kore_logs | I had a dream but I called it a plan

"Oh." She'd thought him someone who'd been here longer than she. Brigid cleared her throat. Her thumb rubbed against the other one, again, wishing for her rosary.

Her prayers interrupted, she pushed herself up and settled on the pew, staring at front of the church. She missed her own church and her priest. Father Thomas would tell her that God never gave them more than they could handle.

She wished God didn't have so much faith in her.

"My name is Brigid. Welcome to Cape Kore."

For someone who has only arrived today, he's remarkably calm and that isn't just a pretense or front put on for the other angels present. He's not happy - he hates being trapped - but he's not agitated at this point.

"I'm Raphael. Thank you for the welcome. I did not mean to interrupt your prayers Brigid. If you wish to continue them, by all means, do so. I'm used to hearing them, and I won't disturb you." Anymore than he had, anyway. He continued to walk around the church, footfalls light, before reaching the alter of the church and stepping up, studying it.

A small smile. Her favorite archangel. "You didn't interrupt them. I find them hard to concentrate on without the cadence of my rosary." She misses the beautiful rosary her father had given her upon her confirmation.

"Are you a deacon back home?" She asks, because he acts very at home within the church, in a way that most weren't, unless they spend a lot of time there.

"Perhaps there is one to be found in this town. I've also seen other make them, if you had twine or cordage, I could show you how." One way or another, there she could have one.

Raphael brushed his fingers over the cloth at the podium. "No, but I have watched over many a flock for a very long time." Occasionally the 'I am an angel of the Lord God' speech was enjoyable to give - not that he had given it to anyone but Donnie in a very long time.

"I would like that. I never learned the art of making them. My mother made a few for friends." But Brigid had been too young to learn, when her mother had died. She still missed the one her father gave her, but she wouldn't worry about it. It was safe in her jewelry box at home.

She cocked her head to the side. The smell of Not Human, covered in human was strong. Her fingers ran along the edge of the pew in front of her.

"Not that many, surely." She whispered. "You barely look old enough to be a deacon."

"It isn't difficult, if you are skilled with your hands or patient." Raphael was certainly the latter. "You'll need about twenty feet of cordage to do a full rosary." He had enjoyed watching the first ones being made, actually. Humans came up with neat ideas occasionally.

He turned to face Brigid, whether by accident or design the light from a window shining brightly over him. "I've watched over humanity since my Father Created them, though I am not the eldest of my brothers."

"I can be -"

She stopped, staring at him. Things suddenly clicked into place. Brigid wasn't an idiot and she was a good Catholic girl. Her eyes widened and she immediately dropped to her knees, crossing herself.

Her eyes dropped to the floor and her breath came fast. The smell of otherness swirled around her.

"I beg pardon, St. Raphael, I meant no offense and wished only the peace of the sanctuary." She whispered the words, folding her hands together in prayer. He would be able to hear her. "Please forgive me."

Her voice shook on the last. God hadn't created angels to be caring or gentle. He'd created them to be avengers, to be soldiers, to be the dealers of death at His command.

Pissing one off was a death sentence. She knew it and prepared herself to be struck down for the blasphemy of familiarity.

Pissing off an archangel was generally a death sentance - but he wasn't even annoyed by the girl. And she was just a girl, really. Old enough to be an adult but not yet there. He had heard the words, the prayer. He crossed the small distance, reaching down to place his right hand atop her head. He doesn't press but he does allow it to have some weight to it. "You didn't offend me child. Have peace, you don't need my forgiveness." He held his hand still for another monent, then removed it and stepped back.

She had always turned to her faith when things were bad. Her mother had died and she'd stayed with her Alpha. The Church had been there to offer comfort. When her father had died, it'd been there too.

The warm comfort of his hand drained tension out of her shoulders. They weren't meant to be gentle, but just as a soldier in a war zone could offer solace, so could an angel.

