Fishblight Mire gold [m]

Castiel would lie to himself if he was to suggest that Armand was not beautiful. He was delicate, shapely, enchanting in appearance and the mystery of his silence  - something Castiel found in so few people - was equally baffling and comforting. Castiel had always been a man of few words at most times, choosing actions over the easily confusing lilt of voice and song. To wonder if Armand was similar to him only made him want to know the man more and he couldn't help the way his brow furrowed for a moment. 

It was a struggle to pull his blue eyes away, feeling suddenly exposed as he knew it was probably easy to be caught watching as the man's coat yielded hues he'd never seen before - for a brief moment he was so bright and so brilliant it even outshined Winchester. Win was rough around the edges, darkness lurking in him that drew Castiel in like a moth to a flame. It hurt, though, to think of him, to ponder him, and Castiel had never allowed himself to drown the way he longed to. 

Call it penance, call it his own perdition, but he was chained and bound. The sounds drew his eyes again and Castiel paused, frowning as he looked over the man. "Relax, let me help." He offered, needing nothing for himself - he could tell the man had been through a great deal. "I will return." He didn't wait - didn't let himself, lest he make an even more damning mistake in being around the man - and took off to find some herbs to help settle his stomach and a small meal. 

When he came back he only hoped the male was still present, the small bundle of plants held carefully in his teeth along with the hare.