sorser | HORIZON.

HORIZON.

THE GROUNDS Somehow, impossibly, the Himalayas press into the skyline. The buildings are tall and silent, of sturdy stonework and slanted rooftops. The space between them is ample, as though they’ve drifted slowly apart through the ages — but the clearance is calm, quiet, cool. It is ancient here. It is peaceful here. The air invites meditation, reflection, and a sense of knowing that you can push past your limits and improve yourself. That you can learn.

THE EXTERIOR The building sits amid the open area surrounding it, demanding focus upon the bold, upward-chasing lines of its Western architecture. It looks like a townhouse, singular because it lacks any neighbors to match. How many stories is it? Two? Three? It’s hard to tell at first glance, even if the circular skylight adorning its facade never wavers, but trying to suss it out is a pointless endeavor, anyway. The sidewalk leading to the porch stairs leading to the door is positively metropolitan. The door is open if you’re expected, or maybe even if you aren't. The interior inspires curiosity even in the disinterested.

THE FOYER A large staircase is a centerpiece, but there are places to sit, end tables with scattered books, a fireplace unused unless someone wills it to life; then, it casts a warm light across the dark, earthen tones of the foyer, somehow accentuating the depth of space. The flooring shines, its odd patterns bordering (but not quite) on non-Euclidean. This place looks lived in, and planks of sunlight sneak in through a hole in the roof that— No, wait, there's no such thing. Eyes playing tricks, probably.

THE LIBRARYBooks. So many books. The shelves are myriad, and they are lined up neatly like soldiers ready to march off to war. Reach out to one and pull out a tome by its spine. It’s any title you want, it’s knowledge that’s been tucked away somewhere deep in your (or maybe Stephen’s) memory. The subject matter is aplenty, but upon closer inspection there’s a clear inclination towards magic, or medicine, or… music? Wait, is that a book or vinyl in an old slipcase? Well, it doesn’t matter.

Somedays, the books can’t stay put — literally. Grasping one is a feat of physicality, for how they fly about like birds flitting from branch to branch. It adds to the novelty.

THE OTHER PLACES AND SPACESThis domain changes when you aren’t looking, rooms moving, doorways switching places, corridors winding for far too long. But one never feels trapped, only as though if they are taking the scenic route from point A to point B.

The upper floors, though it’s impossible to tell which, harbor strange old relics. Carved from stone or wrought from metal, oddly warm to touch, placed on pedestals or behind glass or just in a corner, lying sideways. Glance up, and the strange, circular skylight hovers above in places where it makes no sense to put a skylight. But the sun refracts through it all the same. The warping design of lines across its face move, sometimes, indefinable.

THE CITY STREETSometimes, you’ll hear the bustle of people from outside, and they always sound like they’re in a hurry. A car horn honks, a siren blares by. How does that even make sense? Look out any old window and when you hear these noises, the outside has changed into a city. One particular street. It’s alive, and it has a pulse, and there are so many places you could go visit if you walked even just a block down.

The Metro is always in sight, no matter where you stand, like it’s been nailed into the horizon line. It looks too far to visit any longer, but you know it’ll always be there.

CODE BY MARWOOD

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[ the view of the himalayas is stunning, and for the first twenty or so minutes Castiel's lingering in Stephen's domain, he sits near a heavy, bronze bell on the Kamar-Taj training grounds, watching the skyline, parsing through his long memory.

over the eons he'd watched over earth, exploring forgotten places was a calming pastime for him. cas remembers when they'd been full to the brim with life - spiritualists, philosophers, pilgrims, humans searching every corner of their consciousness for the divine, for deeper meaning, for peace. in later centuries, they were half-abandoned, whispers of life long extinguished clinging to the rounded corners of stone where hands once brushed in passing, leaned against, decorated in times of celebration. what the world forgot, the earth remembers. some things remain, tucked away and hidden, small surprises in a cracked ceramic bowl, a once-beloved bracelet forgotten in the corner of a bedroom, a few stray beads perhaps broken off ceremonial robes now stuck in the cracks between intricately patterned stones of the courtyards.

this place, in the horizon, isn't uninhabited, it isn't a ruin. someone who remembers a time these grounds cradled vibrant life must've constructed it, and cas ponders on who, while watching the distant, snow-peaked mountains towering over and protecting the holy site. the central building with the westernized architecture, he imagines, is where he'll find the keeper of this domain.

not wanting to arrive unannounced, cas lays a hand against the thick bell, and gives it a push, just enough to have it ring out clearly once or twice, before its weight slows it to a gradual halt. works well enough as a doorbell, and cas makes his way towards the building's open entryway. ]

I've been trying to place this monastery. [ cas begins while pacing into the foyer, eyes on the strange flooring, expecting whoever's home would hear him. if not, he's perfectly content to talk to walls. ] Of all the ancient sacred places protected by the Himalayas, this one escapes my memory.

