Anthony J. Crowley (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hellbentley) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
wildestlands2021-11-22 08:49 pm
hellbentley) wrote in wildestlands2021-11-22 08:49 pm
Entry tags:
Is smoked meat supposed to be spicy?
[cw: coughing up a little blood.]
[Crowley is not a big eater. He'll drink like a fish, but food, well, for the most part it's just not one of his preferred guilty human pleasures. Occasionally he'll indulge in an expresso (black as his soul, if he had one), or something dark and rich and bitter like a dark chocolate tart, but only ever rarely.]
[Aziraphale is the one that thoroughly enjoys eating and Crowley usually prefers to just watch him enjoy himself.]
[Sleep, on the other hand? Sleep is amazing. He's slept a whole century before just for the simple pleasure of it.]
[So right now he's hanging out near the woods - it stings to be so close to the Heartstone - his mirror expanded. He's looking at a bit of smoked jerky he's been handed in a little paper wrap, grimacing slightly at how unappetizing it looks.]
Far be it for me to insist on five star dining in the great big useless bloody wilderness, but do we at least have something else to go along with this? I'm...a bit of a picky eater.
[It's believable. He's a very slim, leggy man, someone that looks like he may indeed be very picky about his food.]
Like...fruit? Don't eat much fruit, but I've heard good things. I've known a few people who just couldn't say no to fruit.
[His little joke. He tosses a small bit of the jerky in his mouth, just a little bite. It's not on his fingers long enough to sting. He barely chews it or this might have gone down better, might have let him spit it out with just a burned tongue before absolute disaster. He could've just played it off as being disgusted.]
[Dean had helped Kon brine at least some of the meat with his already-purified holy water. That meat had been smoked into some of the jerky, and even though the water evaporated off, it consecrated the salt left behind. Normal salt never hurt him, but blessed salt on the other hand...]
[Maybe it's not as potent as pure holy water or he'd have burned up from the inside almost instantly, but it's bad.]
So did anyone happen to find any - [He suddenly gags. Then bows over as he chokes.]
[It's not normal choking because he shouldn't have been able to get any words out at all at first.]
[It's not normal choking because most of the time when people choke from a bit of food they don't start coughing up blood. His teeth are instantly stained from it.]
[It's not normal choking because most of the time when people choke they don't start smoking from the mouth.]
[He wheezes like someone going into anaphylaxis, and falls to his knees so sudden and hard that his glasses become slightly loose. He coughs so hard they fall right off.]
[Finally, after a few hard wheezes she manages to cough it up, with a mouthful of blood. His voice is locked into a wheeze and he keeps having to cough and spit little gobs of blood. It's not as bad as the initial bit of it - mostly superficial blood vessels in his throat burst.]
Who made this? What did you put in it? What did you do?
[It's only then that he's able to notice what just happened. That the world is suddenly less dim. He holds a hand to his temple and realizes his eyes are visible - yellow and snakelike. And he starts looking for his glasses in the shadowy grass. His vision is still recovering from the darkness that crept in from the edges as he went without oxygen.]
Ahhh...
[He segues into a lie.]
...How embarrassing. Everyone now knows about my horrific eye condition and deadly food allergy. All connected, I'm afraid. Immune disorder.
[He is so fucked.]
[Crowley is not a big eater. He'll drink like a fish, but food, well, for the most part it's just not one of his preferred guilty human pleasures. Occasionally he'll indulge in an expresso (black as his soul, if he had one), or something dark and rich and bitter like a dark chocolate tart, but only ever rarely.]
[Aziraphale is the one that thoroughly enjoys eating and Crowley usually prefers to just watch him enjoy himself.]
[Sleep, on the other hand? Sleep is amazing. He's slept a whole century before just for the simple pleasure of it.]
[So right now he's hanging out near the woods - it stings to be so close to the Heartstone - his mirror expanded. He's looking at a bit of smoked jerky he's been handed in a little paper wrap, grimacing slightly at how unappetizing it looks.]
