Anna (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hear_the_voices) wrote2009-06-09 01:28 pm
hear_the_voices) wrote2009-06-09 01:28 pm
Entry tags:
Ohio, 15 December 1990 C.E.
The mall is crowded, on a Saturday with only a week and a half until Christmas. Anna has been given very specific instructions from her parents: Stay with us.
And she means to. It's just one of those things that happens, in the crowds and the chaos. Anna gets distracted by a display of nutcrackers when her parents decide split up for five minutes, and when she looks up again, she is alone.
(Her mother and father -- not that Anna knows this -- are meeting each other at the other end of the department store, with horrified statements of I thought she was with you.)
Anna looks around, puzzled and a bit worried.
And then decides that if her parents are lost, well, she's just going to have to go find them.
And she means to. It's just one of those things that happens, in the crowds and the chaos. Anna gets distracted by a display of nutcrackers when her parents decide split up for five minutes, and when she looks up again, she is alone.
(Her mother and father -- not that Anna knows this -- are meeting each other at the other end of the department store, with horrified statements of I thought she was with you.)
Anna looks around, puzzled and a bit worried.
And then decides that if her parents are lost, well, she's just going to have to go find them.
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He did not come here for the purpose of seeing her. Of course. This is a time of year when people in parts of the world congregate in a wide variety of venues for a wide variety of reasons. The mall is very crowded. There are hundreds of people here to watch.
Anna is no more special than any other. She is just another human being.
She does not warrant special consideration.
She is not his responsibility.
She......is going completely in the wrong direction.
Had he the proper form, a very loud sigh would be emitted right about now.
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(Dishes are not that interesting, anyway.)
She reaches an intersection of two aisles, and looks carefully as far as she can see for her paren--
Ooooooh, these dolls are so pretty.
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But there is a bit of a grey area as to what constitutes 'direct interference,' depending on who is interpreting the rule.
And the celestial chain of command does not keep tabs on every single angel at every single moment.
So, against what he is pretty sure is his better judgment, Castiel carefully reaches out. And a large, cardboard-cutout snowman falls across the aisle where the dolls are displayed (and that leads all the further away from the Miltons).
Not much of a barrier. But maybe enough to make a small child stop and think.
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Anna stops short in front of the fallen Frosty.
Right. Task at hand. After all, her parents will likely get worried if they realize that they are lost.
Maybe they went this way?
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He had told himself, after the last time, that he would never look in on her again. It was difficult, and there was no purpose to it.
And it aroused comment among some of his other brothers and sisters. Some of whom still occasionally look at him with suspicion for his close attachment to the traitor. Some of whom regard him with pity for the loss of his favorite sibling (even though all are supposed to be valued equally). And some of whom, higher on the chain, watched with mild concern as Castiel, one who was always curious about and appreciative of the world, had quietly drawn into himself and lost interest in the workings of Creation.
All good reasons he should go.
But millennia of connection is hard to shake.
And Anna is still not on a course that will lead back to her parents.
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Has she passed that reindeer statue before?
Maybe she should turn left up here at the shoes.
. . . which way is left, again?
Anna considers both options, and decides. Left. Definitely.
She turns right and heads past a thicket-ish display of Christmas knick knacks.
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Still, if she were to turn toward the large music box on the pedestal ahead and to the left, she will at least be on the correct path.
It is a simple matter, really. Assuming that it will be heard among the piped-in music and low din of voices.
Castiel reaches out, and the music box (a wintry carousel) begins to turn and play.
Angels we have heard on high. Sweetly singing o'er the the plains...
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Anna turns, looking for the source of the music.
She likes that carol -- likes trying to get all the way through the Glorias without having to stop and breathe, even though she never manages it.
And it stands out amid all the Rudolphs and Jingle Bells playing around her.
Anna turns towards the music box, small gold and silver horses twirling beneath their boughs of holly.
. . . and the mountains in reply, echoing their joyous strains . . .
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...Gloria, in excelsis Deo...
It's no pillar of fire. But Castiel always did favor a more subtle approach.
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Another intersection.
Anna looks left, and right, and straight ahead.
And then closes her eyes and tries to see if she can make out any more of the carol.
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Even if you have no idea who you might be asking.
To the left, a small train starts up, endlessly circling a snow-covered depot.
...Shepherds, why this jubilee? Why your joyous strains prolong?...
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Coming?
Anna opens her eyes, spots the train and goes left.
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...Gloria, in excelsis Deo...
A rope of music that leads the way through the displays and shelves and busy shoppers.
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"Anna!"
There they are.
"I found you!" Anna says happily, as she's swept up into her father's arms and her mother is saying something about being scared half to death and how Anna was not supposed to wander off.
Which Anna didn't. At least, not until after her parents got lost. Which is where they would still be if she hadn't found them.
Still, being lost is scary, so she maybe that is why her mother is upset.
"But I found you," she says, to her mother. "There was music."
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Little that it matters.
Castiel, his self-imposed task completed, draws back from the family. But not far enough that he can't still watch.
Just for a little while longer. And then not again.
The last time, he warns.
It bears greater conviction when put into words.