[He had sensed the presence of someone new in his domain like a tugging on his consciousness, or a pebble dropped in still water, sending ripples outward — but the bell, echoing throughout the grounds and lowly penetrating through the walls of the building, is still a conscientious touch. It pulls him away from wherever he was nestled before, to stand at the top of the stairs in the middle of the foyer, greeting guests as though this were the real New York Sanctum, tending to what they needed, answering what questions they came bearing.

He doesn’t recognize this man; that in itself isn’t surprising. He does not know but a scant few who have made domains in the Horizon, and if there are yet more, he’s not taken the time to explore thoroughly enough. Even so, the stranger isn’t unwelcome. The doors are open for a reason — Stephen’s curiosity extends past the doorstep, ushers them in so that he might know who his not-so-figurative neighbors are.]

Do you visit a lot of ancient, sacred places?

[He’s acerbic, as he usually is with those he doesn’t know, but the question doesn’t bite. It sounds amused, intrigued. He descends the stairs—floats down them actually, a red cloak billowing behind him—drawing closer and gesturing out the door behind Castiel.]

That one’s Kamar-Taj. Not exactly on a map, at least as far as I was aware when I first arrived.

[ cas paces to stand at the base of the staircase, looking up to take in the red-cloaked man that answers him, head at a curious tilt, before he turns back to the open doors and training grounds beyond them. ]

Yes. [ a pause settles, and it seems like that might be all he offers as an answer, but after a long moment of cementing Kamar-Taj into his memory once more, he adds, ] Most I've seen at least once.

[ Castiel's rolling the name around in his head, digging through the catalogue of memories, through what he knows and what he'd witnessed of human history, but can't find a single match. Perhaps it's specific to this man's world, and not his own Earth. Fascinating, regardless. ]

Kamar-Taj, the name isn't familiar. Who built it?

[ turning back to address Stephen directly, his eyes lower to the empty, hover-space between his shoes and the stairs, a pensive wrinkling of his brow. welp, cas teleports outside of cars in lieu of using door handles, so he can't really judge the dude for levitating down a staircase. sometimes walking is just overrated. ]

[He lands once he’s ground-level, cloak settling at his back into normalcy as though it were little more than an extravagant piece of cloth. The answer makes him tilt his head in turn, and Stephen trawls through his own memory to reply.]

The Masters of the Mystic Arts, those who came long before me. Maybe even the first Sorcerer Supreme.

[The reality is that he isn’t sure, really, who built it. He had always just assumed that it was built by the same people who took him in when he was penniless and desperate, and this hole in his knowledge is suddenly a transgression that he wishes he could fix. Mental note to self, on the ever-growing list: do more research when and if he returns to his home universe.

For now, though, there are more pressing curiosities at hand. Who are you, fellow stranger and Horizon-wanderer.]

As for you, you’re either a very stalwart explorer, or a man who’s lived a very long time. [Both is reasonable, too.] Which is it?

[ when stephen lands, cas is wholesale leaned to the side, attention focused on the magic cloak more than the man wearing it for a solid handful of seconds. interesting piece of enchantment that is, and he holds in the urge to reach out and touch it. don't, cas, it's weird. he does, eventually, find stephen's face, and the conversation, again. ]

Both.

[ cas answers the question prompt and short, though not impolite. he's assuming that straight answer is sufficient. awareness of when context is expected has not historically been a skill he possesses.

stephen's answers, the names he invokes, ping all the intrigued bits of his angel-brain, and castiel's eyes become laser-focused on the man, doing that unsettlingly intense eye contact habit he has, like he's staring past a person's eyes and directly into their brain. thankfully, after dean's advice (and a very unfortunate experience with a stripper), he's sworn off using the telepathy cheat on humans. the unethical and uncomfortable nature of it was made clear, though dean failed to mention that staring people down like you're trying to freaking soul-gaze them is another big factor in the uncomfortable vibe. it's all a work in progress. ]

Is that your coven, the Masters of the Mystic Arts? [ not a term he's heard before, and magic user typically means 'witch' in his world, thus - coven. ] Your Sorcerer Supreme must be quite powerful to so thoroughly avoid detection this long.

