Sleepāitās a luxury that I, for one, have forgotten long ago. Sleep is for those that have time, and though I have ample; it feels like itās slipping through my fingers like liquid. Perhaps Iām just too cynical for my own goodā¦perhaps itās because Iām just exhausted in regards of my mental state. Or perhaps, Iām losing my mind. The latter seems more plausible to me, to be honest. What sane man, let alone vampire, would live this long? Most would think that Iād be pleased with my life, thus far. Why wouldnāt they? I have power, wealth, and fear on my side. However, itās not all just lollygagging. Everything I do, I do for them; my brothers. After the demise of our parents, it was left up to me to pick up the pieces of this family. I have sacrificed my happiness just to ensure that they could live without want. To end my life would be the only selfish act that Iāve ever done. There were times where it had crossed my mind. Iād be awake, as per usual, and Iād be watching the sunās light spill through the window as I hide within the shadowsā¦and then Iād get the urge to just walk into the light. Before I even motion to do so, Iād imagine what it would feel like; I could picture the bubbling of my flesh, smell the revolting stench of burning meat, and hear the pained screams coming from my own mouthā¦and yet, as I allow my imagination to roam free; I feel a sense of peace despite the agony. Itās as if, Iāve finally earned the right to rest. I reiterate, perhaps Iāve gone utterly madā¦
Castiel returned his quill back to its inkwell as he stared down at the parchment without an expression on his face. He leaned back in his armchair, closing his eyes as the faint melody of rain colliding with the earth sounded outside those very walls. He hadnāt slept. He never really did anymore. There was too much to do; too much to plan. Sleep was just in the way. The stoic vampire dragged a slender fingers through his wheat-colored curls, sighing in a mixture of tepidity and utter exhaustion. The dark circles underneath his oceanic hues were protuberant, contrasting with his ashen complexion; expressing his inner weariness. Castiel tuned into the sharp, distant sounds that surrounded him; from the faint crackle of the castle settling into the damp soil to the soft patter of the rain. Focusing, he allowed those sounds to consume him. This was as close to sleep as he was going to get any time soon; just listening and becoming one with the noises. It forced his body to relax, no longer tense and erect, but instead somewhat slouched and unperturbed. In this state of tranquility, Castiel was able to ādream,ā at least he liked to call it dreaming since he hasnāt truly dreamt in over eight hundred years. It was really just replaying memories; events that he missed or wished he could change. In this case it was the former. With the soft tune of raindrops, Castiel slipped into the past, feeling that sense of calm that he rarely experienced. Soon the rain outside morphed; spilling into his memories as he thought of his childhood.
It was a rainy night, much like the current weather as Castielās small feet pattered against the cool, polished marble floor. His cheeks were rosy from the cold and his golden locks were tousled; haphazardly facing multiple directions as he meandered throughout the estate in boredom. He remembered whistling a tuneless rhythm that he could have sworn he heard before and-ā¦
An abrupt tap on the door of his study broke Castielās concentration. His eyes snapped open and heāonce againāsighed. Sitting up until his posture was perfect. His serene expression hardened considerably and his muscles instantly tightened. He could smell the sweet perfume of her essence through the wooden barrier. āYou may enter, Tanzy.ā he said, gruffly.