sometimes i think it's getting better but then it gets much worse (CLOSED)

[atreefull]

WHO: Aziraphale & Crowley
WHAT: Reconvening after their quests
WHERE: Kyst, in Aziraphale's newly inherited shop
WHEN: Post this and this
WARNINGS: Blood, threats of murder, two occult beings in over their heads

( Aziraphale stands, clutching the book to his chest for a long moment, staring at the corpse and the message scrawled there for -- he loses track of time, actually, until he fumbles for his compass and the one person he knows he can trust without question, without hesitation. )

Ah, Crowley? When you get this -- if you could just pop on by the Kyst bookshop, I would appreciate it.

( He does a poor job of concealing how unnerved he is, but there is an effort. )

Comments

[freeatlast]

[It takes a while before Crowley has access to his compass again; the depths of Odii Prison make for very poor reception. When he finally trudges his way out, still shaken, entirely unnerved, but all the wiser for his conversation with the Bone Carver, there’s a message waiting for him and he’s in such a foul mood that he doesn’t even think that he’s capable of dealing with anyone else.

But a cursory glance shows the sender, and bless it all how is he supposed to talk to Aziraphale after his conversation with a man that had worn the angel’s face? The tone is worrisome, however, but for a scant few seconds he can’t help but wonder if this is another one of the Bone Carver’s tricks. With a shake of his head he tries to rid himself of the doubt and suspicion, instead thumbing over his compass until he’s able to activate the voice function.]

Yeah, hold on a few, angel. I’ll be there when I can.

[He should really stop back at his place in the Court, first, see what the Warlock’s book has to say about all this. That’d been the reason he’d made this blasted journey in the first place.

His quick stop back, however, turns into something horrible.

It does take a while, there’s a mess to clean up and too much to process, but Crowley eventually finds his way back to Kyst and trudges down the street until the bookshop is in sight. There’s something wrong, the window’s all busted up, and after the bad omen that’d been left for him in his room he’s entirely done with things going sideways.]

Angel?

[He pushes the door open, but the sight that greets him, Aziraphale and why is there so much blood gives him pause.]

…Oh.

[atreefull]

( Aziraphale has been spending his time pacing back and forth, wringing his hands and doing what he can to tidy up before being distracted by the corpse and the blood and the message. He doesn't like not knowing what to do, and he certainly doesn't like feeling guilty. It's rather an unknown feeling, all told, because most of his peculiarities he can write away as being an angel and doing his duty on earth.

Crowley is coming by, he reminds himself, and for some reason that's far more reassuring than it should be. But whenever he's stumbled or tripped or gotten himself into a pickle, Crowley is there with a way out. He appreciates it, wouldn't know exactly what to do without it, except have gone through a rather large number of bodies.

For all that he invited the other man over, Crowley's entrance still startles him -- the bell jingling above the door and his words cutting through the silence that'd fallen. )

Oh! ( Very forthcoming. But Aziraphale takes stock of Crowley's own wane expression, the tightness around his eyes, and finds that most of his worry about the dead corpse on the ground melts away for a moment. ) Crowley, my dear -- are you alright?

( The endearment slips from him as easily as anything, and Aziraphale doesn't seem to notice. All he can think about is making sure that Crowley himself is well before going on about what to do with this new development in their plans. Aziraphale's plans, mostly, but they were working together, after all. He attempts to sidestep some blood while making his way towards the other man, and might actually use a minor miracle to keep his feet above it.

Who's going to blame him, anyway? )

[freeatlast]

[It's the small slip that almost breaks him, that concern and fondness that radiates through each of Aziraphale's words, even as they're both treated to the gory display before them. Of course, leave it to an angel to worry over someone like this, even in the worst of times. The fact itself sparks feelings deep in Crowley's chest (guilt, pleasure) that he'd rather like to avoid for the time being. His chat with the Bone Carver has unnerved him, even moreso than the obvious threat left back at his room, and it's a bit hard to face his old friend without being reminded of what had happened at the prison.]