[He gets the sense that he’s having a hole bored into him via intense stare, yes. Though maybe that should be expected: though a “both” barely provides the information Stephen’s prying at, it does provide something to work with. An ages-old man who is probably more than just a man, who has seen more than a single lifetime would allow for — and who has some interest in places similar to Kamar-Taj.

He feels his brows lifting with each passing second, the word choice… unexpected. A coven? So he’s a witch, now.]

We’re a group of sorcerers. An order, if you had to put a label on it. [He scoffs a little, though, at some unknown joke at the mention of the Sorcerer Supreme’s power.] Yes, the Sorcerer Supreme’s powerful, but don’t let him hear you say that.

[Once upon a time, Stephen was Sorcerer Supreme — and then the title was passed down to Wong via technicality thanks to being blipped and missing for five long years. Does the man feel any guilt at gently roasting his friend from universes away, even if he’s the last man in existence who’d let it go to his head?

Obviously not.]

It’s either that or the nature of the multiverse. A Kamar-Taj exists in my world, where it wouldn’t necessarily exist in yours. Places, people, even giant swaths of history could be completely different in a neighboring universe, and most people don’t even realize it.

It’s a concept that’s much more pronounced in a place like this one.

Edited (Typos sigh ) 2021-12-20 19:10 (UTC)

[ There are a number of mountainous domains, Rinwell's noticed. In the very least, the borders of her slice of Cyslodian range run close to that of the witchers who showed her how to enter the Horizon, and she knows others are dotted around in the distance.

Kamar-Taj is new, though. She's never seen anything quite like it before, and there's a pang in her chest as she steps quietly into the territory; the style of the buildings and the layout of the temple grounds is appealing compared to the heat and dust and steampunk supremacy she's had to deal with in Cadens.

In this place, she's once again dressed in clothing from home, touched by the Magician's mark she gained in Abraxas, with the tarot symbol running along the edge of her cloak rather than replace the central butterfly clasp. She stands out, to be sure, and from the depths of the voluminous hood, a small owl pops up his head, with a soft coo as she looks back at him with a smile. ]

Maybe there were places like this on Dahna once upon a time. What do you think, Hootle?

[Stephen has learned that his domain is not unlike the Sanctum, at least in that he can sense when a visitor's arrived. The heart of it tugs at his consciousness the same way a spider knows when something has landed at the periphery of its web, though the doctor would prefer to use a far less ominous metaphor. He investigates not because of some dread intent, but out of mere curiosity -- it was a matter of time until neighbors wandered over, and maybe he even fashioned his domain to imbue a wonderment, a strangeness (no pun intended) that could not be easily ignored.

So. Rinwell is allowed to wander the grounds for a minute or two more, when without preamble, Stephen stands leaning against one of many solid stone banisters encompassing the training grounds. His arms are crossed and his brow is lifted, and he calls out to earn her attention.]

Is that where you're from?

[Dahna, he means. Hi there.

He's dressed in his sorcerer's garb, his own clothes from home, which coincidentally match hers at least in overall hue; navy, though with far fewer highlights of color. There's no bright red cloak resting at his shoulders this time, at least not right now.

Nor does he have some kind of animal on his shoulders like the young woman before him. An owl? He wonders.]

[If there's one thing Emet-Selch has found, in his wanderings, it's that there are very few spaces that are built for people the size of the form he takes in the Horizon. This is not a surprise, precisely, given how matters are even on the world he might otherwise call his own, but it does mean that he is often forced to either adjust his own height or abandon the idea of exploring all together.

Today, he has opted for the former, or rather, had right up until he'd found himself in a very spacious library with conveniently tall ceilings and had promptly returned to his proper size, with nary a thought as to what the owner of this particular domain might think to find a veritable giant of a man standing in the middle of their library - and giant he is, given that he stands some 15 feet tall.

The fact that he's dressed in long (if simple) robes and has long pale hair besides are not nearly as eye-catching in comparison to his absolutely ridiculous height, but even so, he cuts a very odd figure, as he peruses the shelves, apparently not so much looking for any one thing as simply seeing what sorts of things the shelves might contain.]

