”It would matter.” Castiel often viewed his own immortality (and repeated resurrections) as being more curse than anything else, but of late, he had found good reasons to guard his life more carefully. It was not so much that it was precious to him, as it was that it was precious to others, and he loved them enough to want to endure. “Perhaps you have not been together long, but love is love. It does not simply vanish.”
That being said, though, he still could only give a soft huff of commiseration. “Many. I have a friend named Lyn who is in something of the same position. I don’t know if she regrets her immortality, but I know that often living with the hurts is— hard. Very hard. But,” he added, “there’s still joy to be found to. She likes truffles and scholarly pursuits. A small thing, but a pleasure, yes? What do you like, besides her?”
Leo knew that–by the Guardians he knew. The embers of his love for a woman in a different century still flickered. Still, the one who loved him was not exactly human–and semi-immortal like he was–still.
Scratching the textile weaving of scars about his nape, he tried to think of what he liked. It was not that he did not know what they were, but rather how to phrase them without sounding like a lunatic. But surely the guardian knew what he was, did he? “I like sitting in parks like these,” he said, gesturing to the greenery around them. “I like how the earth feels. I also like to spar with weapons. All sorts.” He went silent, and when he spoke again, his voice was barely audible. “I like to dance with her. Feeling the music rise and fall and swaying to it. Trying new moves. Only with her."
