What are those things?"
Cas said. "Donut holes?"
Vico laughed. "Strufoli.
Italian honey balls," he said.
"Oh," Cas said. "I love honey."
"Then you're in for quite a ride,"
Vico said. "Italian honey will have
whole new flavors for you, because
so many of our flowers are different."
Cas took one of the little balls. It
had nuts and colorful sprinkles
stuck to the honey coating.
The flavor was intensely sweet,
but also floral, and pine nuts
added a subtle crunch.
Cas realized that he was
making the kind of noises
that the sex workers practiced
in the living room together.
Vico just grinned at him
and claimed a few of
the honey balls himself.
Eventually they demolished
most of the pile. "You want
the last one?" Vico offered.
"Ugh, no, I'm stuffed," Cas said.
"If I eat any more, I'll explode."
"That's good," Vico said, and
ate the remaining honey ball.
Cas dropped the disposables
in the trash can, and then
sprawled on the couch.
He should get up and
find out more about Ned,
he really should, but he
just didn't have the energy.
The quiet click of knitting needles
indicated that Vico had picked up
his project, as if he had nothing
better to do than knit a scarf
while keeping an eye on Cas.
A few minutes later, Vico
suddenly looked up, as if
he'd heard something.
Cas looked up too, but
there was no sound.
There was something else,
though, warm and bright,
like sunshine flooding in.
The door opened, and
an old man stepped in,
his face covered by
a black half-mask with
silver swans across it.
Vico dropped his knitting
and started to scramble up.
"Sit, sit," the old man said,
waving a hand. "You boys
worked hard, you must be tired."
Vico sat, but he no longer lounged
with a lapful of knitting. He sat at
attention, focused on the visitor.
It was like how everyone watched
Boss Blaster, only ... more.
So Cas heaved himself into
a more upright position too.
"I am Il Dottore," the man said.
"I've already checked on Ned,
and I wanted to check on you
too, Cas, if that's all right."
"I'm fine," Cas said. "Well.
Possibly I ate too much, but
the food was just so good..."
Il Dottore chuckled. "I'm happy
to hear that. Still, I would like
to have a chat, at least. Ned
is quite worried about you."
"Why would he be worried
about me?" Cas asked.
"And why's Vico stuck
to me like glue, instead
of finding his own team?"
"Genoah is in the hands
of the healer support crew,
and Thunderball is napping,"
said Il Dottore. "They know
how to handle their powers,
while yours seem new to you."
"I don't have any powers!"
Cas said, throwing his hands up.
"Indeed you do," Il Dottore said,
then glanced at Vico. "Are you
comfortable talking in this company?
I'm afraid I can't do without a guard
altogether, but I left mine outside
the door, in hope that you might
be getting along with Vico."
"He's fine," Cas said, "but
what power? I don't know
what you're talking about!"
"I actually can't tell you that,
because I don't know either,"
said Il Dottore. "Genoah
thought some sort of healing,
logical in context, but I know how
that feels like and this is different."
"You're a reader?" Cas said. He'd
heard of those but never met one.
"No, a telepath," said Il Dottore.
"I can often sense the shape
of a person's superpower inside
their mind, but I'm afraid the matter
of souls lies beyond my grasp."
"Souls," Cas repeated numbly.
"I'm not -- all I did was a bit of
first aid, and I couldn't even
do much with that because I
didn't have the supplies!"
"You did well enough to keep
Ned alive, when I am reliably
informed that he should have
died before help could reach
him," said Il Dottore. "He has
been told what happened, but
doesn't remember it himself."
Well, that was a relief.
At least one of them
wouldn't have to recall
Cas stuffing his clothes
inside of Ned's chest.
Something flittered over
him then, downy and warm,
like a comforter. Cas sighed.
He suddenly understood why
the rats loved to burrow in things.
He wanted to dive into that warmth
and just roll around in it all day.
"That's the kind of thing I was
concerned about," said Il Dottore.
"Fighting is hard enough on those
trained for it, and worse on anyone
who doesn't know how to handle it.
I could help you settle it, if you like?"
"It's safe," Vico said softly.
"You can trust him, I swear."
Cas was all out of protests.
"Yeah, go ahead," he said.
"Thank you," said Il Dottore.
"May I share the couch?"
"Sure." Cas scooted over.
Il Dottore sat on the couch,
which promptly sagged in
the middle, tilting Cas
toward the telepath.
Cas tried to stay upright,
clutching the arm of the couch.
"It's all right," said Il Dottore.
"You're welcome to lean on me."
So Cas let go of the couch
and sagged onto the older man.