Far be it for me to insist on five star dining in the great big useless bloody wilderness, but do we at least have something else to go along with this? I'm...a bit of a picky eater.
[It's believable. He's a very slim, leggy man, someone that looks like he may indeed be very picky about his food.]
Like...fruit? Don't eat much fruit, but I've heard good things. I've known a few people who just couldn't say no to fruit.
[His little joke. He tosses a small bit of the jerky in his mouth, just a little bite. It's not on his fingers long enough to sting. He barely chews it or this might have gone down better, might have let him spit it out with just a burned tongue before absolute disaster. He could've just played it off as being disgusted.]
[Dean had helped Kon brine at least some of the meat with his already-purified holy water. That meat had been smoked into some of the jerky, and even though the water evaporated off, it consecrated the salt left behind. Normal salt never hurt him, but blessed salt on the other hand...]
[Maybe it's not as potent as pure holy water or he'd have burned up from the inside almost instantly, but it's bad.]
So did anyone happen to find any - [He suddenly gags. Then bows over as he chokes.]
[It's not normal choking because he shouldn't have been able to get any words out at all at first.]
[It's not normal choking because most of the time when people choke from a bit of food they don't start coughing up blood. His teeth are instantly stained from it.]
[It's not normal choking because most of the time when people choke they don't start smoking from the mouth.]
[He wheezes like someone going into anaphylaxis, and falls to his knees so sudden and hard that his glasses become slightly loose. He coughs so hard they fall right off.]
[Finally, after a few hard wheezes she manages to cough it up, with a mouthful of blood. His voice is locked into a wheeze and he keeps having to cough and spit little gobs of blood. It's not as bad as the initial bit of it - mostly superficial blood vessels in his throat burst.]
Who made this? What did you put in it? What did you do?
[It's only then that he's able to notice what just happened. That the world is suddenly less dim. He holds a hand to his temple and realizes his eyes are visible - yellow and snakelike. And he starts looking for his glasses in the shadowy grass. His vision is still recovering from the darkness that crept in from the edges as he went without oxygen.]
Ahhh...
[He segues into a lie.]
...How embarrassing. Everyone now knows about my horrific eye condition and deadly food allergy. All connected, I'm afraid. Immune disorder.
[He is so fucked.]
no subject
[He grits his teeth and struggles to finally sit up, his expression fierce. He leans his head to the left and cracks his neck, clearly mentally gearing up for a fight.]
[He takes advantage of what Tim's doing to silence Dean, to talk.]
I don't like killing, you know. Especially humans. I like humans. Used to love making clever little things for you, like the stars, all the way back before the turning of the world.
I've only ever killed other demons.
[He amends that.]
..Well. Barring the occasional deeply unpleasant, murdering, absolute monster of a human, but nobody missed, for instance, Jack the Ripper after I banished him to the moon.
[It's true. He's been able to finesse his way out of most conflicts with humans, just snap his fingers and escape.]
I could've killed you. Didn't.
I held back too long because I hoped you'd use the brains She [He points upward] gave you and realize I wasn't going to cause any trouble. Meanwhile, I can do this:
[He snaps his fingers, and sweeps his arm in a broad sweep to the side, where none of them are standing. A fire suddenly blooms there - fierce and quick-burning and hungry. The fire feels wrong, feels more menacing than normal fire. They'll all be able to feel the heat of it, the way it's almost alive, like it wants to bite, has the will to. It's not huge but definitely large enough and hot enough to quickly burn someone alive.]
[It's curved in just enough that it'd be hard for Guts to move around it without getting bit by it, since he seems like he'd be a fast one as well as strong.]
[Just as quickly as he set it alight, he closes his fist in a sudden gesture to snuff it out, not wanting it to burn long enough for them to perceive it as a threat - and not wanting to risk hurting the angel or the boy. It's suddenly there and then just as quickly gone, leaving behind blackened greenery that shouldn't have burned that fast.]
