EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

[inthenightmods]

EVENT LOG:
BURY A FRIEND

characters: everyone.
location: around town.
date/time: october 9-17.
content: the hallucinations begin...
warnings: psychological horror. please cw tags appropriately.

it's probably something that shouldn't be said out loud

October 9 feels like a normal day at first, save for the red lighthouse beam cutting through the darkness overhead. You know by now—or you've heard—that the lighthouse is only active during ferry arrivals and events... And there's definitely no ferry docked at the, er. Beach. The town is quiet, the forest spirits behave business-as-usual, Rastus doesn't know what's up. Whatever's going on, you'll have to figure it out for yourself.

And you will, though the hallucinations are subtle at first: objects moving when they shouldn't, people's proportions looking just a bit off, voices in an empty room, and so on. Is it just your mind playing tricks in the darkness? Might be! Will did warn you all about the effects of living without a sun and a proper day/night cycle.

As the days go on, the hallucinations are harder to ignore, no matter how much you may wish to wave them off as flukes. What's wrong with everyone's faces? When did all the howling start? Who do you hold onto when the world drops out from under you? And those hands...

While you might know it can't be real, it certainly feels real. But at least it can't last forever!

...Right?

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Comments

[lunchbreaks]

"First of all, you wouldn't make me Fall, I would've Fallen all by myself. But I haven't." He starts to run his fingers through Crowley's hair, and it doesn't feel like talons. It feels like fingers.

"You can't make me do anything," he adds. "And I can't make you do anything either." Unfortunately.

[sauntered_downward]

"You can't Fall, angel," he says, leaning into the angel's touch. "You're too good to Fall. You always have been, you always will be."

It would be Crowley's fault if the angel Fell. One temptation too many, one question asked too many. He knows it.

[lunchbreaks]

"Dear, there's no such thing. We've already been over this." He shifts to sit cross-legged on the ground so he can pull Crowley's head into his lap. "And if that's the worst thing you can imagine, you needn't worry yourself."

There he is, sitting on the floor, trying to calm his best friend from his nightmares that all revolve around him. What has he done?

[sauntered_downward]

"It is," he says. "It's the worst thing that could happen to you and you wouldn't deserve it."

Crowley can't think of a nightmare worse. Perhaps the Earth being destroyed. Being separated from Aziraphale forever. But Aziraphale losing his goodness? Losing his angelic nature? It was the most horrible thing he could imagine.

"You being an angel, it's----it's what makes you you. The fact that you're too bloody good for your own good. It's what I---" He takes a breath. "It's part of who you are."

He opens his eyes and looks up at Aziraphale. The fire is gone. Aziraphale is there, and he looks like himself.

[lunchbreaks]

He looks at Crowley, concerned. "Close your eyes, dear," he says at once, not realizing that he doesn't need to be told that anymore.

"And I'm really not as good as you think I am. It's how we both ended up in this mess, isn't it? I wanted to defy Heaven, and you Hell. But you're right. I'm no demon, and you are no angel. It just wouldn't work that way."

[sauntered_downward]

"Well, if you looked anything like what I saw, you'd have made one Hell of a terrifying demon," Crowley says. "Given Beezelbub themself a run for their money, that's for sure."

Aziraphale is right, though. He's no angel. Hasn't been for a long time. And Aziraphale is far too good to have ever made it as a demon. So they sit here, neither fully fitting in with their own worlds, trapped in this strange dark place together.

"I don't think you ever asked why I Fell," he says.

[lunchbreaks]

"No," Aziraphale says, not realizing that he hasn't stopped playing with Crowley's hair. "Because you've never wanted to talk about it. It's not something I need to know, and it doesn't impact what I think of you. I don't want you to think that it does."

"Plus, it was so long ago..." He frowns. "I suppose I never asked if you'd like to tell me. Would you?"

[sauntered_downward]

"I just----"

He's spent so long justifying it to himself and blaming others for his Fall. Saying he just asked a lot of questions, saying he just hung around with the wrong people. He didn't mean to Fall, he knows that much. He just doesn't really remember where it all went wrong.

"Yes," he says, finally. "I will."

[lunchbreaks]

"Well, alright," Aziraphale says. "I'm all ears," he explains, now practically giving Crowley a scalp massage by complete accident. Seems that if Crowley should hiss while he forgets himself, Aziraphale would accidentally become much more physically affectionate when he forgot himself.