It was like falling into a feather bed,
warm and soft and wonderful. Cas
sighed and snuggled closer as
Il Dottore wrapped a gentle arm
around him and stroked his hair.
Cas stopped feeling tired and
frazzled. Then he realized
that the recent firefight wasn't
bothering him anymore either.
It felt like it had happened
a month ago, not an hour or so.
It was like everything in his head
had been shaken out, fluffed
gently, folded, and put away.
Cas blinked and sat up.
"Did I fall asleep on you?"
"Not quite," said Il Dottore.
"You just needed a little rest."
"Thanks," Cas said. "I feel
a lot better now. Was that ...
is that what telepathy is like?
You feel like Microfyne."
"Why thank you. I'm glad
you enjoyed it," said Il Dottore.
"Your power seems to be quiet
at the moment, whatever it is."
"If your powers and mine are
so different, then how did
you know about mine at all?"
Cas wondered. "Most folks
don't notice superpowers."
"I can see your memories
of what you've done -- it's
hard not to, when you were
obsessing about them so,"
said Il Dottore. "I helped
your mind put them away
properly, so they don't get
stuck and cause problems."
"Thanks," Cas said. "I don't
need my head any more of
a mess than it already is."
Il Dottore clucked his tongue.
"Your head is not as much of
a mess as you might imagine.
You've taken some hard knocks,
but you have help, so you don't
have to deal with them alone."
"Yeah," Cas said. "It's just ...
the idea is so out there, and
if my powers are different from
everyone else's, then how'm
I supposed to learn about them?"
"Think of the sky and the ocean,"
said Il Dottore. "They're separate,
but they touch all along the surface,
and at the horizon they seem to meet.
Soul powers are just like that, distinct
but not separated, if that makes sense."
"I guess?" said Cas. "I'm not really
religious. I take care of people with
different superpowers, but I don't
know a lot about how they work,
other than needing extra food.
It's interesting to explore, though."
"The search for the lessons of
superpowers is still in progress,
really in its infancy," said Il Dottore.
"What do you mean by that?" Cas said.
"In this realm, there is a new kind of
freedom, where it is more rewarding
to explore than to reach conclusions,
more satisfying to wonder than to know,
and more exciting to search than to stay
put. Curiosity, not certainty, becomes
the saving grace," said Il Dottore.
Cas managed to smile a little. "Well,
we have no shortage of curiosity."
"That's good," said Il Dottore.
"If you need any help sorting out
your experiences, or what to do
next, just ask. We would be glad
to offer assistance, and we have
priests who could help. I've heard
about you and Ned before, and
your encounter was intriguing."
"I don't know what happened
then either," Cas muttered. "Can
we just ... ignore this? It's really
nice of you to offer help, but ..."
He remembered something that
Heron had said. "My brain is full."
"Understandable," said Il Dottore.
"So long as your power doesn't get
out of hand, you have no obligation
to explore it or share it. If you change
your mind, we can discuss it later."
"Thanks," said Cas. "A lot has
been happening, and this is
a hard time of year for me."
"Yes, of course," said Il Dottore.
"I don't want to add pressure."
"Kind of hard not to," Cas said.
"A healer -- two healers -- and
a trip to Italy? That can't be cheap."
Il Dottore fluttered a hand. "You
don't need to worry about it,
such is for bosses to settle."
"I'm the housefather, I can't
help but worry about whether
it's going to impact the budget
for food and supplies," Cas said.
Vico startled, as if he hadn't
expected to hear that about Cas.
"Would it make you feel better
to know a bit more about what
kind of arrangements we're
likely to make?" said Il Dottore.
"Yeah, if I have some idea, it'll
stop running around in the back
of my mind like a flying rat chasing
the last soybean," Cas admitted.
Vico was really staring now.
"Well, your boss has a knack with
fine cars, and my favorite convertible
has a knock in the engine," said Il Dottore.
Cas burst out laughing. "Oh my god,
you could ask for anything, and you
want him to fix your car," he said.
"Boss will love that. Okay, yeah,
I can stop worrying about it now."
"Very good," said Il Dottore. "We
strive for agreeable exchanges.
Shall we go see your Ned? He
should be released later today, and
seeing you will help him settle down."
Cas shifted in place, carefully
testing his recovered strength.
"Yeah, I think I'm up for a walk,"
he said. "Let's check on Ned."
Vico tucked his knitting into
a canvas bag. "Would you
like me to come with you, so
you've got a familiar bodyguard?"
"Yes, please," said Cas. "I know
there's a custom for healers and
other important people to have
bodyguards, so better you than
someone we don't know at all."
"I'm honored," Vico said, and he
sounded like he meant it, like Cas
himself was some saving grace.
