[ ooc: The song Cas is playing is
this one. ]
[glow=red]
· Gymnasium » Residential Area ·[/glow]
The strong beat of the music vibrated through his muscles and bones, and his body was melting and becoming part of the sound. He was breathless, but he did not care. His skin was drenched with a shimmer of sweat, but he did not mind. His muscles were quivering after two hours of workout, but his need to move kept him going. He was strong, he was steady. Within the sound, he was free. Within the steps he did not have to think. Within the short illusion contemporary dance offered him, he was not Castiel Roux, a boy forcefully trained to become a high class escort that held no free will. Within the music he was just a bare spirit; a passionate fire burning, expressing his silent feelings that were hidden away under a lock and key, and deceitful smile.
As he moved to the beat, his body almost fluid with its agility, the steps choreographed to perfection, this was possibly the only moment of the day you could see Castiel wearing an actually serious expression. He was concentrated despite knowing exactly what he was doing, his body had memorized every move long ago, aiming for the perfection where he had set the bar for himself. Cas was possibly the harshest trainer on himself unlike any other; if he did one move wrong, he got frustrated and made himself do it over and over again until he got it right, relentlessly without allowing himself a break. A fighter is not someone who never fails; a fighter is someone who never quits.
The music was blasting from the wireless stereos that were connected to the Pelly on his wrist, playing the song from his personal music library of old classics. His steps had been chasing the dawn, and the sunrise had now lit up the gymnasium with a bright morning light that flickered in from the vast windows. Others might have found it odd to start the dance practice in the dark, but Castiel had been in the House before he had even turned his first year. He knew the place like his own pockets, where everything was, how many steps away the door was with his eyes closed, what floorboards creaked. He did not need light to see, and to be honest, he had learned to find the natural light to be far more soothing than the man made light. His eyes would get used to the darkness when he woke up earlier than his peers and many others half past five in the morning, and he did not want any curious stragglers to come and see who would be using the gym before sunrise if he used the lights. It was the only time of the day Castiel knew the gym was going to be empty, and sometimes he simply wanted to dance alone even if he did get to dance in class. No curious eyes, no voices, no interruptions. Just the steady sound of his own heartbeat and breathing, and the music that echoed in the vast space. Just Castiel and the music.
As he sunk on his knees and fell back, catching his own weight on his arms and arched his back, head thrown backwards and neck stretched out like a dog offering it in submission, the last notes of the song made him sway. When the song would end, he was supposed to use his back muscles to lift himself to sit upright again end up in a sitting on the floor, cradling himself, arms wrapped around his body and head bent down. But Cas never got that far, because the sound of music was interrupted with the most loudest, irritating alarm clock sound that was blowing from the stereo system. The sweat on his palms made his hands more slippery on the floor, and surprised by the sudden unexpected noise that was not part of the song he had been replaying over and over again the whole morning, his hand slipped and Cas fell on his back on the floor very ungracefully. He barely avoided hitting the back of his head, but the force was enough to knock the air out of his lungs momentarily.
"...That hurt." Cas mumbled out loud, but sounded surprisingly calm about it. After a second or two gathering his bearings and listening to the ungodly sound of the alarm clock that was telling him it was 8 AM sharp, the dark haired boy lifted his wrist up to peer at the Pelly and touched the screen to make the alarm stop. Complete silence fell upon the gym, and the suddenness of it was almost suffocating. There was a buzzing in his ears as he let his arm fall on the floor and he stared at the ceiling, expression unreadable.
It was another day beginning in the House. His fun time was over now. It was time to get back to reality and forget the freedom the dancing offered him. It was a fraud anyway. He was an Angel, but his flight feathers were clipped. He would never fly, not really. His freedom had been traded for a gilded cage. Many of the residents refused to see the bars that confided them in, pretending that they were not there and they were actually okay with it. But Castiel refused to unsee them. He refused to forget that he was trapped, and seeing the walls and gates that would never open for him and the videos of the outside world would only make him work harder to get out.
But at the same time, he was also grateful for being in. Because if he would have not been here... He would have been one broken bird. Either killed by his parents, possibly his birth mother, and if he survived, he would have probably followed after his father's steps and become an addict. Possibly even a drug addict. Joined gangs. Been killed on the street and nobody would have ever known he existed or miss him.
It was complicated. His feelings towards the House. He was aware that it saved him, but at the same time it turned him into a slave; dehumanized him, turning him into an object or like a cattle. One day, and the day would not be too far away now, he would be losing the last worth as a human being by having to let a woman or a man buy a night with him, touch him, taint him. All for money. He had always known this, and he had always known that it would happen. It was inevitable. In this House, there was no love. Just like there had not been love in the house he lived before this one. There was just the daily routine of pretending everything was okay even if it was not. The younger kids did not yet quite understand what they were to do in the future, and Cas was almost jealous of their ignorance. The others his age... They knew. And they pretended. They all pretended like they had worth and that they had a choice.
Even if the truth was ugly enough that nobody wanted to say it out loud.
