Sharp blue eyes track the God as Thor went on the offensive. āIām trying to buy you time.ā He informs the other calmly as his attention shifts to the Destroyer. āFocus on your task. Iāll be fine.ā And he would be as long as the end result was a victory.
Apparently the creation isnāt fond of being ignored as it raises a fist and brings it down full-force into the pavement. The shock waves weave cracks into the pavement but Castiel is gone before the disruption of air can unbalance him.
Re-appearing above the creation, he arcs the angel blade down and slams it into the majestic helmet though it doesnāt get far. His free hand presses against the bottom of the handle as he struggles to dig the blade deeper. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a gauntlet raise towards him and quickly the angel moves to teleport.
The lapel of his coat is snagged and as though heās nothing more than a toy, the creation hurls him away. A quick twist to unleash his grace and Castiel manages to stop himself before he hits an abandoned semi truck though he doesnāt get much of a chance to recover before the sound of screeching metal catches his attention.
Barreling through the wasteland of abandoned cars is the Destroyer and Castiel quickly spreads his wings and heads up to the overpass nearby. Touching down, he looks down at the creation while planning his next move. Heād have to try a sigil. Something heād have to create as nothing he currently knew of could stop something so powerful.
The Destroyer turns and looks directly at him before pushing off in a giant leap that easily reaches the bridge. As Castiel backs away, he figures out heāll have to tie the sigil to Earth instead of Heaven to make it more effective. As he dodges the fist swinging towards him, he determines his purpose of the sigil and mentally struggles with compiling it while dodging the volley of attacks. Grace would have to be used instead of blood. And he knew it wouldnāt stop the creation completely, but it should buy Thor the time needed to end the battle once and for all.
Disappearing once more, he reappears on the other end of the bridge and kneels down, using his angel blade to carve the sigil into the cement. He can hear the heavy footsteps but doesnāt look up, too focused on getting it exactly right. Once done he brings up the blade to his hand and, after taking a breath because digging into his own grace is going to hurt, he pierces his palm until he sees the celestial blue light.
Quickly he presses his palm to the sigil as he senses the shadow approach. The grace alights the sigil and the angel lifts his head to see a hand outstretched towards him thought itās stopped inches from touching him. Much too close for comfort. Already he can sense the sigils power wavering and he springs for the railing of the overpass, leaping over it and landing on the street. He needed to get back to Thor and see how the other was progressing. His trap might hold for another three minutes if he was lucky.
A storm had begun to brew.
Static clung to the air, sparking, uncomfortable, the wind as it blew, harsher, stirring Thorās golden hair, scented heavy with ozone. There was a sense of potential, of beginning, of danger, as the Aesir began his work, eyes never leaving his foe, brow creased in concentration. Often so jovial, soft hearted and genial, it was a significant change to see them then, to see how the lighting that was to come was already brewing in his gaze, a darkened blue-grey that was equal parts enraged and opportunistic, roaming over the massive armor for slight spots of weakness, relentless. Seemly ham-fisted in times of peace, doing things only in full degrees and painting action and emotion with large, ungainly brush-strokes, it was fascinating to see the training in the man, the way strategy churned, laid out before him not as something clean and ordered as a chess board but a living, shifting understanding build of nerve and sinew, shifting upon an instant.
He thought with his body, and in that sense was his true intelligence. Words were never his gift, especially when touched by emotion, too crude a tool to be much use save when he was calm enough for true consideration. His true intelligence was in motion, was in the instant, and the now. Like the storm itself, he generated charismatic, kinetic energy, seeming to thrive in the gusts of wind, to stand slightly taller as the clouds began to boil and to snake over the sky. In the darkened shadow of those broiling heavens, he seemed ancient, strange, something made of power and fury, a being that summoned the forces that others quailed at, that brought the thunder rumbling through the atmosphere like the crackling growl of a living beast.
As Castiel faces the Destroyer, Thor concentrated, keeping his footing as the aftershocks rocked the Earth, sending tremors through him, the icy rain that had begun to fall plastering his light hair, blurring his field of vision. Sparks had begun to form from the warhammer, darting and sizzling as the temperature dropped even further, the thunderheads darkening, static intensifying. A jagged flash of lightning, small, arched across the sky, brilliant, lighting them up in a snap-shot, and Thor watched in horror as the other man, the man with abilities that he still could only guess at, was tossed like a toy, screeching into metal, and sudden fear, concern, lanced into his heart, surely no one could survive, not even one as hardy as this man seemed---
And yet he was, running the Destroyer away, keeping it occupied, and there was no time to try to decipher the truth of who his comrade in arms was, no time for the fierce swelling of joy that marked him that he was not alone in being not of this plane, for surely even his Midgardian friends had not the same abilities as this man displayed. He took the time that was generously given him, building the charge as the lightning intensified, arching bright, catching in his hair and in his eyes. Water---water, was a conductor. Immune to the lightning that he generated, if he could get a clear shot---
They were figures upon the wasted horizon, too far, too far, and although he could see parts of what was happening---
Bring it here, Thor thought, his entire concentration steely, ready.
It was time for his Fatherās watchdog to be removed.