Cas just shook his head and
followed the man into the hall.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its notes appear separately.
This microfunded poem is being posted one verse at a time, as donations come in to cover them. The rate is $0.50/line, so $5 will reveal 10 new lines, and so forth. There is a permanent donation button on my profile page, or you can contact me for other arrangements. You can also ask me about the number of lines per verse, if you want to fund a certain number of verses.
So far sponsors include: Anthony & Shirley Barrette, DW user Librarygeek, and DW user Fuzzyred
FULLY FUNDED
Amount donated = $173
Verses posted = 107 of 133
Amount remaining to fund fully = $50
Amount needed to fund next verse = $2.50
Amount needed to fund the verse after that = $3
Becomes the Saving Grace
[Sunday, March 6, 2016]
When Cas woke up,
a soft clicking sound
snagged his attention.
He opened his eyes to find
the bodyguard ... knitting?
Yes, knitting. The sound was
the metal needles clicking together,
and a strand of pale blue yarn
twitched its way leisurely toward
what might have been becoming
a scarf or a shawl of some sort.
As Cas watched, the yarn
darkened from pale blue
to something like seaglass.
The ball must be variegated.
"That's pretty," he murmured.
Vico looked up. "Ah, you're
awake. How do you feel?"
Ravenous. As if he hadn't
eaten in days, and the memory
of that time gnawed at him.
"I'm fine," Cas lied. "You
don't have to babysit me."
His stomach growled a betrayal.
Vico raised his eyebrows. "Well,
I'm hungry, so I'll send for enough
that you can nibble if you want."
"Thanks, I guess," Cas said.
He could feel his cheeks heating.
"It's no trouble," Vico said as he
typed something into his phone.
"I'm a bodyguard because I like
taking care of people as much
as I like punching bad guys."
Cas was suddenly, wistfully
reminded of Pug. He hoped
that the enforcer was okay.
"So, you're making a scarf?
A shawl?" he said, hoping
to change the subject.
"A scarf, for my little sister,"
Vico said. "Natale likes
colors that remind her of
the ocean, stormy or bright."
"I've never seen the ocean,"
Cas said. "I mean, not in
person, only on television."
"It's very beautiful, but
dangerous too," Vico said.
"We're in Italy, so it's never
far away. Perhaps you
can visit on another trip."
"Yeah, that would be
really nice," Cas said.
A knock at the door
announced the food.
Vico got up to fetch it.
He soon came back with
a bucket of shrimp alfredo,
another of salad, what looked
like a platter of tiny donut holes,
and a couple of very large drinks.
There were paper napkins, plates,
and flatware so they could divide
the food however they wished.
"That looks like a lot of stuff,"
Cas said, staring at it.
"Eat up," said Vico.
"Anything we don't
finish, I'll just hand
to my teleporter."
Cas couldn't help
laughing. "Oh yeah,
they're always hungry."
"You know this about
teleporters, but not
yourself?" Vico said.
"I'm not a soup,"
Cas said, shrugging.
"I ... see," Vico said. "Well,
a fight can make anyone
hungry. Just try a little
and see what you like."
Cas tried the alfredo, which
at least looked familiar.
The flavor made him
whimper with pleasure.
It was thick and creamy, but
the cheese sauce was sharp and
complicated in a way he'd never
tasted, and the shrimp -- he didn't
even know how to describe it.
"Whaff wiff theshe shrimp?"
Cas said with his mouth full.
"They're fresh from the ocean,
never frozen," Vico explained.
Cas wished all the more that
he could see the ocean, if
fresh seafood tasted like this.
Vico nudged the salad at him.
It looked like ... chopped stuff,
and smelled sharply of vinegar.
"What is this?" Cas said,
poking at the contents.
"Muffaletta salad," said Vico.
"It has olives and giardiniera,
fresh vegetables, cured meats --
it's good for you, very filling."
Curious, Cas tasted it, and
the flavors exploded over
his tongue, rich salt fat
sour savory sweet.
He shoveled in more
as fast as he could.
"Thish amazhing," he said.
"I'm glad you like it," Vico said.
"Here, I got Italian sodas. These
are strawberry-lemon. Sorry,
wine isn't a good idea right now."
"S'fine, I don't drink much,"
Cas said. He tried the soda,
which was sort of orange-ish.
It was the kind made at home
with syrup and fizzy water, only
he was pretty sure the syrup
had been made from real fruit.
The food was so good that
Cas lost himself in it, and was
surprised when his fork scraped
the bottom of the alfredo bucket.
"Yeah, I just killed the salad,"
Vico admitted. "Dessert?"
"What are those things?"
Cas said. "Donut holes?"
