heresyandlace | Personal Comm

[Crowley turns to give Tek a level look. ]

In Paradisa, we'd call that a Tuesday.

Yes, I'm upset, but railing about it won't do a bloody thing. It'll still happen, if I complain about it or not.

[and now it's Tek's turn to raise an eyebrow.]

...Do you let everything kick you around without a fuss like this, or only the things that you can't see?

Depends on what the thing is. You've got to understand, some of us here have been dealing with this bullshit for years. Eventually, you just learn to roll with it.

Oh, please. I was created for some invisible higher power to kick around.

But, I don't intend on just rolling over and letting them have their way with me, before I at least make a mess of things, first.

[and the lazy glow in his eyes flares brighter, as he begins to bleed some of the intangible energy he normally keeps a bit more contained.]

[Uh oh. Crowley shuffles, a little uncomfortably. ]

Look. I'm all for fighting the system and all that, but making a mess of things? That can backlash. Really, really badly. For everyone.

[he steps closer to the demon, energy continuing to seethe up around him.]

You said it yourself-- they're going to do it anyway, aren't they? So, what good is playing nice really going to do?

They want you scared. They want to know you're harmless.

I didn't say I was scared. I'm just not prepared to unleash hell, literal or otherwise, on this place. It's not worth it.

[What he means is that innocent people could get hurt, but as always, he doesn't say that. ]

Isn't it? It's going to take them doing more? What exactly are you waiting for?

They've already let people into your head to see what a monster you are.

[If Tek was fishing for a reaction, he's definitely got one with that last comment. It hits too close to home, rubbing salt into a wound that Paradisa left and never truly healed. Because this is the crux of things: no matter how Crowley acts like he doesn't care, he absolutely and completely does. With every fibre of his being. He's spent thousands upon thousands of years doing everything in his power to not be a monster. To be something different.

Something horribly close to hurt flashes across his features for a moment. But just a moment. Then he tightens his jaw and stands in a fluid moment. The lackadaisical aura around him dissipates instantly, the lazy smirk gone. This isn't some half-assed yuppie that's apparently a demon but can't be arsed acting like one any more. Suddenly, he's carrying himself like something very powerful and very, very old. ]

Find someone else for your bloody crusade. We're done here.

[the thing he's always quietly looking for in Crowley--and clawing for now--is there. he can see it. and it's just as dark and dangerous and familiar as he'd hoped.

it's not a good thing. but everything else cracking apart and giving away around him makes this seem more like a lifeline than a threat.

because, Tek has one of those wounds now too. and he's gotten a little desperate for something familiar.

instead of letting him go, he steps forward, urgently trying to keep the demon facing him and listening.]

Who are you mad at right now? Truly?

[Unfortunately for Tek, it's having the opposite effect on Crowley. His walls are going up. Not the ones built with sardonic remarks that some unfortunates sometimes get dealt with. These walls are worse. Thicker, taller, more solid.

He does look at Tek, but his expression is neutral. The feelings he had (and he did have them) for the dragon getting put behind the wall slowly. Brick by brick.]

Don't mistake my disappointment for anger, Tek.

[And with that, he starts to walk away.]

[he was so close. he'd seen behind the wall; it was right there. something hurt and old, something toyed with by something unreachable, something just like him. it should have been pulled out. it should have turned to anger, even if that anger had been aimed at him. that would have been much preferable to it disappearing like this.

because he watches as it is suddenly gone. he can feel himself being pushed away, and--again--it happens when he's least expecting it.

all of the tense, furious energy waiting to be unleashed is still there, but there's a shiver through the whole thing. for a small second, his face falls, and the surprise is visible.]

Wait--

[he can't really be leaving him, can he?]

[Crowley stops, shoes scuffing the metal surface of the floor. He remains there for a moment, body tense. His hands clench and unclench for a minute. He doesn't turn around, but he does look over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. ]

Why?

[A thousand questions in one. Why dredge things like this up? Why probe and try to make it worse? Why does he want that very carefully restrained part of him out at all? But the more prevalent why is the simplest. Why should he wait? ]

[it's a very rare instance when Tek truly needs to search for what to say. but now, there is a pause while he cycles past the horrible words that spring into his mind first-- because you can't leave me. because there aren't many left. because we're not done.

he needs to step back and return to the cause of the whole thing. he forces his shoulders even, but his hands clench to mirror the demon's.]

Because... that's not what I meant.

[however the demon had taken what he'd said, it must have gone wrong somewhere.]

[Crowley can feel the anger, clawing away at him. He wants to be angry, but at the same time, he doesn't. That's what Tek wants, and he absolutely cannot let that side of him out. Never again.

He does turn this time, to look at Tek. The neutrality is slipping a little, the hurt showing through like the shifting of a shadow in a moving car. It's hard to see, but it's there.]

And what did you mean, exactly?