Edited 2021-12-29 07:39 (UTC)

[Now this is a curious visitor, Stephen thinks when he sees him, a giant of a man who’s wandered into his domain and found himself planted within the confines of the library. Though his stature is… noticeable, dwarfing Stephen who isn’t exactly short in human terms, there’s something else he senses—magically, perhaps—that nibbles at his inherent curiosity even more. He can’t exactly put his finger on it, his sense of those who wander into his domain more a fleeting impression than a thorough reading, but it warrants further investigation.

Does the man even see him in his periphery as he approaches? Stephen wonders, suddenly feeling abnormally low to the ground, and instead opts to hover on the opposite side of the bookshelf, floating up and up with his red cloak billowing at his back, until he finally reaches eye-level with the man across from him.]

Out of all places in this version of the Sanctum, you’ve stood in the library the longest.

[His brow arches. He doesn’t bother to hide the once-over.]

So either you’re bored and killing time, a fan of reading, or you’re having trouble finding something. [It’s vaguely flippant at best; he knows someone doesn’t just wander into a strange area, looking for a strange, nameless book upon a random shelf.] That shelf’s all basic Eldritch magic spell casting, by the way.

[hi, whoooo are you]

[ Perhaps she shouldn't be surprised that there's another person present. It doesn't stop Rinwell all but jumping out of her skin, however, Hootle flapping to retain his balance as the girl spins about. She doesn't quite hunch her shoulders — there's surely nothing to feel guilty about, right? — before brown eyes find the stranger who addressed her.

There's definitely a sheepish air when she replies, however. ]

Ah.. Yes. That's the name of my world. The place I grew up is cold like this but, otherwise, very different to here. And to, well. [there's a vague gesture with one hand; the world outside the Horizon is clearly implied]

Is this your home?

[ it's impressive this man is so familiar with the multidimensional nature of their wider realities, though witches— sorcerers would be better acquainted with the concept, wouldn't they? an intriguing man from an intriguing place, nonetheless. ]

Ah. [ cas nods, under the impression he completely understood that sentence and definitely didn’t miss some subtle humor. ] Ego’s a dangerous element in those possessing immense power. Nor a quality exclusive to humans.

[ this is where his stare cuts off, eyes snapping away from stephen in favor of examining the rest of the foyer. castiel’s never been great at concealing truths, and if the sentiment sounds personal; it is. Alien as he is, some mannerisms Castiel's picked up strike surprisingly human. there’s a subtle tinge of guilt or perhaps shame in stepping away out of the closer proximity and observation of the conversation. ]

Yes, of course, the various dimensions we're summoned from. [ his hand drifts to one of the antique vases, gingerly lifting it to turn in his hands, idly inspecting. ] It can be dangerous, opening doors between realities. One can never be entirely certain what crosses over with, or behind them. Once a door's open, closing it can become much more complicated.

[ He still finds the means of bringing them here suspect, and Cas isn't entirely convinced it's as safe as Cadens, or the other factions, believe. But that's neither here nor there, and Castiel's more curious to learn about Stephen's sect, as he returns the vase to its home on the mantle, and moves on to peering into the fireplace. ]

Does your order often cross the multiverse?

[He feels a little guilty for appearing out of the blue when he notices her inward reaction, but Stephen isn’t in the habit of being unsubtle back at the Sanctum — this habit exists in his domain, too, apparently.]
 
Sorry if I scared you. I’m a little too eager to see who wanders in from time to time.
 
[He straightens, unfolding his arms and gesturing at Rinwell.]
 
You’re welcome to look around any time you like. The environment I’ve based my domain on is like a second home. It’s called Kamar-Taj, a place where sorcerers would train and reflect.
 
[And then a glance over to the townhouse in the middle of the grounds, a strange building which look out of place via architecture alone.]
 
That’s my actual home back in New York.
 
[Well, a facsimile of it, but they all understand the logistics here.]

[His eyes follow as the man moves to the fireplace, taking note of the way he turns over the vase in his hands. There’s something very strange about him, markedly more as he speaks. To talk of humans like he isn’t one, or the casual discussion of the multiverse, different worlds, the consequences of opening too many doorways and crossing too many thresholds.

He finds himself walking closer, waving a hand idly towards the fireplace. A flame billows to life within it.]

No. At least not that I’m fully aware of. [Stephen’s tenure as a sorcerer is short compared to the storied history of practitioners of the Mystic Arts, but even in his research, he’s seen no mention of their lot casually crossing the multiverse.] You don’t just waltz into another dimension without consequences, and it’s our responsibility to protect our reality, not set it askew or open it up to dangerous forces.

[(ideally)]

Can I ask more questions about you?

