OPEN | Keep Yourself Alive

[sauntered_downward]

characters: Crowley and YOU
location: All Around Beacon
date/time: December 5-12, and other points before the Night Market
content: Crowley's back to life, y'all. Did you miss him? Did you not miss him? Maybe you should come tell him how you really feel.
warnings: N/A



1. Exiting the Church - December 5

Crowley's back.

He's back and the church didn't kill him. The church grounds aren't consecrated. He isn't going to burst into flame and die instantly.

You know what this means?

This means Crowley is 100% invincible. He can die however many times he needs to and he's going to come back. Consequences be damned, he's going to get the hell out of this crappy town.

He slips on his sunglasses and steps out of the church, sauntering his way back towards the bonfire, ready for his next plan. Nothing's going to stop him now.

"Did the ferry already come and go?" he asks the first person he runs into.


2. The Invincible - December 6

"Look. It's trading. Okay? I trade you this positively mediocre bottle of red wine for a bottle of tequila. Do you understand? I just want the one. Just give me the one and I'll go away."

It's a rough life when you don't get everything you asked for from the ferry man person thing, but Crowley definitely did not get everything he asked for, and now he's stuck trying to bargain from the Invincible for their booze. He doesn't want to just take the tequila, that would be stealing and that would probably make Aziraphale unhappy with him. So here he is, talking to one of the spirits.

"Look, just pretend you understand me. Pretend you want this wine and you want to trade. Please, for me. I'll be ever so nice to you. Even if you all did just try to kill us for two fucking weeks."

Everyone else may be up for talking to the spirits again, but Crowley's just using them as a means to an end. He knows what they did, and they know what they did.


3. The Store - December 7

Crowley is rummaging through the store shelves like the world is ending. He definitely didn't get everything he asked for and now he's realized he also needs other things. This is really upsetting.

So see Crowley with a rusty pot, a bundle of newspapers, and several shoes, as he continues to dig through to find what else he can scrounge for in this shop. He is a man on a mission.

What is that mission? Oh, he's always up to no good, this demon.

"Can't even come up with a decent chocolate selection in this place----I'm not asking for much, I do not understand it."


4. Your Wildcard

Got a place you'd like to meet Crowley? LMK here or hit me up at rude_not_ginger

Comments

2

[featherknives]

A knife, purple, feather-shaped knife, lodges in the bar between the forest spirit that's tending the Invincible again and Crowley. Then several others fly next to Crowley's head, narrowly missing both Crowley and the spirit. The thing quivers and duck underneath the bar and brings out random bottles of random drinks, knocking over the glasses, cups and whatever else was on top of the bar counter.

"Negotiation takes us nowhere," Xayah says icily and recalls her blades with a soft curl of her fingers and glares until the spirit ducks away again and flees in the back. Both of her wings are folded over her front and back, making her look as if she's wearing long purple cape. Nothing's visible except her ears, a bit of her face under the cowl and her feet.

Her attention then shifts to Crowley. "How nice of you to grace us with your presence."

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley turns to Xayah and tries really, really hard to not look completely and utterly thrilled to see her. Or, you know, do something totally embarrassing and uncool like cry. After all, the last time he had heard from her, she was dying horribly somewhere in the woods where he couldn't save her. And now, well, now here she is, helping with his negotiations.

Not that she really needs to know what he's trying to negotiate for.

"Figured I'd been dead long enough. We'd all just end up sitting around singing kumbaya by the bonfire without a bit of demonic influence," he says. "And when did you get back?"

[featherknives]

It's been a while since she felt rage to this extent. She doesn't care that he didn't come when she called him- he probably couldn't find her or was already on his way to the damned Lighthouse. No, that's not what's making her angry. She's always been a loner and the only exception was Rakan; she doesn't expect it to be different here. However...

She grabs a perfectly decent bottle of wine that spirit brought out from its stash. She's done with threats- begging didn't work, threats didn't work, cursing didn't work, reason didn't work.

There isn't even blink as she crashes it right across the side of Crowley's head, the liquid and glass flying everywhere. Whether it's adrenaline or pure rage, she grabs him for the front of his shirt and lifts him from the chair, flinging him against boarded window.

"HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!?"

