After eight long, wobbly breaths, Crowley - with considerable difficulty - rolls over onto his back. His hands leave imprints in the mud, but they don't last long.
It's not that he looks more himself, but rather less, as his body gently overlays his features with a semblance of humanity, weathering them into the sort of face that actually exists 'round these parts; the harsher jaw and angular hairline that say male, the tiny crooked tilt to his mouth, the faint blue tracery of veins beneath his eyes.
One ear is a quarter-inch higher than the other.
He's staring up at Raguel's wing, the one above his head, like he doesn't really see it.
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After eight long, wobbly breaths, Crowley - with considerable difficulty - rolls over onto his back. His hands leave imprints in the mud, but they don't last long.
It's not that he looks more himself, but rather less, as his body gently overlays his features with a semblance of humanity, weathering them into the sort of face that actually exists 'round these parts; the harsher jaw and angular hairline that say male, the tiny crooked tilt to his mouth, the faint blue tracery of veins beneath his eyes.
One ear is a quarter-inch higher than the other.
He's staring up at Raguel's wing, the one above his head, like he doesn't really see it.