Brigid closed her eyes, not moving from where she was. "Thank you, St. Raphael." The archangel of animals and children, a favorite of the pack.

Other than the soles in Heaven, it wasn't until Donnie that he had interacted with the faithful in well over a thousand years. It was strange, now that he couldn't even pretend to himself to be faithful to God, to have one crash into his life.

"You're welcome. You needn't kneel, I do not require it." Not generally anyway, and not now.

"O-of course." Brigid pushed herself up and slid back onto the pew where she'd been sitting. Her fingers fidgeted with the frayed edges of her sweatshirt. The air in the church wasn't cold - especially to a werewolf - but there was a slight bit of damp to it.

"Are you - I don't wish to offend, but are you trapped as well?" She had to ask. There were ways to trap an angel - even the bible stated that. There were ways to repel them - lamb's blood over the doorway. For these people, whoever they were, to have trapped an archangel sent a chill down her spine and made her want to curl into a ball and whimper.

He watched, calm and quiet. Raphael was one of the more steady of his brothers, especially given the two here. That though drew a thinning of his lips - Lucifer might be attracted to this one. He'd have to watch.

"For now. It's not offensive, puzzling, perhaps but not offensive." He doubted the girl had the gumption to be offensive. "It's not overly difficult to do - my brothers and I know how to contain one another." And had practiced when they were young, though it always had an air of playfulness. One that was forever broken when Michael cast Lucifer into the Cage.

She cocked her head to the side, listening to the sounds of the town around them. Then, she closed her eyes and opened her senses. Yes, werewolves could sense some supernatural things, but nothing seemed out of place here.

"I thought, at first, they were using mountain ash, but I haven't smelled it anywhere." Brigid didn't bother to hide what she was. There wasn't any point. And she had a feeling that to do so would offend the archangel.

She wanted to ask so many questions. Questions about the truth of the Bible, questions about Raphael himself. But she didn't. Because while she was interested in history, in finding out everything, her fear of archangels was far stronger than her curiosity.

"There are many types of mystical barriers. None of which are prefect - even the best cages have locks." He meant Lucifer's Cage, but he didn't detail it. No reason to, not to her. "It's just a matter of finding them and learning to work them out." He straightened up, shoulders pulled back just slightly, head high. Brigid had no way of seeing his wings, but he was stretching them slightly.

"Werewolves in my world tend to be solitary creatures, unless the Alpha calls otherwise - yours are different. More like our skinwalkers." It was curious, but he found it interesting. After trillions of years, little was new, and new was a welcome distraction to a rebelling archangel standing in a house of God.

"Solitary?" Brigid whispers the word, unable to fathom such a thing. "But being Omega will drive someone insane." It's one of her greatest fears. She suspects that her father's fight with the Alpha had something to do with her not going Omega, though why she can't comprehend. She never would.

"We live in packs, and the Alpha is in charge." She whispers. "Much like wolves." She prefers that comparison. Her history studies have shown her what skinwalkers might be.

Her fingers fidget with her sleeves.

"At home, mountain ash creates a barrier that is as strong as the intent of the wielder. I've known some to be able to hold back entire packs of kanima." Well, that's what the chronicles had said.

"Most do, eventually. Be careful here - there is a hunter from my world, and hunters tend to not make distinction between various types of beings. Supernatural beings are supernatural beings, and all are bad, and they most have a shoot first, ask questions later philosophy. On the nights you shift, be mindful." Because he had decided that Brigid was his, and he would smite over things that were his, and that would cause trouble for everyone. Not that he minded causing trouble for Dean.

"Skinwalkers, at least ours, are dogs. They tend to stay in packs, under a local alpha, with the Alpha communicating telepathically to all of them. Werewolves also have an Alpha but they act more like coyotes than wolves. When Mother created them, I think she was a little confused." He remembered that, it had been interesting to watch.

"There are only a few things which would bind me here, one certainly isn't in use." Or Raphael would have summoned a hurricane to extinguish the flames. "Blood sigils would as well, but I haven't seen any."