'm fine. You're the one that looks like you've got a whole lot of trouble on your hands.

[Which is a very nice way to put it. The bookshop is a mess, there's blood everywhere, and something very, very nasty scrawled out across the wall that he's not too keen on. It's a bit too close of a parallel to what he'd found in his room, though he tries not to think too closely about that. It had to be a coincidence, right? Two dead people, two crazy messages, they couldn't have any sort of relation to each other.]

What even happened here? Looks like something my lot would've done, thought with a little less flash.

[atreefull]

( There's a war in him over the desire to call Crowley on it; they've known each other for six thousand years, and Aziraphale isn't a fool -- he knows when something is eating the other man. Or when he's not saying something. Swallowing it down, he gives him one long glance before nodding. Crowley will mention it later, perhaps, if it's important.

He twists uncomfortably at Crowley's remark, his hands twisting in front of him as well, nervous and stressed. )

Mm, yes. I suppose it does. ( He doesn't like that thought at all. ) No, I was-- well, actually, I'd just come back from following up a lead. About the beginning of this all.

( Doing what they did best -- trying to find more about this place they've ended up in, trying to get answers for once. Everything seems to be happening so quickly he can barely keep pace. Hopefully there will be a little time for him to get everything together before it all spirals out of control again. Aziraphale comes to stand next to Crowley, a hand wavering over his arm before Aziraphale thinks better of it and twists them in front of him again. )

It seems like someone knows, and isn't pleased.

[freeatlast]

A lead…

[The similarities are there, far too obvious to ignore now that Aziraphale has spoken. It complicates things to an extreme degree, means that there’s definitely something sinister going on behind the scenes. The realization brings with it a flash of anxiety, but Crowley is surprised that he’s much more angry than anything else. He’s angry about the invasion of his privacy, angry that someone or someones were attempting to intimidate the both of them, but mostly he’s angry that this unknown person or persons had dared to threaten his friend.

He shoves his hands in his pockets, hissing under his breath as he tries to regain his composure. Getting mad won’t help, at least it won’t help right now, and right now Aziraphale is standing next to him looking entirely shaken up and unnerved which means that he has to try to cool his jets a bit and bring some calm back to the situation.]

Suppose yeah, looks like someone’s got something to hide.

[Does he tell the other entity about what he’d found in his own room? On one hand, the scene in the bookshop is definitely where their attention should be, but on the other it doesn’t feel right hiding anything from Aziraphale. Demons may lie, but he’d always been honest with the angel, and it would feel decidedly wrong to break that now.]

Had something similar waiting for me in my room. ‘s why it took me a bit to get here. I think you’re right: someone’s not happy that we’re poking our noses into stuff.

[It feels a little too nonchalant to just drop things like that, so he frowns and continues.]

Not…exactly this. Different.

[He nods down towards the body, wrinkling his nose.]

Poor bastard, though. Wrong place wrong time you think?

[And ever the demon-]

Suppose we gotta get rid of them, don’t we?

[atreefull]

( Something similar? Aziraphale tosses out any reservations he has to wrap a hand around Crowley's arm, turning a worried expression towards him -- had someone threatened him? If they had -- well, Aziraphale feels much the same as the hissing signifies Crowley does. Crowley is a demon, that much is certain, but he's -- he's an entirely unique and different breed that makes the thought of anyone threatening him feel wrong. Aziraphale didn't give him holy water out of fear that Crowley would use it on himself; he's not going to lose him after everything.

So his hand stays where it is, and concern floods his voice. )

Different how? If anyone has you in their sights, I'll--

( He's not sure what he'll do, but it probably involves his sword. He coughs, clearing his throat and attempting to unruffle his feathers. )

Just be careful, Crowley. I shouldn't like to find you, well. Like this.

( His hand squeezes Crowley's arm once more, in emphasis and reassurance before he turns to the matter at hand. However gruesome it is, he's still got a corpse to deal with. And the blood, and broken shelves, and all those books-- )

I'd like to take them back to their family. If they have one -- I realize now I never asked. It just, well. It hadn't seemed important at the time. ( Sadness clouds his face at that, and guilt, too. ) I think right time, right place for their purposes. If it's a message for me, what better than the person who offered me a job in the first place?

