And my motives used to be so pure.

[The video opens with a burst of static. After a second, it lowers itself to vaguely tolerable white noise. The video is still entirely static, though Castiel's voice can be heard above the drone - low and pained, emotional where he's usually expressionless.]

You don't exist. Angels don't have souls. You are just an effect of this place is having on me. The strength of the magic to affect an angel...

[A pause. The static and white noise clears. The video reveals... fingers. He may have turned it on by accident. He fidgers with it, and now you can see his face! Which looks haggard and awful, by the way. He turns away from the camera, staring at something unseen. Every few seconds, his whole surroundings shift, like he's teleporting every others step. He keeps looking over his shoulder, checking for his pursues. Eventually he steps and stares back at them with haunted eyes.]

What I did to you....I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I....I was so dumb, and foolish, and stupid, choking on my own ego... I deserve to die. I deserve oblivion. I know! But I keep... I keep coming back. He wants me for something, don't you understand? How can I be expected to do something if you're still here?

[The video drops into white noise and static again. Castiel's voice sounds like a ragged pant. Even though video's gone, his voice is clear.]

That isn't true. That isn't the case and you know it. You know it. Father can't be wrong. He gave the planet to them. He loved them and they loved Him. And what they did, they did for love of Him. And what I did, I did for love of Him! To find Him, and to save them.....

But...

You're wrong! I know you're wrong! I know it like I know He is there!

I know, I know....

[For a second, the video returns despite the loud static. Castiel looks focused, a cold kind of discipline in his eye. Then, the white noise becomes an unbearable whine before the transmission abruptly ends.]

[SPAM]

[Castiel looks a little drunk - spending half his time staggering around and the other half taking long, flying steps. Occasionally, he looks over his shoulder and shouts things in a mixture of language - English, Aramaic, Enochian, Italian. What feels like static electricity is radiating off him. He's pacing around the hotel, never staying in one spot for long. Whenever he does see another creature, though, he looks like a deer in headlights.]

((OOC: Castiel broke his communicator, so he won't be able to reply to any communications for a while. Spam away!))

Can you imagine what it must be like to be an ant?

Problems that humanity deals with would seem irrelevant - the warming of the planet and all it's related consequences, the population explosion and the subsequent issues, including overcrowding and famine, the expansion of information, and the overwhelming perseverance of human violence. But there would be other problems - like the catastrophe of the appearance of an anteater or another predator animal. There would be tasks like to gather food. And there would be nothing but the colony and the queen.

Now imagine if an ant were to become a human. How difficult it would be to grapple with basic bodily functions, and the variety of emotions and chemical responses each action and reaction brings. Even humans must learn to walk - can you imagine if an ant tried to learn to be bipedal? I imagine it would be a task more monumental than for a human to enter space.

It's difficult to think outside your boundaries, no matter what you start as. Difficult to understand something or someone on a scale dimensions different than yours.

This is how I feel the Admiral sees us.

[PRIVATE to Ivy]

How would you feel about beehives in the greenhouse? I think they would benefit the plants greatly.

[PRIVATE to the ADMIRAL]

Would you permit beehives to be added to the greenhouse?

[PRIVATE to DRACULA]

I'm sorry that I killed you.

[There is an angel on the deck.]

[Well, not that you can tell. It's a man in a trenchcoat, a cheap suit, and a crooked tie. He's staring up into space, and then he looks over the long deck of the barge. Finally, he turns and faces the camera. He looks like he could use a nap.]

It's smaller than I expected.

It seems like whenever you sign up to do something......you're expected, immediately, to know how to do it, no matter what the scope. Maybe even the larger the scope, the less instruction you're given. Maybe that's intention. You should be expected to know how to live your life, but a simple ritual comes with easy instructions.

[He shakes his head, annoyed with himself.]

I....That was the wrong impression. My name is Castiel. I'm a warden.