crowley perfected the double cross. (redsmoke) wrote in onewaythreads, @ 2019-02-17 20:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | crowley, michael |
WHO: Crowley & Michael
WHAT: Bitching about Nephilims and Antichrists. And Winchesters.
WHERE: Limbo, Ravenmoore.
WHEN: February 14th, around 4pm.
RATING: Low, will change if needed.
Crowley hadn't been feeling at ease since the whole blood rain incident, if he had to be honest. Truthfully, it hadn't been just the angels that had sensed the sudden arrival of the Satanic offspring, Crowley had noticed it when Michael had turned up. When Crowley himself had first gotten here, he'd felt like he hadn't been a hundred percent here, as he hadn't been able to access Hell, he hadn't been able to access his true form, hadn't been able to retreat into himself and split his soul into fiery atoms and smoke out into his true terrifying essence when he needed to truly relax, in a way that a deep tissue massage couldn't quite measure up to.
It'd taken some getting used to. Sure, he still had his mojo, he could still get caught in devil's traps, shoot him with rock salt and it'd hurt, summon him and he'd still appear, if you even dialed 666 he would still answer. But even though his blood ran with hellfire, even though he could still heal himself, he felt strangely lost, like a part of him was missing.
When the Antichrist arrived, he felt the presence, so familiar but so wrong. The heat was there, but it was humid and terrifying. Crowley didn't even go near it. It was strange, a Hellish presence, it should have been comforting, but it was wrong. He didn't even have anyone from Hell from his world to talk to about it with either, so he wasn't sure if it was just him, or if it was just...
... he sighed. Right now, he sat at the bar, nursing a glass of Scotch, harmless enough at first glance but it was Hellfire brand whiskey, strong enough to send a human to the emergency room. Like angels, Crowley couldn't actually get drunk, and being closed off from Hell didn't change that. But drinking this sort of brand made him feel calmer, less unnerved by everything going on.
Because of the whole Antichrist situation, there was the whole bomb that Dean had dropped on him back when they'd first met up. Lucifer's kid was alive, and the Winchesters had actually adopted it. Idiots. What if they adopted the fucking Antichrist, too?
Gritting his teeth slightly, Crowley looked out the window and looked at the snow falling. He hadn't been outside when the rain had turned to blood, in that localised area in Ravenmoore, he'd been inside watching Constantine (Keanu Reeves again) and he'd felt like he was choking, he'd tasted the blood in his mouth, he'd felt the change in the air.
And then of course he'd looked outside and seen the bloody archangel light show.
It was all wrong. All so bloody wrong. Crowley didn't want any of it. He just wanted to live here with his dogs. The last thing he wanted was anyone thinking he was in league with that type of Satanic bullshit.
Crowley let out a deep sigh before draining the last of the Scotch and instantly ordering another. Idly, he wondered how Michael's day at work went, if there were many PDA incidents going on. He smirked slightly at the thought. Perhaps he had slightly ulterior motives for seeking the archangel out. Demon, etcetera.