[freeatlast]

[There's a hand at his arm but given the circumstances, Crowley isn't going to fuss or protest. The heat of Aziraphale's touch is grounding, keeps him focused on the here and now, and even if he's trying to play cool it's very obvious that the demon isn't entirely on point.]

Angel.

[He risks reaching up and putting his hand over Aziraphale's, a gesture that he supposes is supposed to be, eurgh, comforting. At least something to stop him from fussing, though admittedly that would be a hard bargain.]

I'll be fine. 's been six thousand years and no one's gotten the better of me, not like it's going to happen now.

[Perhaps it's a bit cocky to say that, but Crowley's confident of things. He's made an entire existence out of being able to slip out of trouble at a moment's notice, after all.

But then Aziraphale continues on, and he can't help but groan and roll his eyes to the ceiling. Leave it to the angel to be so worried about any particular human, but there's a pain in Aziraphale's eyes that give him pause and stops the sarcastic quip that's on the tip of his tongue.]

....right, alright. I mean, we could just-

[He finally lets go, waving his hand over towards the mess.]

it away. Send it back where it's supposed to go.

[atreefull]

( His hand rests like that, with the warmth of Crowley's over his -- letting the words soak in. He's right, perhaps -- if there's anyone who knows how to slither out of a sticky situation, it's Crowley. A moment, and then Aziraphale turns his hand over so that he can wrap his fingers around the occult being's hand, thumb sliding over his knuckles in reassurance and open fondness. This is dangerous, he can't help but think, to indulge his feelings when Crowley doesn't know that's what he's doing.

But he's selfish, a little desperate, and he aches just to have the demon near and safe. )

The traps have changed. It's a new world, my dear, who's to say that the same rules apply? After everything we've been through-- ( A shake of his head. ) It would be quite a dull existence without you. You know that.

( He squeezes Crowley's hand, and while he doesn't quite let it go, lets their hands fall -- his fingers remain intertwined with Crowley's for as long as the demon will let him. Attention turning back to the corpse, he frowns. That's one way to solve it, yes, but at the same time... )

Without any explanation? I suppose I could write a note and we could... send them on their way with that, but I think seeing the corpse of your loved one with their head bashed in without warning could do more damage than help.

[freeatlast]

[”My dear". There it is again, the endearment drops so casually from Aziraphale’s lips and it’s becoming concerningly distracting. Crowley tries to think, has this been a recent development or has his angelic counterpart always been fond of saying such things? It isn’t something that he should be thinking about, nor is it something that should pique a spark of warmth deep in his chest. He squashes the feeling down, almost afraid at what it might mean. Focus. There’s a task at hand, a dead body, that’s the important thing right now.]

We didn’t face down the bloody apocalypse just to get whacked by something in this strange new world, Angel.

[Leave it to Aziraphale to worry over everything, though, and though Crowley may roll his eyes and sputter a bit, he does see the point. Even if he doesn’t want to. Humans could be very touchy about things like death and-

Well if he stops to think about it, if Aziraphale’s body were to just show up-

He doesn’t follow that train of thought.

Instead he huffs, narrowing his eyes and furrowing his brows in thought. There’s no…real good way to dispose of a corpse without being noticed, and certainly this probably qualifies as ‘suspicious circumstances’ so people are bound to try to butt in.]

I mean…what do we just do then, stroll up and ‘oh hi, nice weather we’re having by the way your relative got done in, here’s the body, have a nice day!’

[atreefull]

( He wants to argue the point -- who's to say this is how things are supposed to go, they don't have a plan anymore, before Aziraphale reminds himself that this might as well be part of the Ineffable Plan. Somehow. And the Almighty hasn't struck him or Crowley down for it yet; so instead he just squeezes Crowley's hand once before letting his hand fall, joining the other in twisting nervously in front of him. )

No, no I suppose we didn't. But it certainly seems like something wants us to-- how did you put it? "Get whacked".