She shivers and clenches her hands together. "A hunter?" It's almost a squeak.

Without the protection of the pack, she's exposed, in danger. Brigid swallows hard and closes her eyes. An immediate prayer is thought of - asking for help in protecting herself. Normally, they don't have any problems, but there have been incidents of hunters simply going after those they think might become a danger. Something she could definitely be since there was no Alpha to cleave to.

Blood sigils. Like the ones used to repel the Angels and protect the first born sons. "Like Passover?" She has to ask, to distract herself from the terror of the thought of a hunter being here.

Who could it be?

"Yes." He doesn't add that Dean has killed werewolves before. Partly it's because it doesn't matter, partly because he isn't trying to frighten her.

"Something similar. These would be done in human blood." And be much more powerful.

A hunter. Here. She's going to have to keep her wits about her and just the thought that -

"Dean." He'd lied to her. He'd lied to her about being a monk and poured holy water on her. He'd lied and used the Church to do it.

Her eyes flash blue very briefly as she tries to rein it in. Her nails grow briefly and she takes a few moments of deep breathing to pull it under control.

"I haven't smelled any blood on anything. Not in the amount a sigil would take." She's pulling it back, but she needs the distraction.

"Yes. His entire family, in fact." He confirms it, but doesn't add anything. Dean was very low on his list of people Raphael liked, and had been for some time. Let him reap some of the headache he visited on Raphael.

"I doubt you would be able to get close to them - I can't fly to boundary, likely being that close would negate your senses." Donnie was a little more out of shape than he looked, apparently. That had been a long couple of walks.

The growl escapes her for the briefest moment before she pulls everything back in. She grinds her teeth together, and forces the wolf back under control. She doesn't dare risk challenging a hunter. There isn't anyone here who could offer her help and partnership.

Well, except an Archangel, but she would not ask that.

"The smell carries furthest." She sighs. "But I will be respectful of your wishes." Brigid wouldn't do anything that he did not want her to. She obeys.

Raphael hums under his breath, a pleased sound. "Once you approach the boundary, any ability which is not mundane human in nature is cut off - if I am unable to get close enough by flight, you won't be able to get close enough to scent. And there are dangers in the woods, which you should not face unprepared."

It was less about his wishes and more about being protective of something which had caught his interest. If he thought for a split second she would be able to scent out what it was that would keep them trapped, he'd have ordered her out to find it. But there was no reason to waste the energy.

She nods. And there are ways to hide a scent. She knows that. She's run across it before. "I've heard of the things in the woods." Her teeth worry her bottom lip for a moment. "I've smelled the big predators. And their kills." Which had bothers her, but she's never been a fan of the scent of entrails, no matter how much she can ignore it.

"I -" She stops herself, frowning for a moment. "Is there anyone else that I should be wary of?" Brigid will obey any order given to her. And what better Alpha could be asked for than St. Raphael.

"I noticed some as well. I do trust you know to be wary." He wouldn't order her to stay away from the predators, but he did trust her to have the sense not to court trouble.

"Some of my siblings are here. They are unlikely to raise a hand to you, but if you run into them and feel threatened, call out to me." Lucifer was the only one who was older but a truce should mean he wasn't likely to torture someone his brothers had taken an interest in. Unless they happened to be named 'Winchester'. "There are a few demons as well. I would stay far away from them." He didn't know which demons, as he'd never met Crowley or Meg, only knew of them from Chuck's writing.

Her eyes jerk upward and her back straightens. It's weird to hear that St. Raphael has trust in her. That's just not possible! Well, possible, but not probable.

"There are other angels here?" She's surprised by that, simply because she hasn't smelled them at all around town. Of course, she's not been out and about much. "And demons?"

She's immediately going over her lore. There isn't much in the chronicles, not that she can remember. "Can I... Is there a way to keep them away?" The demons.

I had a dream but I called it a plan

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