(log) march catch-all

[demonicmiracle]

Who: crowley + others
When: throughout the month
Where: all kinds of places
Summary: a collection of various threads so I don't spam the comm
Warnings: Gonna be a dead body in at least one thread, will update with others if necessary

Comments

🧜🏽‍♀️ katrina

[demonicmiracle]

[Crowley isn't especially eager to go out exploring on behalf of the ADI, not after he got trapped in a bloody sand dune the last time, and had the shit kicked out of him the time before that, but he grits his teeth and agrees to it despite himself. He's put up with worse for Hell, and they didn't even pay him.

So here he is, at the trailhead, hands shoved into his pockets and looking for all the world like he'd rather be anywhere but where he is right now. He almost feels bad for the woman they've paired him up with.]

Ready to get this over with?

[twicelost]

[ Oh, she's ready. She's wearing clothes suitable for what amounts to a hike in chilly weather, and she'd got her spear safely strapped in the netting that wraps around her torso. ]

Yes. Ready.

[ She spares maybe a second or two to look him over before she heads off in the direction of the assignment. She is absolutely assuming he will follow, and since she's in job mode, she's even less likely to start a conversation right off the bat than usual. ]

[demonicmiracle]

[At least one of them has their shit together; his idea of preparation was putting on a slightly more sturdy pair of boots than usual and like, a coat. He's still getting used to remembering to be practical, it's never been an issue until recently.]

After y— oh, alright, we're already going.

[It's a good assumption that he'll follow, since he jogs for a few seconds to catch up before falling into step beside her.

He does, at least, have his wits about him, keeping an eye on the forest around them.]

Please tell me you actually know how to use that thing.

[Meaning the spear. It looks like she's comfortable with it, but who knows.]

[twicelost]

[ His footsteps take a moment to start up, but there they are, quicker than usual until he's at her side. At least he's being vigilant too. They'll spot trouble easily between the two of them.

His question is almost an affront. ]

I know. [ In a tone that someone fluent in English would have begun with "Of course" and ended with an exasperated eyeroll. ] I am warrior in my tribe. You not worry. I protect you.

[ He doesn't seem weak, really, but... well. She will grant that it's hard to tell sometimes. ]

You can fight?

[demonicmiracle]

[It isn't hard to guess that English isn't her first language, and he has to wonder what sort of time she's from, if she's using words like tribe.]

Ehhhh. [That's not really an answer, but he takes a second to work out how to explain in better, more accurate detail.] I can, I suppose. Not sure how good at it I am, s'been a while since I've picked up a proper weapon, but you don't need to babysit me.

[Did he happen to get the shit kicked out of him by a bunch of humans recently? Yes. But in his defense, there were a lot of them, and he really isn't a 'hand-to-hand combat' sort of person. He knows his way around a sword. And fangs. Neither of those are easily accessible, here.]

[twicelost]

[ So... that's probably a no, he can't fight. So she says, in a firm and reassuring tone that somehow manages to not come off aggressive- ]

I protect you.

[ It's not an especially long trip to Dogtown, and is neither of their first time doing this Dogtown thing, so that helps get them on track faster. Keeping an eye out for weird things is normal here, Katrina supposes. It's a different thing from walking around in Bristol Cove like the predator she is. It helps that she's not alone, but there's always that thought in the back of her mind, about her people, the damage the humans are doing to the ocean, the way Tia came and preached wiping out humans— ]

What weapon you use before you stop fighting?

[ She is beginning to grasp the value of making small talk. ]

[demonicmiracle]

[It could be the kind of statement that would rankle at someone's pride, but Crowley is old enough not to care about that sort of nonsense. If anything, the reassurance of the point is almost sweet. He's not exactly used to people caring about his wellbeing.]

Much appreciated.

[He'll even be polite about it!

It's an easier part to respond to than the question, which takes him a second of hemming and hawing before he works out how to answer.]

A whole lot of 'em, if I'm being honest. Spears, swords, an axe or two, though I've never been big on those. I know my way around a bow and a gun, but my aim's a bit shite, haven't really got the eyes for it.

[His eyes... mostly work like human eyes, but some things are slightly trickier.]

[twicelost]

[ Letting her win this time is a pretty solid way to go about it.