( Such an unwieldy, crude phrase. But it does the trick.

At Crowley's quick wit, Aziraphale frowns. That's not what he had in mind at all! )

Perhaps a bit more... tactfully. Something like, oh, "sorry, I've gone and accidentally gotten your relative killed, no hard feelings"? I am terribly sorry about that, you know, and even if they end up hating me for it, they should know the truth.

[freeatlast]

[There's almost a sense of loss as Aziraphale pulls his hand away, and Crowley stubbornly does his best to ignore it. The slight contact had been...grounding, at least, in the wake of everything that's happened, and though he would be entirely reticent to ever admit it, it was. Not 'nice'. Nice wasn't a word in a demon's vocabulary. But. Enjoyable, perhaps.

He's free to move now, however, and he takes a few steps closer to the corpse, squatting down to try and get a better look. It's a grizzly thing, shows all the marks of a brutal and unpolished job, and that in itself is actually fairly worrying. Either whomever had done this was a right twit and didn't have any idea what they were doing, or-

or they were purposely trying to be as dreadful as possible to spark that much more of a reaction. Crowley has the sinking feeling that it's the latter.]

You're not the one that killed 'em, so I mean, the relatives shouldn't feel too poorly about you. Humans get done in all the time, this is just...one of those times. With weird timing and inane stuff scribbled on the wall.

[Sighing, Crowley spares a look back, catching Aziraphale's gaze over the top of his glasses.]

More worried about how we'd get the body along without anyone else noticing. Inconvenient, that's what this is.

[atreefull]

( Aziraphale leaves Crowley to it, and begins using small miracles to put the shop together -- or at least clearing the area around the body. Whoever it was had made their intent clear; the windows mend even as he winces. It's the most obvious use of his miracles that he's done while here. It's second hand nature to him by now, and he tends to fall back on what's comfortable, what he's used to when he's stressed.

It's why he called Crowley.

At his words, however, Aziraphale frowns. )

It wasn't me who killed them, but they died because I was digging. If I hadn't, they'd still be alive. ( He catches Crowley's gaze, hands twisting together in front of him once more. ) This is a threat, Crowley. And I-- well. No one's really threatened me like this before. There've been guns and knives, of course, but this?

( He shutters, still rattled but trying to swallow it down again. )

Do you think we could mask it somehow? Throw a sheet over them?

[freeatlast]

[At that, Crowley shoots a look back over, watching as Aziraphale tuts around the shop and tries to keep some modicum of sensibility. There's guilt to his tone, Crowley doesn't like that, and he sets his mouth in tight line, eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses.]

Not your fault, angel.

[There's much more to it then just those words. There's a part of Crowley that wants to go over, to offer whatever comfort a vile thing like him possibly could, but he stamps the urge down. Even still, there's something that twists tight in his chest as he watches the angle fuss.]

It's a threat, yeah. But we'll figure it out. Just like we'll figure the whole body thing out. Nothing is going to happen, I swear on that.

[Not literally, but the sentiment is true all the same.]

Look. The humans are going to find out about this, aren't they? Do we just...turn the body over to them? They seem to know what to do with them.

[atreefull]

( Aziraphale sighs, his eyes flicking over to Crowley as he pauses in his idle, nervous cleaning. )

I-- well, thank you, Crowley. Even if I'm having difficulty telling myself that. ( That it isn't his fault. A pause, as he wavers on continuing. But he does, eventually, decide that he might as well. ) At times like these I remember why we always kept ourselves ever so slightly apart from them.

( He loves humanity, he loves humans, but he'd never really felt as if he was one of them for the simple fact that he wasn't. Aziraphale would never age, would never die in any way that mattered, and would always continue on alongside them but never part of them. This... place is different, and he hasn't quite figured out how to deal with that yet. )

Alright-- I, I believe you. ( He has faith in Crowley, for however much that's worth to the demon. ) Hm, I suppose we could. They might have better luck at finding out who did this, and who to inform.