[Since this man’s wandering inquisitiveness does not seem to keep the conversation moored unto himself.]

Edited 2022-01-05 06:03 (UTC)

That's okay. I'd be too, honestly. My place is.. [she turns then, trying to figure out the direction. She still hasn't quite worked out how all the pieces fit together here, only that they do.] Out..that way? North west, at least. More snow than here, or most other places.

[ The gesture of welcome seems out of place on the rather serious looking man, but Rinwell gives him a smile anyway, and Hootle bobs his head in acknowledgement. That smile gives way to something that is both amazed and perhaps delighted, when he mentions sorcerers and training. ]

Kamar-Taj.. It's beautiful. [Aside from...well. The slice of New York that sticks out like a very sore thumb, thanks to its very different architecture.] Are there many who can use magic where you're from?

[His gaze casts out towards where she’s indicated, and though Stephen gives no more acknowledgement than that, she can be assured he’s committed it to memory. Assuming there is some manner of physical reliability in the Horizon, he needs to know who’s who. He isn’t one for social calls normally, but an awareness of where to go if he needs to find someone here is critical.

Anyway. It’s next to impossible to miss her brightening enthusiasm, and if he had to hazard a guess, it piqued upon mention of sorcerers and their lot. Evidence of an inherent interest in magic — positive, probably, if he had to guess a second time.

A good jumping off point.]

Well, plenty in Kamar-Taj. The rest of the planet’s a little spotty, but makes up for it in other talents not related to magic.

[Their superhero selection has grown substantially larger in the last few years in his reality, that’s for sure.]

Is magic an interest of yours?

Really?

[ So, present there, but not uncommon. Or at least, no top the point that things have reached on Dahna, anyway. ]

It is, though we call it astral energy. [did the spellbook at her hip give it away? or the magician tarot on her robes? Rinwell doesn't seem to realise she'd relax enough to talk about it - but it's surely safe to talk about magic here, in a mindspace magic place made of the stuff!] It forms the world around us, and we— well, it can be tapped into if you have the ability. Though I can only use five of the elements, being Dahnan.

[ Said so matter of factly - because it IS fact, at least on her world. Not so on others, that she's learned, however, which is why she follows up with: ]

What kind of magic do you do here?

[For all that he may not have been able to see Stephen out of the corner of his eye, he'd been aware of another presence in the room. Enough to be aware that he hadn't been entirely alone, at least, though it isn't until he speaks that Emet-Selch turns to look at him... and in so doing reveals one last surprise. A pair of yellow eyes that seem to almost be glowing.]

Can I not simply be curious? It's hardly every day one sees such a faithfully recreated library. [A pause.] I presume it is a recreation?

[He knows that things need not be, here in the Horizon. But as his own domain is a similar recreation, he feels the need to ask.

More interesting, perhaps, is the fact that despite his size, his voice is no deeper than any other man's. Indeed, it isn't even a voice that would be considered particularly deep were he not several times a normal person's height. Nor does he object to the obvious once-over - and should Stephen have the ability to sense it, there is definitely a sense of magic about him. And a not insignificant amount at that - whoever, or whatever, he is, he has the power to be quite the sorcerer if he isn't already.]

More advanced spells would be further along, yes?

[This too, is largely idle curiosity for the moment. But it's still something that is loosely relevant, and it never hurts to know more about the places in which he has found himself.]

[He listens intently, and though it’s no doubt a generalized explanation of her world’s magic, it rings a bit familiar. Astral energy is about as accurate of a moniker as any, at least insofar as he’s been taught.]

The Mystic Arts tap into the energy of the multiverse to cast spells -- it doesn’t sound so different than what you’ve just told me.

[Except there seems to be a difference of limitation. Being “Dahnan” somehow restricts her to elemental magic only; is the reason physiological, cultural, environmental? All of the above?]

It’s light-based magic.

[Laughably simplified. But there’s no easy catch-all for its applications.]

It does a little bit of everything within reason. [“Within reason”… ymmv] Out here provides enough space for guided lessons; usually the newbies back home are struggling with portal creation, or sparring with conjured weaponry.

Things that’ll knock over a relic or two if you did them indoors.

[All right. Duly noted: vaguely glowing yellow eyes, and a voice that doesn’t sound like it belongs to a giant as he’d expect. But all that barely registers on the scale of interesting, at least comparatively, to what he senses from this man. An absolutely fount of potent magical energy, nothing to scoff at.

