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sing choirs of angels, sing in exaltation
[The feed clicks on clumsily, jumbled and clearly in the hands of someone who doesn’t know how it works. After a few seconds it comes to rest in midair pointed at a stern-faced woman in a distressingly stylish pantsuit. There’s little expression on her face but cold harshness, the kind of severe near-blankness of cold fury. Only three people in the world know her well enough to read in her expression that something is deeply wrong. Only one person could see how rattled and scared she is under the anger.]
Whoever’s keeping me here is making a big mistake.
[Her deep voice doesn’t waver at all, not even in the slightest. Raphael’s mind is racing: she suspects Castiel’s doing, given how obviously bloated on power he was, but calling him out by name seems suicidally reckless at this point. She can’t escape. That much is obvious. She’s tried flying out over and over and over again until she exhausted herself utterly and had to return, Grace bruised and wings hurting. She draws herself up, all wounded pride and narrowed eyes.]
I will not be caged like an animal.
Whoever’s keeping me here is making a big mistake.
[Her deep voice doesn’t waver at all, not even in the slightest. Raphael’s mind is racing: she suspects Castiel’s doing, given how obviously bloated on power he was, but calling him out by name seems suicidally reckless at this point. She can’t escape. That much is obvious. She’s tried flying out over and over and over again until she exhausted herself utterly and had to return, Grace bruised and wings hurting. She draws herself up, all wounded pride and narrowed eyes.]
I will not be caged like an animal.