Abstraction
"Abstraction"
Technical pens on vellum, finished size 8" x 6"
Nudity, but no manbits are visible. Ficlet to accompany picture is also below the cut.
details
In this nowhere place of shifting colors, Dean gripped the handle of his knife and pressed his fist against the wadded up bandana that served as bandage for the slash on his forearm. At least blood still flowed in this nowhere place, despite his body being…elsewhere. He wasn’t sure if the summoning spell would work here, or if would bring Cas after all that had happened. Cas had said he was an angeled up again, but Dean doubted that involved that fucker Metatron giving up the goods.
A glint of light caught the corner of vision and Dean spun around to face it, wary. The light intensified, a scattering of brightness that brought to mind the time Sammy, in grade school and so much younger and enthusiastic about the world, had proudly shown Dean the diffraction pattern that could be cast from an old CD. Dean took a step back, dropping the bandana. The light was an abstraction, hypnotic, and he shook his head, resisting the urge to fall into the patterns.
The light began to coalesce into shapes, first as eyes with stars for pupils, which were mesmerizing, but creepy as fuck. Waves of light wound around the eyes, extending upwards, twisting around each other until they rose as flames that forged first feathers, then great wings. The wings snapped out, then folded in on themselves, framing the figure that materialized slowly between their span.
Dean held himself ready. He was hopeful that the silhouette was his friend, but he couldn’t be sure. The form of the man began to solidify as the light from the wings brightened until Dean had to shield his eyes. Squinting through his figures, he could see the figure on his hand and knees, hunched in on himself. Symbols flared into life on the top of the wings, burning brightly and lighting the wings with a fire, before fading slowly away, leaving just the afterimage of wings.
Dean lowered his hand slowly, staring at the naked figure of his friend kneeling on the ground. Cas was staring at the not-ground, head bowed, breathing heavily. His friend didn’t seem to realize he was standing there.
“Cas?” Dean ventured, stepping closer. “Buddy, you ok?”
Cas shook his head, then took a deep breath, gathering himself to push shakily up on one knee, then to his feet. He lifted his hand, staring at his fingers as he clenched his fist, then turned to face Dean.
“Hello, Dean.”
Technical pens on vellum, finished size 8" x 6"
Nudity, but no manbits are visible. Ficlet to accompany picture is also below the cut.
details
In this nowhere place of shifting colors, Dean gripped the handle of his knife and pressed his fist against the wadded up bandana that served as bandage for the slash on his forearm. At least blood still flowed in this nowhere place, despite his body being…elsewhere. He wasn’t sure if the summoning spell would work here, or if would bring Cas after all that had happened. Cas had said he was an angeled up again, but Dean doubted that involved that fucker Metatron giving up the goods.
A glint of light caught the corner of vision and Dean spun around to face it, wary. The light intensified, a scattering of brightness that brought to mind the time Sammy, in grade school and so much younger and enthusiastic about the world, had proudly shown Dean the diffraction pattern that could be cast from an old CD. Dean took a step back, dropping the bandana. The light was an abstraction, hypnotic, and he shook his head, resisting the urge to fall into the patterns.
The light began to coalesce into shapes, first as eyes with stars for pupils, which were mesmerizing, but creepy as fuck. Waves of light wound around the eyes, extending upwards, twisting around each other until they rose as flames that forged first feathers, then great wings. The wings snapped out, then folded in on themselves, framing the figure that materialized slowly between their span.
Dean held himself ready. He was hopeful that the silhouette was his friend, but he couldn’t be sure. The form of the man began to solidify as the light from the wings brightened until Dean had to shield his eyes. Squinting through his figures, he could see the figure on his hand and knees, hunched in on himself. Symbols flared into life on the top of the wings, burning brightly and lighting the wings with a fire, before fading slowly away, leaving just the afterimage of wings.
Dean lowered his hand slowly, staring at the naked figure of his friend kneeling on the ground. Cas was staring at the not-ground, head bowed, breathing heavily. His friend didn’t seem to realize he was standing there.
“Cas?” Dean ventured, stepping closer. “Buddy, you ok?”
Cas shook his head, then took a deep breath, gathering himself to push shakily up on one knee, then to his feet. He lifted his hand, staring at his fingers as he clenched his fist, then turned to face Dean.
“Hello, Dean.”