Just who’s wandered into his domain today? Another sorcerer? A cosmic entity? There’s something to be said about a situation where either case is just as likely.]

This is the library of Kamar-Taj, a place of study and training for sorcerers back home. The building you entered is located elsewhere, but why not mix things up when we’re given the chance?

[The Sanctum’s libraries were stuffed to the gills with texts, too, but nothing like the equivalent of a sorcerer’s “homebase”, where information across the ages—including the ones that needed the privilege of higher security—was where the real heavy duty reading converged and collected.

Not that it mattered here. It all personal preference, and easily changed on a whim. Anyway, Stephen’s going to prod a little more before he directs this man towards more complicated reading.]

That depends. What do you consider more advanced? I’m guessing you’re not a newbie in the spellcasting department.

[Clearly fishing. He knows because he can sense it poignantly.]

[Not a cosmic entity as Stephen likely knows them, at least. But more than a mere mortal nonetheless, even by the standards of his own world - and his own people. He does, however, appear to be somewhat less than inclined to make an active threat of himself. Instead, he nods at the explanation of where they happen to be standing, and though the names mean nothing to Emet-Selch, the idea of it being a place of study and training is something that he can understand.]

Why not indeed?

[His own domain might not be such a mingling of bits and pieces from various places, true. But that is neither here nor there at the moment, and instead he simply shrugs at Stephen's question.]

As I am familiar with neither the texts of your world nor what would be considered commonplace among sorcerers of any caliber therein, perhaps it would be easier if you were to show me what you would consider more advanced spellcraft? Though your assumption would not be incorrect. The vast majority of my people had at least some ability with spellcraft.

[And he likely more so than most, for all that he has not yet directly admitted to such.]

[It's a statement that gives enough information to propagate even more questions, but Stephen has enough restraint—and maybe just a smidgen enough of pride—to not let them spill forth. The arch of his brow rises yet again, though, just a fraction higher.]

I could point you in the right direction, or I could show you.

[The Horizon hems away so many restrictions that existed in the “real, waking” world. His magic came to him with the same ease as it did in his home reality; perhaps even easier. He could show this man what advanced magic looked like, and pry a little more into a session of compare and contrast.]

Maybe I should have your name first.

I don't know too many others who use artes like I do. [true, and earnest, if understated by quite a bit] But when you say 'multiverse', you mean— beyond just this world?

[ Well. The approximation of it, Stephen's slice of home.

Her eyes widen a bit to hear the mention of portals. That... That sounds amazing, but not at all what her people were capable of. (Had they been, once? Who knew how much had been lost..) Conjured weapony, too. Her left hand falls over the book at her hip, the well worn cover brushed by fingertips. ]

Light astral energy can't do that where I'm from. Portals, I mean. Knocking over relics? That part's easy.

Exactly. Beyond this world, into the infinite scope of others. More than anyone can hope to count. Different realities, alternate histories to your own, probably even an alternate you exists somewhere in the multiverse.

[Mulling over it is a good way to feel infinitesimally small, though the concept itself is grounding — especially in regards to the Singularity, with its apparent connection to worlds well beyond just this one.]

We don’t cross those boundaries, though. We just use its energies and try to keep the rest of it in balance.

[He notes her hand on the tome fastened to her hip, fairly certain its tied somehow to her own magic.]

You said no one casts magic like you do. Can you show me what you meant?

[ suddenly, fire. not always so welcome a surprise, but pleasant in this case. the hearth flares up with light and heat, cas jerking back slightly with surprise and a soft "oh". well, you are in a sorcerer's house, cas, probably should've seen that shit coming.

attention taken back from the scenery, he's soaking in the claim of responsibility for the protection of his reality, and cas finds he's growing to like this not-witch. it's rare to find a sect of human magic users more focused on aiding their world than personal gain. such is the case with power, he supposes. ]

A noble mission. Your dimension's fortunate to have your Order.

[ whether they know it or not. if dr. stranger's world is much like castiel's, probably not. those who sacrifice so much of themselves in service of protecting the whole often go unnoted, but it's never been a task for people seeking gratitude. the winchesters have made that clear enough. ]

Certainly. [ cas brightens, turning to face stephen properly, a (relatively) open book. ] What would you like to know?

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HORIZON.

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Horizon Wandering~ Early december-ish?

early december works! sorry for the delay! holidays and such

let's call this... early-to-mid December?

that works wonderfully!

No worries at all! RL gonna RL c:

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