[There are a great number of things that Crowley regrets, both in the immediate sense and over the course of his entire existence. Right now, his main regret is not choosing something stronger than tea to have on hand, even if adding alcohol to this mix is likely a terrible idea.
But for all his reluctance, he's trying not to regret this. It's going to be awful, and they're both going to hate it, and it's probably going to make things really fucking awkward for the next few days, but he believes it's the right decision.]
Going right for it, can't blame you for that.
[The feigned insouciance likely isn't a surprise. Aziraphale hasn't actually seen him around other demons, but he knows him well enough to know that he tends to play up the not-giving-a-shit, when he's scared.
The worst part is the little pull of a compulsion, similar to how it felt with the lights, and he only hates it because he wants this to be entirely freely given. But maybe it makes it a little easier, to just give in and let the Eye drag out what it wants.]
I could tell you about the beginning, when Hell was still sulphur and ash, right after the War. Can't say I remember much of Heaven, really, so I suppose most of my memories start there, as a bloody... shapeless thing, 'cause falling burnt away whatever forms we'd had, made a mess of them, even if they weren't physical.
[He suspects he couldn't explain this to a human, but he thinks Aziraphale will understand. They might not have bodies, in Heaven and Hell, but they have forms, there's substance to how they appeared to each other.]
We pulled ourselves together as best we could, but the in-fighting had already started. Made it smarter to shape yourself into something with claws or teeth, not the sort of thing you ran into in Heaven, really. [He rubs at his jaw, idly noting that he ought to shave later. Focusing on physical sensation helps distract him from what he's saying.] At first, the fighting wasn't about much more than being angry and hurt and scared, so they'd... so they'd find something smaller or weaker, and hurt it to make themselves feel better.
Not sure I can explain what it's like to lose your grace, I don't expect it's the same as what you're feeling here, 'cause it's just an absence, right? This was more that something had been torn out of you, and you have to fill it with something, don't you? Hate's the easiest, but back then, no one could touch God with their hate, couldn't get the angels, either, so it got turned on whatever was closest. You learn how to fill yourself up with hate, and you learn how to make hate something that hurts other people, so that it doesn't hurt you.
[For all the use of you and we, there's a detachment to how he's speaking, like none of this involved him, but that drops slightly when he finally looks at Aziraphale.]
Then it was about power. Once Lucifer was done licking his wounds, he set himself at the top, and everyone else fought over how they'd fall in line. Dagon's got so many fucking teeth. [He exhales a harsh breath and glances away again. He hadn't meant to say that.] I was never much interested in power, but I knew better than to end up at the lowest rung, so I did what I had to. It wasn't always my best work, but it was effective.
[He misses his fangs, he realizes with a sudden sense of clarity. He misses having a last line of defense.]
Anyway. That's Hell. Or the start of it, if nothing else.
no subject
But for all his reluctance, he's trying not to regret this. It's going to be awful, and they're both going to hate it, and it's probably going to make things really fucking awkward for the next few days, but he believes it's the right decision.]
Going right for it, can't blame you for that.
[The feigned insouciance likely isn't a surprise. Aziraphale hasn't actually seen him around other demons, but he knows him well enough to know that he tends to play up the not-giving-a-shit, when he's scared.
The worst part is the little pull of a compulsion, similar to how it felt with the lights, and he only hates it because he wants this to be entirely freely given. But maybe it makes it a little easier, to just give in and let the Eye drag out what it wants.]
I could tell you about the beginning, when Hell was still sulphur and ash, right after the War. Can't say I remember much of Heaven, really, so I suppose most of my memories start there, as a bloody... shapeless thing, 'cause falling burnt away whatever forms we'd had, made a mess of them, even if they weren't physical.
[He suspects he couldn't explain this to a human, but he thinks Aziraphale will understand. They might not have bodies, in Heaven and Hell, but they have forms, there's substance to how they appeared to each other.]
We pulled ourselves together as best we could, but the in-fighting had already started. Made it smarter to shape yourself into something with claws or teeth, not the sort of thing you ran into in Heaven, really. [He rubs at his jaw, idly noting that he ought to shave later. Focusing on physical sensation helps distract him from what he's saying.] At first, the fighting wasn't about much more than being angry and hurt and scared, so they'd... so they'd find something smaller or weaker, and hurt it to make themselves feel better.
Not sure I can explain what it's like to lose your grace, I don't expect it's the same as what you're feeling here, 'cause it's just an absence, right? This was more that something had been torn out of you, and you have to fill it with something, don't you? Hate's the easiest, but back then, no one could touch God with their hate, couldn't get the angels, either, so it got turned on whatever was closest. You learn how to fill yourself up with hate, and you learn how to make hate something that hurts other people, so that it doesn't hurt you.
[For all the use of you and we, there's a detachment to how he's speaking, like none of this involved him, but that drops slightly when he finally looks at Aziraphale.]
Then it was about power. Once Lucifer was done licking his wounds, he set himself at the top, and everyone else fought over how they'd fall in line. Dagon's got so many fucking teeth. [He exhales a harsh breath and glances away again. He hadn't meant to say that.] I was never much interested in power, but I knew better than to end up at the lowest rung, so I did what I had to. It wasn't always my best work, but it was effective.
[He misses his fangs, he realizes with a sudden sense of clarity. He misses having a last line of defense.]
Anyway. That's Hell. Or the start of it, if nothing else.