She listens as they approach the beginning of the path. How curious. That speaks to a breadth of skill. Katrina herself is a seasoned warrior, but she is limited to spears and unarmed combat, for now. ]

You were warrior, in home?

[demonicmiracle]

[None of these questions are particularly easy to answer, but he's doing his best, mainly because it might be relevant, if they do run into something dangerous. He's kind of an idiot sometimes, but he knows better than to lie about what he can and can't do in these kind of situations.]

When my bosses forced me to be. M'not especially fond of violence.

[Which is terrible for a demon, but he's not a demon here. Or at least, only Aziraphale knows that he is.]

😇 aziraphale

[demonicmiracle]

[After several months of poor luck whenever he tries to do something actually productive for the ADI, Crowley has decided that they can go fuck themselves, because he'd much rather do something that isn't going to end in potential injury. Like dragging Aziraphale out for lunch.

It's daylight, too, saving them from having to worry about some nonsense shadow woman trying to kill them.

He knows, logically, that there's likely a dozen other things that could make their day miserable, but he's trying not to get too bogged down in that or he'd never leave the damn flat, so it's — fine. They're going to a little Italian place to get lunch, they'll have a stroll, and hopefully it won't be unbearably fucking awkward, since Aziraphale has... sort of been avoiding him.

The point is, he's determined to make this a perfectly normal outing, so when a wave of dizziness and exhaustion hits him, he's immediately annoyed and on edge. He reaches out for Aziraphale on instinct, gripping his arm as he sways on his feet.

When he looks up, Beelzebub is standing at the end of the street, staring directly at him.]

Fuck.

[That about sums it up.]

[oldbookshop]

[ That does sort of dash the odds of a nice little outing, a hope that Aziraphale may or may not have also been holding to. It's been odd, to say the least. To have something happen that was horrific and involved a measure of very tense shouting, and then go on sharing a close space in the days after.

They hadn't left things in an especially poor place, night of. Dare he say they've rarely left things in such a good place after a very real, serious bout of argument and wounded feelings. It's just-- more a matter of working out what to do next.

He doesn't think he's even thanked Crowley. He doesn't know if he's supposed to. He doesn't know if there's a way to say it isn't what you told me, it's that I did it at all or I can't entertain the notion of doing that to you again unless it somehow would save your life specifically that would be... measured. Wouldn't make Crowley feel guilty or ashamed or insulted somehow.

So he thinks, lunch, alright, have a stroll, remember how to have a normal conversation and save the rest for a more private moment. Can't properly avoid the matter here, obviously. ]

Oh. Quite. [ Which is more to say that, when he's blinked through his own bout of inexplicable dizziness and sees Beelzebub for himself, it's even more disappointing than it might usually be. He takes Crowley's arm in turn, pulls him back a step. Less of a good defensive front to be made when his old sword is currently under a couch in the flat, but, well. As potential needs must. ] Rain check on lunch, then.

[ "Still stuck on that gross matter, Aziraphale." This is, by definition, the absolute worst time for Gabriel to turn up from behind. Which Aziraphale would consider about on par. He leaves the Beelzebub-spotting to Crowley in light of present events. Better the devil you know. So to speak. "Oh, come on. Let's not act like any of us thought this was over." ]

[demonicmiracle]

[Gabriel's voice might as well be nails on a chalkboard for how Crowley's hackles go up. Beelzebub ought to be the one he's more worried about, the one he hates more, but Beez has only ever made his life difficult. Gabriel's the one that's made Aziraphale miserable, far too often.

But he sees Aziraphale turn better to face him, and understands that it's likely better to keep an eye on their respective bosses.

"Wank-wingzzzz is right for once, traitor."]

Oh, piss off.

[They're well past the point of him pretending to be loyal to Hell.

"We're here to bring you home to face the muzzzic. You wouldn't want to mizzzz the War, would you?"

He very much would, actually.]

[oldbookshop]

War? [ High, high on the list of words he'd been fruitlessly hoping not to hear. Of course.

Aziraphale is starting to suspect they'll be needing to make a swift exit. ] As I recall, we discussed--

[ "Hypotheticals aren't a discussion. Maybe if we'd had you spend a little more time Upstairs, you'd remember the difference."