[There's a horrible edge to his tone. Make or break. He isn't playing a game any more. ]

[he at least understands the weight here--the fact that Crowley even turns at all shows the thin edge that this is balanced on. and normally, those are the kind of odds that Tek doesn't bother with. it's been a longstanding habit of his to let something go long before it has a chance to turn on him. but that had been in a world where there were a million opportunities to start over again. he'd just have to walk long enough until he left it behind and ran into somewhere to begin again. some new face to trick into spending time with him.

but, since being stripped of that and pulled from one sparse world to another, that he might have to actually work to keep a few things.

so, he bites his tongue, only just barely, before continuing.]

I meant that we're monsters [--with a very intentional use of 'we' there,] ...In that we're not like them. We have to put on masks, and step a very careful little dance, and hide the things that we're capable of. That we have done. And then something comes along--

[he takes a breath to fight the rage back from a boiling point, because these words are hard enough to lay out in a row as it is. the tension is already strangling in his chest.]

You may not care that people crawled around in your head and saw your secrets, but I do... And I've already lost something because of it.

[Crowley listens. That, in itself, is a start. He understands. Paradisa made it a habit of bringing that part out of him. Revelled in it. And people always died. Sometimes people he actually cared about died. He's still amazed South will go anywhere near him. He knows, even if they are almost back to how they were, there will always be something there. A quiet, horrible reminder in the back of her head that she sleeps with a demon. A real demon from Hell, and all that entails. ]

You don't have me figured out as much as you think. [The edge is gone, his tone is calm, collected. ] Yeah, I'm not like them. I can do things beyond even their most dark and desperate nightmares. Things they could never think I'd be capable of.

But. [And this is important. ] I'm also the opposite of that.

[His wings don't appear, but there's a shift in the air, a flicker of light. They aren't there, but the suggestion of them is. ]

I'm also capable of more goodness than they could ever be aware of, that I'll let them be aware of. Just like I can strangle them in shadows, I can bathe them in light. I can take away their strength or give it to them tenfold. I can bless them as easily as I can curse them.

[The suggestion is gone. Now it's just Crowley. What he is. The purposefully created blend of Heaven and Hell. Something that's both and neither. Something that is a being all of his own. Almost human, but nothing like one. Just him. ]

So I'll say it again. I'm not taking part in whatever retaliation you're planning. Because it's them who'll get hurt, and I threw in my chips with them a long time ago.

[From the Beginning, really, even if he couldn't admit it back then. ]

Edited 2016-01-27 01:47 (UTC)

[he'd never be able to put into words why, but he has to look away. his gaze angles off, lowers to the side, as if he can't bear to look at something that is invisible anyway.

they're so similar, it makes his chest feel sunken in. the paths they've chosen, the mistakes they've made, are very different from one and other. but they were originally created for the same purpose, have since fallen, and were marked by their respective attachments to the mortal race.]

They'll get hurt anyway. Until we can find a way out.

[though, it's practically beside the point now. because the point that is presently stuck, lanced right through him, is the fact that some part of him doesn't want to be a monster anymore than Crowley does. but he keeps holding onto it like a shield.]

And you think, what, attacking Atroma will achieve that? How would you do that? How do you attack something you can't see? Can't touch?

[Crowley folds his arms, letting out an exhale he wasn't even holding in the first place. This was ridiculous, and dangerous. ]

What's the point?

It's better than just sitting by and watching them do it again, isn't it?

[he can't help but throw his arms out to the side in a gesture of helpless frustration, as Crowley folds his.]

The point is that doing nothing is just as bad as welcoming them to do it again.

Because, they're watching. Someone is watching.

[--whether that be Atroma, some distant audience, or gods themselves.]

You still haven't told me exactly how you plan to fight back against captors who aren't anywhere to be found. Or did you not think out that rather crucial puzzle piece in all of this?

[He's heard this FIGHT BACK!! Thing so much. The last time anyone did that to the castle, it just rebuilt itself the next day. There are some battles you just can't win. ]

It doesn't matter how, it just matters that we do.

[which is absolutely not an answer, and is the opposite of logic. of course he doesn't have a plan, but that is inexplicably the part that he cares the least about. hearing himself say it out loud only emphasizes this fact.

and, again, it's beside the point anyway. he doesn't want to fight anymore. it's just a hard habit to avoid when the impulse is still so urgent and central. it takes a great effort to sigh, rub his face, and push his focus over again.]

Look... Forget this. All of it. This isn't... what I'd wanted.

The how matters a lot. Without a plan, you'd just be screaming against the void, while they sat back and laughed at you.

[He rolls his shoulders, uneasy, distinctly unhappy. ]

I'm still not exactly sure what you wanted of me in the first place, here.

Me neither.

[--which is a lie. he knows exactly what he'd wanted, but like hell he's going to go back and elaborate on it now. he's drawing inward again; he's shifting to damage-control mode.

which is a mode that--to his credit--he doesn't usually even bother with.]

But it's not this.

[That much, at least, Crowley has noted. The word monster still claws and bites at his mind though. It doesn't want to let go. He folds his arms, staring at the ground. ]

Well. This is what you've got.

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I'd lost this notif yaaay. :|

it's ok I'll make up for it

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