Vico laughed. "Strufoli.
Italian honey balls," he said.
"Oh," Cas said. "I love honey."
"Then you're in for quite a ride,"
Vico said. "Italian honey will have
whole new flavors for you, because
so many of our flowers are different."
Cas took one of the little balls. It
had nuts and colorful sprinkles
stuck to the honey coating.
The flavor was intensely sweet,
but also floral, and pine nuts
added a subtle crunch.
Cas realized that he was
making the kind of noises
that the sex workers practiced
in the living room together.
Vico just grinned at him
and claimed a few of
the honey balls himself.
Eventually they demolished
most of the pile. "You want
the last one?" Vico offered.
"Ugh, no, I'm stuffed," Cas said.
"If I eat any more, I'll explode."
"That's good," Vico said, and
ate the remaining honey ball.
Cas dropped the disposables
in the trash can, and then
sprawled on the couch.
He should get up and
find out more about Ned,
he really should, but he
just didn't have the energy.
The quiet click of knitting needles
indicated that Vico had picked up
his project, as if he had nothing
better to do than knit a scarf
while keeping an eye on Cas.
A few minutes later, Vico
suddenly looked up, as if
he'd heard something.
Cas looked up too, but
there was no sound.
There was something else,
though, warm and bright,
like sunshine flooding in.
The door opened, and
an old man stepped in,
his face covered by
a black half-mask with
silver swans across it.
Vico dropped his knitting
and started to scramble up.
"Sit, sit," the old man said,
waving a hand. "You boys
worked hard, you must be tired."
Vico sat, but he no longer lounged
with a lapful of knitting. He sat at
attention, focused on the visitor.
It was like how everyone watched
Boss Blaster, only ... more.
So Cas heaved himself into
a more upright position too.
"I am Il Dottore," the man said.
"I've already checked on Ned,
and I wanted to check on you
too, Cas, if that's all right."
"I'm fine," Cas said. "Well.
Possibly I ate too much, but
the food was just so good..."
Il Dottore chuckled. "I'm happy
to hear that. Still, I would like
to have a chat, at least. Ned
is quite worried about you."
"Why would he be worried
about me?" Cas asked.
"And why's Vico stuck
to me like glue, instead
of finding his own team?"
"Genoah is in the hands
of the healer support crew,
and Thunderball is napping,"
said Il Dottore. "They know
how to handle their powers,
while yours seem new to you."
"I don't have any powers!"
Cas said, throwing his hands up.
"Indeed you do," Il Dottore said,
then glanced at Vico. "Are you
comfortable talking in this company?
I'm afraid I can't do without a guard
altogether, but I left mine outside
the door, in hope that you might
be getting along with Vico."
"He's fine," Cas said, "but
what power? I don't know
what you're talking about!"
"I actually can't tell you that,
because I don't know either,"
said Il Dottore. "Genoah
thought some sort of healing,
logical in context, but I know how
that feels like and this is different."
"You're a reader?" Cas said. He'd
heard of those but never met one.
"No, a telepath," said Il Dottore.
"I can often sense the shape
of a person's superpower inside
their mind, but I'm afraid the matter
of souls lies beyond my grasp."
"Souls," Cas repeated numbly.
"I'm not -- all I did was a bit of
first aid, and I couldn't even
do much with that because I
didn't have the supplies!"
"You did well enough to keep
Ned alive, when I am reliably
informed that he should have
died before help could reach
him," said Il Dottore. "He has
been told what happened, but
doesn't remember it himself."
Well, that was a relief.
At least one of them
wouldn't have to recall
Cas stuffing his clothes
inside of Ned's chest.
Something flittered over
him then, downy and warm,
like a comforter. Cas sighed.
He suddenly understood why
the rats loved to burrow in things.
He wanted to dive into that warmth
and just roll around in it all day.
"That's the kind of thing I was
concerned about," said Il Dottore.
"Fighting is hard enough on those
trained for it, and worse on anyone
who doesn't know how to handle it.
I could help you settle it, if you like?"
"It's safe," Vico said softly.
"You can trust him, I swear."
Cas was all out of protests.
"Yeah, go ahead," he said.
"Thank you," said Il Dottore.
"May I share the couch?"
"Sure." Cas scooted over.
Il Dottore sat on the couch,
which promptly sagged in
the middle, tilting Cas
toward the telepath.
Cas tried to stay upright,
clutching the arm of the couch.
"It's all right," said Il Dottore.
"You're welcome to lean on me."
So Cas let go of the couch
and sagged onto the older man.
It was like falling into a feather bed,
warm and soft and wonderful. Cas
sighed and snuggled closer as
Il Dottore wrapped a gentle arm
around him and stroked his hair.