[sauntered_downward]

"I was never a very good angel," he says. "Questioned too much. Vocally. Regularly. Asked until I made friends who also asked. And----well, that was it, wasn't it? That was all it took back then. Questioning too much. Not having enough faith. I never had enough faith."

He thinks often if he had as much faith in God that he has in Aziraphale, he'd never have Fallen.

"It was never much, back then, to Fall."

[lunchbreaks]

"Oh. I don't know why you thought not to tell me that," he responds. "Seems unfair you should've Fallen at all." Lord knows Aziraphale has done more questionable things, he just never asked. Always did first, and requested forgiveness instead of permission.

Or, just. Never explained.

"I suppose that you were always curious," he says. "And I was always ready to accept things as they were."

[sauntered_downward]

"Not always," Crowley says. "You questioned enough, but you were better than I was. Much better."

He gazes up at Aziraphale and lets out a sigh. He could stay forever like this, he thinks. Just being touched by Aziraphale, being reminded that things are safe.

"Have you seen any hallucinations?" he asks.

[lunchbreaks]

Hearing that reaction, feeling Crowley relaxing, he digs the pads of his fingers against Crowley's scalp, getting him all the way from the front to the crown and then the temples.

"Yes, but none so terrible. Except the hands. Oh, I don't like the hands," he explains.

[sauntered_downward]

"Everyone sees the hands," Crowley says. "The human soldier person says no hallucinations are shared except the hands---think that's because they're real?"

He shuts his eyes again, focusing on the feel of Aziraphale's fingers on his scalp, on the gentle, intimate touch. Crowley has never been touched like this, he thinks. Not in his entire life.

[lunchbreaks]

Oh, he's just like a cat. Aziraphale likes this very much, he thinks. Much better than Crowley freaking out about his owl features and his eye falling out. Or whatever.

"The hands are real? They can't be. That doesn't make sense. Wait-- you've seen the hands and this is the first other thing you've seen?"

[sauntered_downward]

"I thought I'd seen Hastur," he says. "In the woods. Human soldier person got me away from there. Nothing like---"

He vaguely gestures around the now-not-burning room.

"This was...intense."

[lunchbreaks]

"Yes, I know dear. It's alright." And then, after a second. "How's your leg?" he asks, his voice softening, smooth like butter. He doesn't want to remind Crowley of the memory of what just happened, only ease him elsewhere.

It's quite indulgent, to see him like this, like every time he gets to witness Crowley sleeping. Except, he has caused this directly. It's a gift.

[sauntered_downward]

"It's----doing all right," he says. It's not strictly a lie. It's certainly done worse. Spending the last few days off it has been a blessing, at least.

He reaches up, touching the angel's tartan sling. "What about you?"

[lunchbreaks]

"Oh, it's alright," he responds. "Healing up pretty nicely." Then he'd be able to put two hands into Crowley's hair.

"I give it a week or two more in the sling, I think. And it still hurts to laugh, but breathing is alright," he comments.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley thinks about that, about Aziraphale's hands in his hair, and his heart flutters at the thought. He immediately tells it to stop that because that's a ridiculous way for a demon's heart to behave.

"I-I'm sorry," he says. "That everything went so wrong with the ferry. I didn't think----it should've been planned better."

Crowley isn't one for apologizing. His mouth practically burns with the attempt.

[lunchbreaks]

"Dear, I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," he responds. "But I appreciate the thought." He could put both hands in Crowley's hair and really mess it up, as it were. Give himself the wrong impression looking in the mirror.

"Let's just-- let's not be hasty, alright?"

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley scoffs. He's not apologizing to the town. He's not doing what Aziraphale did. Apologizing to the angel is hard enough, and Crowley doesn't normally do hard, not when he doesn't have to.

"We'll plan better next time," he says. "Be smarter. As best we can, anyway."

[lunchbreaks]

"I don't think we should make plans, darling. We never had-- before, we only really had involved ourselves for Armageddon."

"Perhaps this was a mistake."

[sauntered_downward]

"We have to get back, angel," Crowley says. "We can't stay here, not with all of this happening. Not with Armageddon waiting to happen back on Earth in eleven years. Not with the shit wine we have here. We can't."

[lunchbreaks]

"Yes, I know that, but we can't-- we can't just involve everyone like this again, it's dangerous." He frowns deeply. "Haven't you learned that they don't want our help? Haven't we done quite enough?"