That they were all just high class whores.
And Cas pretended too. He smiled, he laughed, and whenever the chance, he rather tried to forget. It was the only way to stay sane. Because this body was never truly his. It was meant to be for the highest bidder. And even if someone kept claiming nobody's worth could not be measured in money... they were wrong. In the House they did that effortlessly. In human trafficking they had no problems doing just that. Money would remind you that you never truly belonged to yourself and everything could be bought. Even lives. Welcome to the 23
rd century.
And that was why he danced. In music, he became part of the sound. He had no body, as it was lost to the beat. If he had no body... It could not be sold.
Castiel was aware that his logic was more than a little warped and even if it did sound alright in theory, in practical terms that still needed some working. There would be a day when even music would not keep the hands at bay that wanted to touch and taste his skin.
Castiel Roux did not hate the House. But he did not lie to himself that it was fine either.
The brown eyes stared at the ceiling, for a few more minutes, before Cas finally decided to stand up. He should get up and take a quick swim to freshen up before he would go back to his Fallen's room to wake the guy up. So he discarded his black sleeveless hoodie on the floor, along with his grey jersey pants. As a smart young lad, Cas had worn his swimming trunks underneath as per usual. This was after all part of the morning routine, and been for couple of years now. Even if he was rather casual about everything, he did not fancy someone waltzing in and seeing his family jewels.
Cas took a few running steps and threw himself into the pool. Who cared about acting mature when you were alone anyway? He was only eighteen, he had all the rights to still act like a kid every now and again. When he surfaced, Cas wiped the dark mane off his face and simply enjoyed the cool water against his skin, cooling his overworked muscles. It felt nice, so he splashed around in the pool, taking few slow swimming motions and pretending like he was actually going to swim, before simply giving up and ending up floating on his back in the middle of the pool and pretending he was a starfish. All he was missing was that his black swimming trunks should have been green with big purple flowers and he would have been a perfect Patrick. Maybe he should shop ones online?
The Pelly on his wrist that was build water resistant (modern technology was kinda awesome like that) informed him soon enough that it was time to get out and face the music. Or wake up and smell the coffee. Or... well you get the idea. Reluctantly, Cas dragged himself off the pool and staggered his tired feet into showers in the corner, washing himself clean from chlorine with shampoo and soap. Once he was done, Cas closed the shower and ignored the stand in drying option that it was offering; he could have been dry within a minute. But Cas rather enjoyed the fresh feeling after shower and would rather let his hair be dried in time by itself and with a towel. So he picked one fresh towel from the shelf and rubbed his body dry, and then the excess water from his hair swimming trunks. After that he exited the shower area and went to pick up his discarded clothes from the floor, pulling on his sleeveless hoodie to cover his naked upper body. However he decided against wearing his grey jerseys because his swimming trunks were still really moist. It would look like he wet himself if he wore the pants over them. So he simply threw the pants over his shoulder and made his way out of the gym and into the outdoors.
Castiel was not wearing any shoes, but he did not mind. He liked the feeling of the paved ground and grass under his bare feet. If there was something he liked about the House, it was the gardens. The earthy smell was fresh and morning dew was cool against his toes, raising goosebumps on his legs. But it was alright, mornings like these were what made Cas feel more alive. One should find the enjoyment in the small things given his situation.
The youngblood made his way into the Residential Area, slipping in as quietly from the doors as he could. People were awake already mostly, he knew, but he did not want them realizing he was up before they were and off somewhere on his own. Cas had managed to remain discreet about his early morning practices so far, and he was not going to bring it up for public notion now either. He was aware that some people were very interested in his comings and goings, and sometimes it was tad bit irritating when people swarmed around him like a curious buzzing bees. He just wanted privacy, and that was hard earned in the House when you were locked in with numerous people where everyone knew everyone. And sometimes people knew your own business better than you did your own.
The first thing he did was to go to the coffee maker in the small kitchen area. It was not like it was meant to actually prepare meals, because there was a dining area just for that. It just had the small basic stuff that kept the people happy; a coffee maker for the ones that needed the caffeine acutely, a microwave for popcorn whenever some groups were having a movie night, a little cabinet for storing some basic dry food snacks and cans, a small fridge for drinks that the staff kept stocked. A fruit bowl and some bread in a box. That was about it. You could not really even call it a kitchen, because it did not even have a stove or an oven. He guessed that the staff were afraid the residents would accidentally burn themselves and that cause scars that would devalue them, or worse, burn the whole place down with their nonexistent cooking skills. Because lets face it, they were all so damn pampered that they did not even know how to prepare cup noodles without a manual behind the packaging.
Cas started preparing coffee. A large patch, because he knew other residents who enjoyed a cup of coffee before the day officially started for them would appreciate it when there was some ready. Once the coffee maker was dripping the black liquid into the glass pot, Cas leaned against the counter to wait and listened the sounds in the house. He wiped the wet locks of his mohawk back, trying to untangle the knots with his fingers.