Drink Count: 29 || Take a look in the mirror and cry Lord what you're doing to me

[eyesofaserpent]

[Aziraphale is gone. Or, well... A drone, more rather. He gets a sense that this might be permanent. It's been several days now and Crowley's gone by 852 Goldberg to check and see if the angel has come out of it yet. But even his wings are gone.

It breaks his heart to see Aziraphale like this. He can never bear to stay long when he comes to check on him. It's like his whole foundation is shattering more, the longer he stays with this shell that was once the angel he desperately loves.

And now also his not!wife is a drone. What the fuck, universe?]


A. [Park: Around Noon]

[Crowley is sitting alone on a bench and feeding the ducks some bread.]


B. [Olney's Tavern: Evening]

[Cowley's behind the bar and drinking a lot more than he usually does. And not even the cocktails he normally drinks, but just scotch on the rocks. Even his wings are starting to become a reflection of his mental state, the normally sleek and immaculate appendages are untidy with the occasional falling feather.]

Comments

[eyesofaserpent]

I want to think he will be back soon.

[He looks down.]

[bread_goes_bip]

I really do hope you're right on that front. Remember, it's not like dying.

[eyesofaserpent]

Yeah... He could be back anytime, right?

[bread_goes_bip]

You really never know with Mayfield. So he might.

[eyesofaserpent]

It's cruel how they leave drones of the people who were here out and about like that.

[bread_goes_bip]

It's downright disturbing. They always look right...

[eyesofaserpent]

Yes... But the similarities are only skin deep.