un_fallen | (no subject)

Crowley has been surprisingly charitable for most of the time spent in Raguel's new apartment - criticizing everything, of course, but only in the most general way. He pronounces it barely habitable, which Raguel takes to mean that he's done a decent job. And if the shower (and by necessity, the bathroom) has slightly larger dimensions when Crowley walks out of it than when he walked in, Raguel doesn't mention it.

It's late afternoon when they step out into the hallway and furtively climb the ladder to the roof. It's not much of a view, but the sunlight through dry air casts sharp shadows that make the grunge a little harder to see.

"You don't think anyone will notice us, with the sun still up?" Raguel asks, a little nervously.

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From:

un_fallen

"That's a start," he says encouragingly. "I don't see any pieces of you still lying around on the ground."

He wisely doesn't mention the few feathers blowing around in the light breeze.

From:

aj_crawley

Which doesn't mean that Crowley hasn't noticed them.

A quick glance around, and then - a small puff of flame, and then another, and then another, until all the loose feathers that Crowley can spot are no longer there to be spotted.

"No sense taking chances," Crowley says, in complete contradiction of almost everything he's done tonight.

Still - it may be illogical, but it's not quite irrational. It's not paranoia, after all, if they really are out to get you.

Ardens sed Virens.

From:

un_fallen

"Mm," Raguel says vaguely. He's not quite looking at Crowley.

Without warning, behind and slightly to Crowley's right, there's an explosion. A huge column of flickering yellow flame roars up from the ground, billows outward and peaks more than fifteen feet in the air. After about three seconds it disappears, leaving only a distracting afterimage and a scorched place on the ground.

"Missed one," Raguel says sheepishly.

From:

aj_crawley

There are habits you pick up. Things you don't forget, like.

Crowley picks himself up off the ground for the third time, and dusts himself off.

"Please warn me, next time you plan on doing that. Yeah?"

From:

un_fallen

"Sorry," he adds, still a little embarrassed. "It wasn't supposed to be that big."

From:

aj_crawley

"I feel like I could go so many places with that, but all of a sudden, I'm just not that keen on making gratuitous fun of you."

From:

un_fallen

Presented with a potential reprieve from Crowley's teasing, Raguel... completely misses the opportunity.

"It wasn't that kind of fire," he mutters, then makes a painfully obvious attempt to change the subject. "Don't know why you have to burn them, anyway. They were just the tiny ones."

From:

aj_crawley

"Yeah," Crowley says reasonably (or as reasonably as is possible, under the mildly rattling circumstances), "but there was a fair number of them. Anyway, sometimes a small one is enough."

From:

un_fallen

"Enough to what?" he asks warily.

"Coyote made me pick mine up, too, and I don't even know what the problem was."

From:

aj_crawley

Crowley shrugs.

"Sympathetic magic is powerful. I mean, if you're looking at someone who actually knows what they're doing and who they're dealing with. And obviously you've never been... invoked." Crowley pronounces the word with mild distaste. "It's not very pleasant."

From:

un_fallen

"Invoked?" he repeats. "I can't even... I can't imagine. And then they try to make you do things?"

He isn't quite sure what would happen if someone tried to force him to do things who knew what they were doing and had some method of control. Probably nothing good. Nothing good for them, maybe.

From:

aj_crawley

"Most bargain," he says vaguely. "One soul for one heart's desire, and so forth. But if someone's got a hold of something like a feather and knows how to use it - well, there are rules."

Foxes in foxholes, and rats down ratholes, they too are hurt.

Even for things like him, there are rules.

"So - yeah. It's not very pleasant. Plus the actual summoning always makes me lose my lunch."

From:

un_fallen

"Augh," he says, looking distressed.

"Well, maybe it wasn't so silly to pick them up. She seemed to think that one would know what he was doing."

He looks around once more, but doesn't see any dark feathers dotting the landscape this time.

"So. Ready to go?"

From:

aj_crawley

That one? Crowley wonders - but doesn't press, for now. Another morsel of gossip for another night, possibly.

"When you are," he answers, shuffling his wings in the (vain) hope of dislodging a few more cactus needles.

From:

un_fallen

Raguel nods, and with a few beats of immense grey wings he's in the air, looking almost immediately back down. Crowley is hard to pick out against the darkening surface, black on black on black.

From:

aj_crawley

Crowley's a little slow to follow - not least because he'd rather avoid another collision. But a few moments pass, and then there's a muffled, airy contrapunto to the sound of Raguel's wings.

With the moon sinking below the horizon, and the stars darker now, he's little more than a collection of dim highlights - speeding up slightly to draw level with Raguel, and then settling down to the angel's pace, as they beat steadily back across the desert, towards the bright pinprick of their fire.

From:

un_fallen

It's almost the only light visible on the ground now that the points picked out by moonlight are almost gone. A few nearby towns are clearly visible from here with a few weak electrical lights, but there's more of a glow from the stars than anywhere nearby.

The flight back to the fire seems much faster than the flight out. Within a few minutes they're dropping to earth again, the fire still burning cheerfully in the middle of a perfectly healthy bush.

From:

aj_crawley

Crowley's the first to touch down, wings folding themselves quickly out of the way to make room. The shifting, altering shape of the demon's profile creates a confusing play of light and shadow as Raguel reaches the ground - just enough, perhaps, to distract from Crowley's smoothly outstretched foot.

From:

un_fallen

Raguel isn't the most graceful being on land; he's marginally better in the sky, but mainly because he's been practicing. Once he touches down he hardly has a chance. He starts, predictably enough, toward the marshmallows, and equally predictably trips over Crowley's outstretched foot.

A few frantic flaps of his wings keep him from falling face-first into the bush. Loose down (even now, there's some left) floats past them as he gets himself back under control and stops flailing long enough to give Crowley a flat look.

"Asshole," he says, with feeling.

From:

aj_crawley

"It was worth it," Crowley replies, with an incongruously sweet grin.

From:

un_fallen

"I begin to see why blackmail presents such an attractive option to people," he grumbles, stomping around and picking up the debris from their mini-campsite. There's not a lot to get; he starts by putting the leftover takeout boxes into the bag they came in.

"Hangover food," he says by way of explanation.

From:

aj_crawley

"Speak for yourself," Crowley snorts, occupying himself with the eradication of the loose down (making, it should be noted, no comment whatsoever on the state of Raguel's grooming). "I've no intention of being hungover."

Well, that, and he's likely to have burned off any remaining alcohol before sleeping. Details.

From:

un_fallen

"Hey, you suggested cold takeout as an option," he reminds him, smile returning by degrees.

"Is the flask empty, by the way?"

From:

aj_crawley

"No," he says, before bothering to check; doing so answers with a satisfying sloshing sound from the bottom of the flask.

(The power of positive thinking.)

He tosses it over.

From:

un_fallen

Raguel brightens and catches it, then takes a drink.

"Good stuff," he concludes, screwing the top back on. "Came from the bar, so. There's more in there if you want it," he adds, tossing it back.

If nothing else, it's quite warming.