[ Cas stares at the stained glass for a moment. He remembers it - how could he not? Tries not to think about it - less for Dean's sake, more for his own. That memory comes with being bound to no vessel, being righteous light and a being of pure divinity and celestial intent, descending upon Hell to save Dean Winchester.
He'd... rather not recall.
Cas tears his eyes awayand moves towards the cabinet. His hand trembles when it closes around the bottle. ]
You, uh. You know I don't do pain... well.
[ He remembers his first broken bone well. Cas still struggles with sensation overload, with feeling too much of things he was never meant to experience the sensation of, and his learning curve turned out to be way too steep.
It's how he got onto the painkillers in the first place, needing two pills where humans would need one, just to dull the ache of existing.
Still, he takes the bottle and returns to the couch, puts the bottle on the table and drops his jacket unceremoniously.
The shirt... he pulls over his head, it doesn't button in the front, and there's a sharp intake of breath that flares out his nostrils and his ribcage for a moment, the movement painful on the medical attention he did apparently receive.
The motion also receives something along his back. Curving along sharply defined shoulder blades... antlers, that almost look like stumps of wings lone gone. Those... are currently bleeding, rivulets down Cas' back like feathers plucked.
The pain hasn't even registered to the point where he'd have mentioned it - he does tend to be bad at identifying severe pain beyond a general 'everything hurts', though. And given the way he died so very recently, he's just assumed his back hurts because of what happened to his body before arriving here, not after. ]
cw for blood
He'd... rather not recall.
Cas tears his eyes awayand moves towards the cabinet. His hand trembles when it closes around the bottle. ]
You, uh. You know I don't do pain... well.
[ He remembers his first broken bone well. Cas still struggles with sensation overload, with feeling too much of things he was never meant to experience the sensation of, and his learning curve turned out to be way too steep.
It's how he got onto the painkillers in the first place, needing two pills where humans would need one, just to dull the ache of existing.
Still, he takes the bottle and returns to the couch, puts the bottle on the table and drops his jacket unceremoniously.
The shirt... he pulls over his head, it doesn't button in the front, and there's a sharp intake of breath that flares out his nostrils and his ribcage for a moment, the movement painful on the medical attention he did apparently receive.
The motion also receives something along his back. Curving along sharply defined shoulder blades... antlers, that almost look like stumps of wings lone gone. Those... are currently bleeding, rivulets down Cas' back like feathers plucked.
The pain hasn't even registered to the point where he'd have mentioned it - he does tend to be bad at identifying severe pain beyond a general 'everything hurts', though. And given the way he died so very recently, he's just assumed his back hurts because of what happened to his body before arriving here, not after. ]