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

[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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

We write terrible love songs and force anyone within earshot to listen to the turmoils of our heart, mostly.

Things I'd really rather not do...

I'm listening.

I've already told you all there is to tell, Grimsley. He's a bloody drone.

Come now. That's only the start of it. Particularly for someone who's never experienced heartache before.

I don't really want to talk about this emotional crap. I'm a demon. I shouldn't even have these bloody feelings.

Precisely why you need to talk about them. You'll probably explode if you bottle it up.

....

No I won't.

Oh, but you can't be sure. I think I see your face flushing already.

You're mad, Grimsley. I'm fine....

[He's not, but he doesn't ever want to admit it out loud. Just because he doesn't really get how this softer emotions work...]

I doubt it.

I am being serious, Crowley. If not to me, then to someone you know better. When you're ready, of course.

.........

I... I'll be fine. It's not like he won't ever come back...

Right?

[Grimsley takes a sip of his drink.]

False assurance doesn't help anyone, I'm afraid.

[He frowns.]

I want him back.

Even knowing he's likely better off where he is now?

He's probably miserable without me. Having him here made it okay.

Perhaps that's so. ...Some people live for only one other.

Should you not wish for your own departure from Mayfield, then?

I do. I desperately want to go home But this town has shown that it will only do so when it damn well pleases, not when I want it.

[Of course home doesn't mean a pristine white flat in Mayfair so much as it meant a cozy old bookshop in Soho, but who was keeping tabs.]

I could hit you repeatedly on the head and hope for some progress amnesia-wise.

You'd have to erase my whole life, mate.

You could burn houses do until they droned you as punishment.

I really don't want to be droned again if I can help it...

So hard to please.

[Grimsley sighs a little.]

Well. As the saying goes, I suppose you'll have to lump it. ...Get yourself more alcohol.

More alcohol sounds brill.

[He pours and drinks another scotch.]

[Grimsley takes a few more sips himself.]

What did you like about him, Crowley? Out of idle curiosity.

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eyesofaserpent - 2012-05-24 08:15 (UTC) - Expand

kingofshadows - 2012-05-25 00:57 (UTC) - Expand

eyesofaserpent - 2012-05-30 06:47 (UTC) - Expand