But you've got me backed into a wall now, haven't you? So you need to ask yourselves this: how much do you trust that sword hand and that mouth to beat the speed of a thought?
[He holds up a hand, ready to snap it now. It's not necessary for him to cast the fire but it represents how fast he can make it burn - in a snap. Now that he's apparently ready to fight back, he absolutely can snap it faster than Guts can stab him or Dean can finish another word of Latin.]
[He's tired of being kicked around. How much better can you be as a demon than trying to save humanity and getting kicked right out of hell?]
Maybe it's better to back away and trust that someone who'd nearly die to avoid killing you [he shakes his head] isn't. Your. Enemy.
[It's absolutely a bluff. He doesn't have that much control over the fire so he's sure as heave - hel - someplace not going to risk using it near the angel and the boy that bravely stepped in to help him. (Good lad, he'll need to thank him after this.) He has the power to end this but it's not worth the collateral - or the risk.]
[But they don't know that.]
[It's a standoff, folks. Do you feel lucky?]
no subject
You're lucky this guy's spellcasting is so damn slow. I'd have run you through against that tree if he didn't get in my way.
[ He withdraws his sword though, having seen enough to form his opinion. No longer interested in a fight, he decides to walk forward to call that bluff. If this guy could've done that the whole time, when they really wanted to kill him, then Guts doubts he'd go through with it now when he wants to talk. Plus, he's putting himself bodily between him and Dean, and there's a whole lot of him to act as a nice, sturdy wall. ]
You know what? I have a hard time believing someone as stuffy-looking as him [ thumb gesture at Aziraphale ] would speak up for a guy who was anything like the demons I know.
[ So, against his better instincts, he extends a hand to help him up. ]
You'd better not make your friend a liar.
no subject
[And he knows this is important. The fixing of this. Even if he has trouble trusting in general, even if he worries about interacting long-term with the humans (because they might only be able to see him as an evil other).]
[It seems like a genuine peace offering and that means genuinely demonstrating he has peaceful intentions back.]
I won't. [It's the unvarnished truth. He has no intentions of hurting anyone.] Hell and I had irreconcilable differences for a reason. Very messy divorce. They got custody of the dog.
[He takes Guts' hand and lets him pull him up, although the second after he lets Guts' hand go, he pitches sideways into Aziraphale.]
no subject
He flinches again when the fire goes out. He feels wide-eyed and frozen, unable to move his shaking limbs. In the back of his mind there's a voice yelling at him to get back up and restart the incantation. That's telling him to finish the damn job you useless piece of shit (if that voice sounds suspiciously like John Winchester, no one but Dean has to know). But all he can see is the blackened ground where the fire was before, there's smoke in his nose and stinging his eyes.
Sammy-- where's Sammy?
Dean looks around for one panicked second before remembering exactly where he is and what's happening.]
Fuck. [He mutters under his breath. He shakily gets back onto his feet.]
Fuck! [This one he shouts angrily. Between the people defending the damn thing and whatever fucking breakdown Dean is in the middle of, clearly this isn't happening.]
Fucking fine. Don't come to me when he burns this fucking camp to the ground. [Dean snarls.
He scrambles upright onto unsteady feet and turns to storm off in a furious, anxious huff.]
no subject
It's ultimately more the type of wince he might have if, say, a couple of smite-happy upper management sorts decided to check in while Crowley decided to pantomime things at him from the front window. The that's-not-ideal wince.
"Fussy-looking" doesn't especially faze him. He's heard worse and it's also sort of what he's going for, so put it right down the middle at neutral. While he's catching Crowley and very carefully propping him up, the look he shoots Guts, then over to Tim, is all tentative gratitude.
Could have gone far, far, far better. Certainly could have gone worse.
If he makes a note to self to try to have a talk with That Very Angry Young American Man in the future, well, he can give it a few days. He thinks he might be personally choosing to live within ten feet of Crowley for a bit, anyway.