And that was followed by a very well-aimed punch, for someone who prefers projectiles rather than fists.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley lets out a yelp as the wine bottle smashes against his head, splitting it open easily in the process. Wine and blood run down the side of his face as she lifts him up and thrusts him against the boarded window. He is too stunned to block her punch, which socks him right in the jaw.

Down he goes, sliding down the wall.

"So we're not being excited to see each other alive, then?" he says, pathetically.

1.

[worthallthis]

The Soldier has been hovering around the church, and Aziraphale in the church, since everyone woke up. Occasionally they were even napping in the church during the couple of days directly after while they were still trying to get over... everything, which was uncomfortable and a little alarming, though thankfully that's over with now. All recovered from their death and stint with not sleeping.

But whenever they're not specifically on a patrol, checking in with Misty or Javert, or asleep (because they are sleeping again, even if it's a little annoying)... here they are. So when Crowley saunters right out, they're not far, and hearing his voice brings them right around the bonfire in his direction. There's even expression there, and that expression is bordering on delighted.

"Crowley!"

[sauntered_downward]

A slow smile spreads across Crowley's face. He's not going to try to look too delighted to see the human soldier person----have to keep up appearances after all----but he is positively thrilled to see them. See them not surrounded by destruction and green-eyed monsters that want to rip them to absolute shreds.

Crowley didn't even get a chance to grieve them when they'd died. Everything was happening so fast in the town, and suddenly the human soldier person was no more. Human life is so fragile. Even the superpowered soldier that the human soldier person is.

"Well, good to see you out of the thick of war for a while," Crowley says. "I take it the town buggered on without me?"

[worthallthis]

It's not like they didn't come back, Crowley. Relatively unphased by the whole dying thing, even. The Soldier trots the last couple steps and their hands go right to his shoulders. It's not quite a hug, but it's definitely a grab. "Everyone woke up, you asshole. Just a few hours after you died." They're still smiling, though, visibly pleased-- and relieved. Five and a half days, and Aziraphale fretting, and not even sure if he was coming back after so long....

[sauntered_downward]

"Yeah, it would be right after I left," Crowley says, letting out an annoyed snort. "When did the spirits stop attacking?"

It looks like the town has come back to normal, which is positively surprising to Crowley. It was in such disarray before.

3

[mindofathief]

A new arrival with a gloomy face is also at the store, eyeing the survival gear, then to the clothing. Those shoes looks decent enough, but nothing like the sturdy boots he has now. He does take a look through the bandannas. From the looks of it, his belt pouches looks full, but there were like that when he arrived.

Duster walks casually from one end of the store to the other, and Crowley will notice that he has a noticeable limp, favoring his left leg.

After a few minutes of window shopping, he asks, "Do you think this is the kind of shop that uses money?"

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley is a bit preoccupied with his own purchases, which are quickly piling up. He spares a brief glance at the person who is also in the shop with him----are those belt pouches or is that a belt pack he's wearing? For shame----before scooping them up and heading towards the door.

"I can't see what they'd need money for," he says. "Not exactly a booming economy, this place. No jobs, in the first place."

Not that Crowley would ever voluntarily work.

[mindofathief]

"Makes sense." Duster nods, understanding fully. "Tazmily used to be like this, just taking what we needed from the store." He finally selects a bandanna - one with pigeons printed on it, and folds it over to wrap around his head. "We should do something for the spirits, for giving us these things."

It was just right to repay Bronson for using his general store, even if it took weeks.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley stops and turns to look at the person, one eyebrow up.

"You're new, right?" His voice is very serious, just verging on cold.

2.

[paletteswap]

"It understands you, it doesn't care." There's a wry hint of amusement on Kuai's face as he approaches the bar.

He only wants tea, which the spirit scuttles off to get him because it doesn't seem to be in a trading mood right now. Or doesn't like Crowley very much. Kuai has a hunch he knows which one it is.

"Accusing it of trying to kill you is likely not going to be effective." said smugly as he sips his tea. "Maybe you should ask nicer?"

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley looks really, really fed up with this whole situation. He slumps down on the bar, affecting one who has been to war and back with this whole situation.

"I thought I was asking nicer," he moans, totally beside himself with annoyance. He straightens up and puts the bottle of wine on the countertop, glaring at it.

"This was supposed to be a spectacular bottle of red I'd asked for, but the ferryman decided to give me a generic bottle of table. Can't do much with that, so I'm going to have to improvise."

[paletteswap]

Ah yes, no one has suffered as Crowley has suffered. He's seen that look before.