If Gabriel is channeling some of his sour energy over Beelzebub's entire vibe into his put-upon sympathy, that's his business. It's a little like watching someone stretch a balloon over a sharp corner.

"You had your fun. You delayed the inevitable. Made things nice and difficult. Prolonged humanity's suffering with that little stunt, for the record. So!" Some say the sound of the Archangel Gabriel's managerial clap echoes throughout the universe into eternity. It's in an eternal race against Beelzebub's eyeroll. "Actions. Consequences. Let's not drag this out. Front and center, sunshine." ]

Could do with a more defensible position, I think, Crowley. Weapon wouldn't hurt. [ In this household we ignore Gabriel and stop pretending we weren't created to be good at a little battlefield strategy. Aziraphale adjusts his grip on Crowley's arm to something tighter, more deliberately secure. ] Negotiations seem to be off the table.

[ This is fine.

That's a lie.

This is not fine.

He expects that some part of the two of them has been waiting for this to happen since they got here. It's just another one of those times where there's something more immediately urgent to be getting on with. ]

[demonicmiracle]

[It would be a lie to say that he wasn't expecting something along these lines. Not necessarily Beelzebub and Gabriel showing up, but the whole — apocalypse not truly being stopped. In the moment, on Earth, he'd bene hopeful, but he's had too long to stew in his fear, since arriving on this shitty version of Earth, and he keeps circling back to the fact it was too easy.

Even if God has stopped paying attention, there's no way Satan was going to let it go.]

Not to put too fine a point on it, but I've still got nothing in the tank.

[In terms of power, he means. There's very little he can do against Beez or Gabriel in general, never mind when he's completely cut off from the ability to perform a miracle.

Of course you don't. Beelzebub takes a moment to interject, because why not. That was part of the fun.

For the first time, it occurs to Crowley that it isn't the Entities cutting them off from their power.

Time to come home.

Beelzebub snaps their fingers, and the sidewalk opens up, dragging Crowley down.]

[oldbookshop]

[ One small benefit: Aziraphale doesn't get more than a few seconds to internally panic about being separated at the worst possible time. Gabriel makes some dismissive noise as if to say "pff, demons, so dramatic," before snapping his fingers and sending Aziraphale up.

Back to Earth, easy as that. Their Earth. What's left of it, structures and shapes, sanitized of humanity, the burnt-out husk of the bookshop. Still cut off from their powers, still reduced, given the humbling honor of essentially being used as the opening ceremony for the war Heaven and Hell always wanted.

It all goes a bit tits-up after that. If by "a bit" one means "irrevocably and entirely." Aziraphale is almost grateful throughout, in a sickening sort of way, that they aren't left any time to think. To fully absorb what they've been dropped into on top of everything else.

This is not something that they can survive. This is not something with a glimmer of secret hope on the horizon to stumble towards. It's a scrape for extra minutes at best, a refusal to be reduced to surrendering, which Aziraphale avoids thinking about as much as he can.

They make a good enough show of it, he thinks. Benefit of knowing each other. Silent communication, teamwork, all that.

But sadly, in accordance with their usual luck, the tits stay up. Which leads them to where they presently stand, already in less than ideal condition. A little bit cornered. (A lot bit cornered.) A little bit out of moves. (A lot bit out of moves.) The conversation is over. There's no reasoning to be done.

Aziraphale chances letting Crowley out of his direct line of sight. A quick grip to the wrist, a careful attempt at pushing him behind himself. He expects he was technically more made for out-and-out final stands, between the two of them. Durability.

She gave him a sword and never made mention of a shield, after all. ]

cw: stabby time

[demonicmiracle]

[On the unpleasant occasions that he'd given it thought, Crowley had sort of hoped that his death would be a relatively quick experience, if it were come to that. That's always a lingering fear of being somewhat eternal; there are so many ways to drag out his existence that would be far worse than a splash of holy water ending it in seconds.

As things go, being hunted by the armies of Heaven and Hell both, with Aziraphale at his side, falls somewhere in the middle of the scale; the drawn out panic isn't a great time, but there's too much happening for him to really devote too much time to it, and he's relieved just the tiniest amount that everyone so far as come at them with the intention to kill, not capture.

