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?

QUICKNAV
comms	|	network • logs • memes • ooc
pages	|	rules • faq • taken • mod contact • player contact • calendar • setting • exploration • item requests • full nav

Comments

[lunchbreaks]

[ If Aziraphale knew that Crowley would hold onto those words specifically and none other as hard as he had, he would have chosen them more carefully.

He clutches the glasses in one hand and looks up into Crowley's eyes, the color of gold, of stardust, of sunlight, of late nights drinking too much and of watching over him for six millennia.

The illusions are all gone, just whispers of seafoam, pale under the rich canvas of stars that look so much like the ones Crowley had painted so long ago. Why hadn't he taken more time to admire his work? Why hadn't he taken more time to admire the artist?

He thinks to himself, that Crowley is not like the other demons because he loves, and he is loved. His chin tilts gently to the right, and the tips of his fingers tug on Crowley's cheek, urging him back into motion. ]

[sauntered_downward]

[Aziraphale once told Crowley he moved too fast, so Crowley slowed down as much as he could. He practically stopped moving. He'd stay perfectly still by the angel's side as long as he was there, with him. It was always enough, then.

Then, Crowley thought Aziraphale had died.

Then, the world nearly ended.

Then, they both died and came here.

Then, Aziraphale almost doused his own lantern.

Maybe it's about time Crowley started moving again.]

Oh, sod it.

[He reaches up to cup Aziraphale's cheeks and brings his mouth down on the angel's, hard and fast before he changes his mind and backs away again.]

[lunchbreaks]

[ Aziraphale gasps, but it's quickly swallowed by Crowley's lips, and he holds Crowley steadfast against him as they kiss, drinking him in like he's waited several millennia for this very moment.

In a way, it's been longer.

He allows himself to get lost in this moment, sucking in sharp, surprised breaths in the small gaps between when their mouths meet. And when it ends, everything is deafeningly still and silent, feeling lingering like fresh, powdery snowfall.

He pillows his head onto Crowley's chest, and draws Crowley's arms around him tighter, to hold him as close as could be. ]

[sauntered_downward]

[Crowley has waited six thousand years to kiss Aziraphale. Ever since Eden, ever since he blurted out that he gave his stupid flaming sword away. It was an infatuation that only grew and grew until----well, until---

He's almost shellshocked when the kiss is over, stunned at himself for going for it, and stunned that Aziraphale not only didn't push him away, but responded the way he did. Maybe he's been delaying too long. Or maybe now is finally the right time.

He wraps his arms around Aziraphale, leaning against him as they stand on the beach.

He swallows.]

Now what do we do?

[lunchbreaks]

[ He smiles into the warmth of Crowley's chest and thinks he might not leave until their time on this world, on any world, is up. ]

I don't know.

[ He's still clinging onto the glasses as if they're something of a treasure, and he pulls away only to look into Crowley's eyes again. ]

Lift home?

--Literally?

[sauntered_downward]

[Crowley leans over, picking up his lantern from where he discarded it on the beach. He holds onto both of them now.]

Yeah, angel. Give us a lift.

[lunchbreaks]

[ He lifts Crowley easily, and starts to fly them home. So he didn't get much done by way of building today, but there's always tomorrow. ]

Would you like your glasses back?

[ He'd hung them from his bowtie for easy keeping. But he sort of doesn't want to return them. ]

[sauntered_downward]

[Crowley could easily fly himself, but there's something very nice about being in Aziraphale's arms right now. The Aziraphale who is still verymuch alive. The Aziraphale he just kissed, which is still basically blowing his mind.]

Nah, I'll get them later.

[he looks down at the town]

How far do you think we could explore if we flew?

[lunchbreaks]

Would you like to? I don't think we can see most of it. But I also don't think we should stray too far. Not like this.

[ And, you know, for selfish reasons, like he wants to get Crowley inside and his leg propped up on pillows. ]

[sauntered_downward]

Not right now.

[He's had a bit too much adventure tonight.]

We might hallucinate up here.

[lunchbreaks]

Oh. Yes, that would be very bad.

[ Which means he's making a beeline for the house.

But he will indulge Crowley in a loop-de-loop before they land directly into the second-story window. ]

[sauntered_downward]

[Crowley reaches his leg down to the ground gently, reaching out a hand to check on it. His splint is pretty broken from the fall into the water, but that's not too surprising. A quick miracle will fix it back up. He waves his hand over the splintered wood]

This isn't Gabriel's doing, you know. No matter what you saw, he's not creative enough for this.

[lunchbreaks]

He said it was Hers, dear.

[ He also guides Crowley onto the nearest soft surface so he can do a check on his leg. ]

I know it couldn't be his.

[sauntered_downward]

This isn't Her, either.

There are children here, angel. She wouldn't torture children. [He knows that children dying have been part of her Plans before, but not torture, not like this.]

[lunchbreaks]

You may have a point.

[ But putting that aside, he'll be fussing over Crowley's leg. ]

My dear, this is never going to heal up properly. You need to take care of it.

I bet that dive wasn't very good for it.

Is this helping? At all?

[ He tries to exert some healing, but naturally his healing is stunted. ]

[sauntered_downward]

Yeah, it----takes away some of the pain.

[He lets out a big, frustrated sigh]

It's just never going to heal at this rate. I can't go a day without landing on it.

[lunchbreaks]

Have you tried just... resting, dear?

[ He looks at him, a little desperately. ]

I know you don't like staying in bed, but perhaps just around the house for a few days. Maybe a week. You're only making it worse, I think.

[sauntered_downward]

What, and leave you to your own devices?

[he holds up the angel's lantern as proof of the things the angel does when Crowley is not around]

[lunchbreaks]

You're right, I've been ungrateful.

Thank you, for saving me.

[ He shifts over, and presses a kiss to Crowley's cheek. ]

But stay in bed, and don't move around so much.

[sauntered_downward]

[For once, Crowley doesn't argue with being thanked, and just leans back on the bed.]

Don't put yourself in danger like that again.

Who the hell else am I going to take out to lunch when we get back to Earth, eh?

[lunchbreaks]

Oh, you're one to talk. Who's supposed to take me out to lunch if you die? Or for that matter, never heal this leg?

[ He tugs at the jeans. ]

I'm taking a look.

[sauntered_downward]

[Yesterday, Aziraphale removing Crowley's jeans in any context would have meant nothing---or, well, close to nothing---but in this exact moment, following that sudden, intense bout of intimacy on the beach, well, there's a whole other meaning to being undressed.

He still unbuttons his jeans and lifts his hips up to shimmy out of them.]

One of these days I'm going to make sure you buy me a drink before you get me out of my trousers.

[lunchbreaks]

Don't be crass dear, I'm checking your wound.

[ He sighs at the state of it, as he helps Crowley out of his jeans. ]

Lord, I can't believe this is all on my account.

[sauntered_downward]

I'm fairly sure the whole thing is my fault. I planned the ferry hijack. I knew the risks, angel.

[lunchbreaks]

Yes, and that is precisely why you are not allowed to plan any more hijacks, dear.

[ He pretties up Crowley's bandages and miracles them clean. Absolutely no hanky panky. ]

I don't know why you can't just fly everywhere. It'd heal this a lot faster.