logsinthenight | OPEN | Keep Yourself Alive

Entry tags:

OPEN | Keep Yourself Alive

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

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"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?"

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."

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."

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."

"Rastus does seem more amenable when the requests are not for yourself." Its worked for him well in the past. Granted he also had someone to share such things with in the past as well.

While Kuai still doesn't get the difference in grape water, he won't harass the man when he's clearly not pleased about the situation. Even though he figures all alcohol is pretty much the same anyway. Especially the kind that smells like rotten fruit.

"Did you have a choice in leaving London? Because I would have preferred to not leave my realm either."

"You mean about death?" Crowley asks. He reaches over the bar to one of the open bottles and grabs himself a glass. Maybe after a drink or two he'll be a bit nicer about this whole negotiation thing.

"I don't think there are a lot of people here who went willingly into death, much less into this place."

He can think of a few. Odd ones that they are.

"Some did, but not willingly to here. Several died fighting for their friends, family or what they believe in. So while they may have known death was inevitable they couldn't have fathomed they'd be in this place."

He'd count himself among those. The battle was doomed from the beginning, he can only hope his death bought enough time for others to survive, with the narrow sliver of hope they'd succeed.

"Who is the wine and tequila for if not yourself?"

"Well, it was supposed to be a gift for a friend," he says, looking at the bottle of generic red as though through sheer will he might be able to make it something more palatable. Sadly, all the bottle does is cower in its own incompetence.

"That's what you do, right? That and blast ridiculous music through every station as long as possible." The Christmas playlist had, of course, been one of Crowley's. He made sure every station only had a choice between 20 songs, and if ever their list got longer, demonic powers would turn additional songs into All I Want for Christmas is You, ensuring it was the most-played song throughout the season. The low level of frustration caused every time someone heard Blue Christmas for the thirtieth time in the same night brought a lot of souls right into Hell.

He gives the person he's talking to a once-over. "Not from 2019 Earth, though, are you?"

Ice Assassin here has probably never heard a Christmas song in his life and has absolutely no idea what Crowley is talking about. The winter theme only goes so far.

"What makes you think that?" Because actually, he is. Just because the two Grandmasters dress like they're from the 16th century doesn't mean the rest of the world doesn't have all kinds of cool tech that he absolutely refuses to use. Could he have sent a drone into locations to scout around for him? Sure. But instead he has an old timey telescope that works equally as well in his mind.

"And I presume your friend would be insulted by this as a gift?" Okay now he's understanding a little bit better.

"No. I'd be insulted to give it," he says. He can drink a table red whenever he wants, but to give one away as a gift? Embarrassing.

He tilts his head. "Not your usual Instagram-friendly outfit, there. Unless you're one of those cosplaying lots, because that has nothing to do with me. I just respect your fervor."

"Ah, I see. If you explain to Rastus that its a gift he may be more inclined to find something of higher quality. That has been my experience anyway."

He arches an eyebrow at all that because honestly Crowley, he got maybe six words of sentence, "I haven't the faintest clue what you are talking about."

Crowley rolls his eyes. "Why does it have to be a matter of convincing him? Can't he just----" He gestures, in the manner of someone very used to getting what he wants with very little complaints.

He gives the fellow a look up and down. Not a cosplayer, then. "When are you from, then?"

"He has no reason to help us to begin with. That he's doing it at all is more than generous." He huffs. Some people aren't very appreciative of what they have and the services rendered for free by people who don't need to do so.

"2019. Earth." He'll just sip his tea because he honestly has no idea what the problem is. What do Grandmasters dress like in your world Crowley?

"Right. You know, so am I, but we don't have===="

He gestures to the person, giving them a once-over under his sunglasses.

"Is this some sort of a fetish thing? Never been very good with that, it's not my department."

"I'm the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei." He glares over his cup of tea. Fetish thing? He doesn't even know where to begin with that one. So he's going to ignore it.

"Department? I don't even know who you are let alone what you are talking about."

"In 2019."

Crowley sniffs. "You know, I don't remember a Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei in 2019, are you sure that's where you're from?"

Oh, but he wishes Aziraphale were here. He'd be able to get a straight answer out of this bloke. What he's saying isn't making any sense to Crowley at all.

"Yes? What we're saying is not mutually exclusive - I have met others from different versions of the same world. We're likely not from the same one or same time. And I am not lying about who I am or where I come from."

His delicate honor is offended that anyone thinks he would lie about that. Not to mention he's a terrible liar who wouldn't be able to convince anyone of anything for more than four minutes.

He doesn't need to think that Crowley thinks he's lying. Crowley just thinks he's wrong.

"Oh, no, no, you're not talking about alternate universes and that sort of shite, are you? I really, really don't want to know anything about it, I don't want any comic book nerds appearing out of the woodwork to explain what could've been and should've been and all of that..."

"I was thinking realms, but certainly, universes works as well. If you don't want to know about it, then you don't need to worry about where anyone is from or when. I'm told ignorance is bliss." Which is a load of horseshit as far as he's concerned, but it works for some people.

People he has a very low opinion of. Kabal for instance.

Crowley lets out a deep, annoyed sigh. "Getting people back to their proper worlds, one thing. Getting them back to their proper times, that's apparently another thing. But now we've got to get them back----"

He gestures to the man.

"----to a whole bloody different universe. That's..." He cringes. "Outstanding."

"I take it there aren't multiple realms or timelines where you are from? It's unfortunately fairly standard in mine." He grimaces, Kronika's mucking around with the sands of time had caused so many rifts that he had to deal with multiple versions of several people he knew. And no one should have to deal with two copies of Johnny Cage.

Kuai is a good person, he doesn't deserve that.

"Something brought us all here, we simply have to find out what and how, and reverse it."

See Crowley? Easy.

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OPEN | Keep Yourself Alive

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