Still, it'd be nicer if he hadn't been rendered mortal for this entire experience. If he could simply slip out of this useless, human skin, he'd do a lot more damage with fangs and claws. They wouldn't win, the numbers alone make that impossible, but he might have taken a good chunk of them down with him, and the satisfaction of that would've been nice, in the end.

Also would have been nice to spend the last of his time with Aziraphale like this, terrified and desperate and more than a little bloodied. He doesn't even have room to think too much about Aziraphale so obviously trying to protect him, no matter how futile of a gesture it is, in the end. That's their bread and butter, some days, those futile gestures.

It's a fitting thought to be briefly lingering on, when he catches sight of an angel trying to sneak up on them, using the distraction offered by the gaggle of demons advancing from the front, the ones that Aziraphale tried so hard to save him from. Crowley only has a split second to make a decision, because he needs the rest of his time left to take one last greedy look at Aziraphale, ignoring the cut on his cheek and ichor staining his clothes. It really is a shame that it had to end like this.

There's not even time to say anything, and even if there was, it would feel too cruel to tell him the truth now, when there's nothing to be done with it. The best he can do is tighten his grip on the nasty dagger he'd stolen off another demon's empty corporation, and slips away from Aziraphale.

The angel is a Virtue, not the most imaginative of creatures, a fact Crowley uses to his advtange; they're expecting him to put up a proper fight when they lunge at him, and the split second of surprise that comes when their sword goes right through him is what he takes advantage of to drive the dagger up under their jaw.

The damn thing shrieks, an awful, ear-splitting sound, and takes off in a flurry of wings and holy fire, taking the sword and dagger with them. Which is an unpleasant situation for Crowley to find himself in; without the sword helping to stop the blood flow, his shirt is quickly soaked through with his own blood, despite his flimsy attempt to keep pressure on the wound.

He's been stabbed enough times to know immediately that there's something wrong. The pain is different, a burn that reaches deeper than his physical flesh, and he knows immediately that the blade was a blessed one.

A wound would've been inconvenient, may have discorporated him, whatever that would entail when he's mortal, but he could have survived that.

There's no surviving this one.]

rip

[oldbookshop]

[ This is what he gets for looking away. That's probably a self-centered thing to think, isn't it. End of the day, he's always been selfish deep down.

Aziraphale doesn't notice Crowley's moved until he hears the scream. Busy taking stock, busy thinking in some straight line. Crowley's always been a little better at the creativity. Helps to cover their strategic ground at a time like this, actually.

He's expecting the Virtue, and just from the tenor, he's expecting it to not be terribly well-off. He's not expecting Crowley with blood rolling through the cracks in his fingers. Who says he needs access to his usual demonic powers to stop time? It's working fine in this moment.

Did Aziraphale have plans? Was he thinking in terms of strategy? Funny how that's all just gone out the window and to the ground, not unlike the secondhand sword Aziraphale had eventually had to pick up. No space for thought around the horrified need to get there as quickly as possible, stumbling over some bit of shattered pavement, hand pressed over the top of Crowley's like it's going to accomplish anything at all. ]

I've got you, it's alright, you're alright--

[ No he's not, no he won't be, trying to keep him from falling over outright is all Aziraphale can even manage in these ridiculous useless mortal trappings. But he can't just say that. The battle to maintain composure is getting very hard to keep up with.

He tries not to notice that everyone seems eager for a show to laugh at. He's always been good at pretending not to notice that sort of thing. ]

🍭 jester

[demonicmiracle]

[Things have fallen back into a routine, after the last round of nonsense. It's... better, mostly, even if there's a lingering jumpiness in both of them, anxiety that hasn't quite faded.

But it's been long enough that Crowley doesn't feel like he's going to crawl out of skin if Aziraphale isn't in the room, and he'll count that as a win.

What it also means it that he can skip out of work early without too much fuss, leaving him alone when there's a knock on the door. He's not expecting Aziraphale for another hour, so he puts on his glasses before answering, a little wary as he does.

The absolute last thing he's expecting is a bloody blue woman with horns.]

— the fuck?

[lavorreable]

"Hi, I'm Jester!"