Cas stopped feeling tired and
frazzled. Then he realized
that the recent firefight wasn't
bothering him anymore either.
It felt like it had happened
a month ago, not an hour or so.
It was like everything in his head
had been shaken out, fluffed
gently, folded, and put away.
Cas blinked and sat up.
"Did I fall asleep on you?"
"Not quite," said Il Dottore.
"You just needed a little rest."
"Thanks," Cas said. "I feel
a lot better now. Was that ...
is that what telepathy is like?
You feel like Microfyne."
"Why thank you. I'm glad
you enjoyed it," said Il Dottore.
"Your power seems to be quiet
at the moment, whatever it is."
"If your powers and mine are
so different, then how did
you know about mine at all?"
Cas wondered. "Most folks
don't notice superpowers."
"I can see your memories
of what you've done -- it's
hard not to, when you were
obsessing about them so,"
said Il Dottore. "I helped
your mind put them away
properly, so they don't get
stuck and cause problems."
"Thanks," Cas said. "I don't
need my head any more of
a mess than it already is."
Il Dottore clucked his tongue.
"Your head is not as much of
a mess as you might imagine.
You've taken some hard knocks,
but you have help, so you don't
have to deal with them alone."
"Yeah," Cas said. "It's just ...
the idea is so out there, and
if my powers are different from
everyone else's, then how'm
I supposed to learn about them?"
"Think of the sky and the ocean,"
said Il Dottore. "They're separate,
but they touch all along the surface,
and at the horizon they seem to meet.
Soul powers are just like that, distinct
but not separated, if that makes sense."
"I guess?" said Cas. "I'm not really
religious. I take care of people with
different superpowers, but I don't
know a lot about how they work,
other than needing extra food.
It's interesting to explore, though."
"The search for the lessons of
superpowers is still in progress,
really in its infancy," said Il Dottore.
"What do you mean by that?" Cas said.
"In this realm, there is a new kind of
freedom, where it is more rewarding
to explore than to reach conclusions,
more satisfying to wonder than to know,
and more exciting to search than to stay
put. Curiosity, not certainty, becomes
the saving grace," said Il Dottore.
Cas managed to smile a little. "Well,
we have no shortage of curiosity."
"That's good," said Il Dottore.
"If you need any help sorting out
your experiences, or what to do
next, just ask. We would be glad
to offer assistance, and we have
priests who could help. I've heard
about you and Ned before, and
your encounter was intriguing."
"I don't know what happened
then either," Cas muttered. "Can
we just ... ignore this? It's really
nice of you to offer help, but ..."
He remembered something that
Heron had said. "My brain is full."
"Understandable," said Il Dottore.
"So long as your power doesn't get
out of hand, you have no obligation
to explore it or share it. If you change
your mind, we can discuss it later."
"Thanks," said Cas. "A lot has
been happening, and this is
a hard time of year for me."
"Yes, of course," said Il Dottore.
"I don't want to add pressure."
"Kind of hard not to," Cas said.
"A healer -- two healers -- and
a trip to Italy? That can't be cheap."
Il Dottore fluttered a hand. "You
don't need to worry about it,
such is for bosses to settle."
"I'm the housefather, I can't
help but worry about whether
it's going to impact the budget
for food and supplies," Cas said.
Vico startled, as if he hadn't
expected to hear that about Cas.
"Would it make you feel better
to know a bit more about what
kind of arrangements we're
likely to make?" said Il Dottore.
"Yeah, if I have some idea, it'll
stop running around in the back
of my mind like a flying rat chasing
the last soybean," Cas admitted.
Vico was really staring now.
"Well, your boss has a knack with
fine cars, and my favorite convertible
has a knock in the engine," said Il Dottore.
Cas burst out laughing. "Oh my god,
you could ask for anything, and you
want him to fix your car," he said.
"Boss will love that. Okay, yeah,
I can stop worrying about it now."
"Very good," said Il Dottore. "We
strive for agreeable exchanges.
Shall we go see your Ned? He
should be released later today, and
seeing you will help him settle down."
Cas shifted in place, carefully
testing his recovered strength.
"Yeah, I think I'm up for a walk,"
he said. "Let's check on Ned."
Vico tucked his knitting into
a canvas bag. "Would you
like me to come with you, so
you've got a familiar bodyguard?"
"Yes, please," said Cas. "I know
there's a custom for healers and
other important people to have
bodyguards, so better you than
someone we don't know at all."
"I'm honored," Vico said, and he
sounded like he meant it, like Cas
himself was some saving grace.
Cas just shook his head and
followed the man into the hall.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its notes appear separately.