And speaking of: there it goes. His attention. To the demon zone. ]
Crowley, could you please give it a rest and tell me where you're worst off? [ He can unfortunately only do so much now, as healing goes. Better to prioritize.
Aziraphale is willing to delay further utilization of one of his oldest weapons, "looking pleadingly at Crowley," only in the event that Crowley might prefer to be away from people before specifying more vulnerabilities. ]
no subject
On some level, Tim appreciates the demonstration of power and control, and he’ll just be filing that information away, thanks. But this is absolutely not when it should be done.
He glares at the demon as he reaches to steady Dean if needed. Despite his defense of Crowley, Tim hasn’t really taken up any one person’s side - he’s against attacking each other. ]
No, let him keep going. If I’m going to stick my neck out for someone, I like to know exactly how far they can stick their foot in their mouth first.
this will no longer broadcast on the network, but still is ->action
[He says to Aziraphale:]
Not...not here. [His voice is still croaky and sounds more trembling and vulnerable than usual.] Though I don't know where else we can go. Everyone who happened to tune in just now knows. Might have someone come up and stab me if we're near the others.
[He leans heavily on Aziraphale, struggling to walk. His entire body is completely drained of energy. He's able to stay on his feet and keep moving but only just.]
[To Tim he says:]
Did always love the taste of boot, me.
[He knows he puts his foot in his mouth on occasion.]
Look, lad, I appreciate your help. I do. But I won't just take this again. From him. [He nods in the direction Dean went.] I'll try to be patient with anyone else, give them a fair chance to back down, but he's not exactly willing to be reasoned with, so if he comes after me again when I haven't done anything...
Well, it's self defense. He's been shown I was willing to hold back. And he's been warned now I might not keep doing it if he tries to kill me again.
no subject
[ Glancing at Crowley and Aziraphale. Was it wrong to think they were kind of endearing when they bickered? He still wasn't sure what to think of that. ]
He doesn't have it, even if he is a snake bastard.
[ Guts is remarkably chill when not full of murder rage, so he levels a steady gaze as Dean storms off into the woods. He can't really blame him for reacting that way. He would have done something similar at a different point in his life, or if this situation had gone slightly differently. Assuming the result didn't end up a lot bloodier, of course. ]
Maybe someone should go talk to him.
[ head scratch. ]
no subject
He doesn't pay attention to what anyone's saying as he walks away. He's too busy berating himself for being such an idiot. He doesn't know if he's more mad at himself for trying to kill the... guy... without thinking, or for not finishing the job.
He has this raging inferno in his gut that's been there since he was a kid. One that's been stoked over a lifetime with fear and grief. One that says if he just killed the damn thing, everything would be okay. Dad would finally stay and Sammy would come home.
How's he supposed to walk away from this? The thing he's literally been trained to do since he was four years old? How's he supposed to smother the rising pain and anger that threatens to overwhelm him just from thinking about the whole situation?
Dean doesn't know, but he does know that he needs to get the hell out of here, as quickly as he can, so he stomps off into the forest without looking back.]
no subject
Best of luck to anyone inclined to escalate things for a second round, though. At a certain point the gloves must regrettably be removed. That'll be then, if it comes to it. For now things are back to quiet, and these two remaining humans seem decent enough fellows.
Bit smart-mouthed. That could apply to the majority of people in this camp. It's always had a certain charm.
Aziraphale tracks Dean's retreat while he's still in sight. It's calculating, more than anything. Curious measurement. Sympathy, no doubt, will filter in later. Always finds a way, is the thing.
He would be lying if he said he had the space to make finding it a priority right now. All things considered. ]
I'd volunteer, but I think it's a bit soon for that conversation to go over well.
[ He can't imagine he's jockeying for the title of "most tolerable of the exorcism interruptions" at present. ]
no subject
[ Twist the words around all you want, but semantics don’t change the nature of a thing. Tim is open to discussing the concept of the world being a better place without certain people in it, but privately and for things worse than one attempted murder.