The blue woman with horns stands in the doorway with a radiant smile, a bright pink haversack, and her tail swaying gently behind her. She looks over the man who answered the door with no trace of wariness on her end, just a general affable curiosity. It's weird that he's wearing sunglasses indoors, but maybe he has sensitive eyes.

"I'm moving in here today! Are you Crowley or Aziraphale? They told me that's who lives here already." Her accent sounds vaguely eastern European but not any one place in eastern Europe, not that she would have that context at all. She tilts her head to the side. "Can I come in?"

[demonicmiracle]

He's not sure which is more of a shock, the whole blue thing, or the apparent fact they're getting a roommate. The look of distaste that crosses his face is automatic, as he glances behind him, trying to imagine the idea of another person being in their space.

"Crowley. I'm Crowley." Words are a good start, even if he's wishing he had his powers purely so he could snap his fingers and send Jester on her way.

But he steps back, instead, with a half-hearted gesture towards the interior, deciding it might be better not to make too much of a fuss immediately. "What're you supposed to be?"

Rude, honestly.

[lavorreable]

She smiles harder at his aversive expression, bringing a bit of an edge to it. Kill them with kindness, though. Especially if she's going to be living here. Plus she can always put salt in his coffee later or something if he's a real asshole.

The question of what she is has already been asked of her a handful of times since her arrival, though, and doesn't strike her as any ruder than his immediate reaction on opening the door, so she answers as she steps inside and looks around.

"I'm a tiefling, which is a half devil or demon where I'm from. It's weird there's none from Earth but every world is different I guess. Maybe Exandria is the weird place." She picks up a book from the nearest surface and leafs through. Hm, not porn. Which is probably good since she doesn't really want to live with some perverts who leave porn laying around she guesses, but that also makes it less interesting. "And what are you, cool guy? You didn't freak out so you've either been here awhile and seen some stuff or you only look human."

[demonicmiracle]

That is... not the answer he was expecting. She looks like a very stereotypical demon, aside from the coloring, but that's a silly human idea, nothing all that based in reality. (Not counting Satan, with his horns and red skin, but that's just what he wants to look like.)

There are several ways he could play this, and he should probably... consult Aziraphale first, except that there's really no way they can continue with the charade if this tiefling is going to be living with them. This whole situation is entirely outside his realm of experience, putting him slightly on the backfoot, and it's easy to fall back on instinct.

Crowley grins right back, pushing his glasses to rest atop his head. "I'm a proper demon, actually. Sorry about the human-looking body, it's the only one I've got right now."

[lavorreable]

While Jester gets the vague sense that Crowley was looking to startle her with this revelation, she simply shrugs. "That's cool. As long as you don't do mind control or whatever, then I think we'll get along just fine. I like your eyes."

They look kind of like the Traveler's. The same color, anyway. Hopefully that means Crowley is at least half as fun and game for trouble.

She glances around the apartment again, looking for doors this time. "Which one is my room? And do you have any rules or anything?" So she knows where the boundaries are before she tests them.

[demonicmiracle]

Well.

That didn't go how he expected it would, and he flounders for a second, not sure where to take things from here. Demons don't do bright and cheery and unflappable, even half ones, and Crowley doesn't like being on the proverbial back foot.

"We've not really needed rules." Questions, at least, he can answer. Even the one about the bedroom. He gestures to the first two doors, "Those're mine and — Aziraphale's, he's out right now. Suppose you can have the last one, s'down the hall a bit."

They're going to have to figure out rules. Humans probably have advice about this sort of thing on the internet, hopefully.

[lavorreable]

"Thanks! I'll go put my stuff down and then you can give me the tour!" Without waiting for an answer, Jester practically skips off down the hall and bursts through the door to what is now her room.

The walls are beige, there's a simple if generously sized bed, a desk, and two windows overlooking more of the complex. It's boring and begging to be personalized, but there will be time for that later.

She tosses her haversack on the bed and trots back out into the unit proper. Curious and with an air of someone used to having her questions answered, Jester folds her hands behind her back and rocks a bit, tail swaying gently. "Okay! I'll have to paint later to make it nicer but it's pretty big so that's good. What else should I see? How long have you and Aziraphale been here?"