He eyes the bottle of wine with incomprehension, "What's the difference?"

This is someone who threw a fit when confronted with the pre-bagged tea at the general store and can probably tell where his tea was dried within a thirty mile radius, but he doesn't know anything about wine. It's clearly not as impressive as his leaf water.

"I'm not sure tequila is an improvement in any case."

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley looks at the man as though he has just told him that he ate dirt for breakfast, with just a touch of snobbery on the side.

"You're asking me the difference between a proper red and a table wine?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "That's----this is why I should never have left London." He never got asked these sorts of questions in London. Of course, he also didn't go out with anyone who wasn't Aziraphale in London, and Aziraphale is just as much of a snob as he is when it comes to alcohol.

"Yes, well, the tequila is not for me, actually. The wine wasn't supposed to be, either. Wonder if I should've made that note during the request, might've got what I asked for."

The Store

[justcawse]

Akechi was just seeing if there was anything he needed in particular. So while he's not searching for anything in particular, he just happens to be in the area. He did take noticed to Crowley rummaging around, but didn't say anything at first.

"What are you looking for," he finally said something.

[sauntered_downward]

"I need a tin----a sort of metal container, something I can put a fire under."

Crowley turns to look briefly at the person who is speaking to him. He doesn't know the man, and that usually means he's easily dismissed. Most people in the town fall into two categories for Crowley: Helpful and ignorable.

"They have a lot of garbage in this place, you'd think they'd have a large tin of something."

[justcawse]

A tin huh.... Looking around, he could have sworn he saw something that might fit that description. So he'll search in that area for a while until...., "I'm not sure what you need it for, but would this be any use?" It was a simple a simple frying pan, but without knowing what he needed it for, it was hard to say what to look out for.

"I'm sure there's probably some more stuff around her somewhere if not," he offered it to him.

4

[lunchbreaks]

Aziraphale is at home, and has been reading to get his mind off of the conversation he's had, but he's fallen asleep in his chair, reading glasses askew, having a light lilting snore. It's very exhausting, getting tired.

He appears to be having a good dream, possibly one where he hadn't fought with Crowley and where Crowley'd come home.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley does come home, of course. It's the place to go once he's gotten everything he ordered from the ferry (everything that arrived, anyway) and wandered off to the Store to get a few things he needed. He's got his arms full when he pushes the door open, and he's about to go dropping it all on the table when he sees Aziraphale asleep in his chair.

He puts a bubble of silence over the table as he puts down his arms' worth of things, and steps over to the angel. Other circumstances, he'd probably just let Aziraphale sleep. But Aziraphale has been asleep for two weeks, from Crowley's point of view.

He reaches out a hand and puts it gently on the angel's shoulder.

"Aziraphale?"

[lunchbreaks]

Aziraphale stirs and then jumps awake, looking around for what happened when he sees Crowley. He places a hand on Crowley's, and looks at him startled and then fondly.

"Hello, dear," he says. "Are you feeling better yet?"

He leans against Crowley's shoulder. He's feeling very warm, and he'd like to share some of that warmth with Crowley. Perhaps they could both calm down and just have a nice evening together still.

3 Pls!

[patriotnow]

Ashford carries an axe and a hammer and has an eye out for any other tools that might be remotely useful. Though the difficult part is answering the question 'useful for what?' Unlike Earthers and Martians who are known enemies with set patterns of attack and behavior and easy to understand goals, here it is more of a free for all.

It also doesn't help his mood that he can still barely hear in the days since his eardrums were blown out.

He spots a familiar figure scrounging around the shelves nearby and huffs when he sees what Crowley is carrying.

"What use do you have for garbage?"

He thinks he's speaking in a normal pitch but it is actually much louder than is warranted for normal conversation.

[sauntered_downward]

"It's not garbage, Future Human," Crowley says, stuffing the shoes into the pan and lifting them up into his arms. "In case you were wondering. They are essential pieces of equipment for----"

Oh, here we go, Crowley. Can you even begin to put together an explanation for what these things are for that isn't going to make you sound ridiculous?

"----stuff." There isn't a hint of shame in his voice as he says this.

[patriotnow]

"Not a lot that can be made with paper and shoes."

He reaches out a finger to flick one of the shoe's laces.

"And certainly I wouldn't refer to them as 'equipment.'