Tim sighs, because he understands that no one wants to hear logic after they’ve just had someone actively try to kill them. He’s used to it, and he can’t say there isn’t sometimes the tiniest part of him that doesn’t delight at hitting someone in the face when they’ve deliberately made the situation difficult and violent. Kind of like how this little get-together went, given the mess that Crowley is. ]
You’re still bleeding.
[ The tone is sympathetic, not obnoxiously obvious, and Tim starts checking to see if he’s got anything actually clean enough to use as a bandage. He settles for tearing off a thin strip of his tunic and offers it to Crowley. ]
Here. Don’t try to put it on anything. It’s black - that doesn’t mean it’s clean. I usually keep a first aid kit handy, but it didn’t make the trip with me. I wish there was something else I could do…
[ Who knows if human methods would even work. There’s at least seven different kinds of non-humans and metahumans, by Tim’s count, which is going to make medical care difficult. One more reason why they can’t go around attacking each other.
As he considers and speaks, Tim starts to faintly glow. He trails off when he reaches about a faint nightlight brightness and streaks his hand from one side to another, then holds it up. ]
Which one of you is this?
[ The glow will get brighter, and up to two people around him will glow faintly and experience a slight heal. If they’re not hurt, they’ll feel refreshed.
Tim, on the other hand, will feel sus of all of them because he doesn’t glow under normal or normal abnormal conditions. ]
no subject
[But a second later he looks grateful for the piece of cloth. He doesn't intend to use it as a bandage presses it against the neck wound to try to help it stop bleeding. This whole bleeding all over is a process he rarely goes through.]
S'not me.
[The glow helps him feel a little better though. Less exhausted. His throat is a little less sore, the neck wound mostly stops bleeding.]
I think it can heal, though.
[He breathes out a sigh at the slight relief.]
Seems to me that's all you. You're the one glowing.
no subject
[ A very dubious look at the whole 'murder vs self-defense' thing. Yeah, sorry Tim, he's actually going to side with the flaming hellspawn with this. If a guy comes for you, trying to kill them in response is part of the risk of doing murder attempts.
He does look surprised as the guy starts to glow, and, well, it appears he didn't get picked for the surprise heal. Nice magic, guy. ]
Handy.
[ Feeling his business here is mostly resolved, Guts turns to make his leave. ]
Moss makes a good dressing. Keeps the wound clean. You can scrape some off by the river.
[ And with that handy tip for Aziraphale, he'll depart to leave them to another side of camp. ]
no subject
Young man, I would hardly set you glowing without permission after you've done us a good turn.
[ Still, any extra healing, however accidental, is a good thing to have right about now. And that is apparently what's at work.
When one starts doing something they shouldn't be able to normally, it probably seems fair to assume someone has done it to them, honestly.
Oop, what, and there goes the large one. Like a moss-knowledgeable phantom.
The sheer amount of names Aziraphale is realizing they don't have in this situation is astounding. Is this how youth culture works these days? That can't be convenient at all. ]
-- thank you!
[ It sounds more like a question than a firm statement. They're all in one camp. He can have a better go at it later. ]
no subject
I… think I should go.
[ Metahumans? Not a problem. Metahumans losing their powers? It happens. Demons? Werewolves? Vampires? Fine.
Tim himself turning into a glow worm? That heals? Tim hurries to back up, and he doesn’t stop taking slow steps backwards as he makes his excuses. ]
I’m glad you’re okay, and that he’s cooled down.
[ He points from Crowley to retreating Guts, and to Aziraphale. ]
And you can get the moss, like he said. I’m going to sort something out.
[ Like why he’s glowing. And if it’s healing or something else, before he gets too close to anyone else. He isn’t safe to be around until he knows what it is. ]
If anything happens, find Superboy. Tell him Tim sent you.
[ At this point, he’s backed up a good twenty feet without stumbling, so he takes off at a job, away from them and out of camp - in a different direction than Dean. ]