[He can see the strain in Castiel's expression, as if his magic is a rock he's trying to squeeze water from. The angel's heavy, uneven breath reminds Wilhelm of when he tries to call on his magic to spark fire, but his anxiety strangles him. Except, for him the flame never comes, and light flickers at Castiel's fingertips anyway. He wonders if it's because magic is suffocated down here, or if it's something else.
He shakes his head at the apology. With his fingers, he traces the newly pink scars.]
It's fine. It's more than I could do. [And all he's got to give in return is a brief, awkward smile.] Thanks.
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He shakes his head at the apology. With his fingers, he traces the newly pink scars.]
It's fine. It's more than I could do. [And all he's got to give in return is a brief, awkward smile.] Thanks.