Sauntered Vaguely Downward

[ineffablyevilss]

AS CROWLEY STARED

into what the scientists replaced his beautiful 1926 black Bentley with, he was certain that if he had a heart, he would have been completely and unequivocally heartbroken. Even without the working organ, he felt as disappointed as a date stood up at prom. Of all things that they could have given him, it had to be a Barbie Power Wheel Jeep. The abomination must have been Above's work. Though Aziraphale wouldn't mingle with toy manufacturing, it had an angel's fingerprints figuratively smoothed over the hood. There was no way that the Pit could come up with something so monstrous.

With a low hiss, the serpent plopped down on the trunk of the Jeep. The second his butt hit plastic, the soothing melody of Another One Bites the Dust began to belt out from the AAA battery powered pretend radio. It seemed that even a social experiment couldn't rip Freddie Mercury from any automobile Crowley came in contact with.

It wasn't so much the fact that he was kidnapped that got him down (though he had no doubt that he would be hearing about this from Someone sooner or later). It was the fact that he would still be expected to fill out his quota of corrupting souls while having his powers limited. After the Apocalypse That Wasn't, Below had been keen on finding another reason to sentence Crowley to an eternity of torture and this definitely could lead to it. (He wouldn't lie that the missing Bentley had a huge part in it, too, but Crowley had to at least pretend to keep his priorities straight.) Right now, the most demonic thing he'd done was maybe annoy a few people by disturbing the peace with his racket.

Just then an idea came and struck him. Maybe not a good idea, but it should still count as something Bad. He was told that he could only bring three mundane things from raw firmament a day (Freddie Mercury probably counted as one). But really, what was considered 'mundane'? The demon intended to find out as he made a vague hand gesture to the hood of the Jeep. With a cute sputter, the toy's tiny little engine was replaced with something a bit more powerful. Nothing that could surpass 100 mph, this wasn't the Bentley after all, but strong enough to go over the advertised 2.5 mph. He hopped off the toy in order to better position it before setting it loose, smiling smugly to himself once he heard it crash into an unsuspecting person.

"Whoops. Sorry about that."

[ineffablyevilss]

▓moving to citta alveare▓

[gothicswords-blog]

+ Gimme something sweet +

[gothicswords-blog]

So, not a magician but a ‘Representative of the Pit’. Whatever the fuck that was. It didn’t matter much to Stocking because as long as she got what she wanted, she was more than content. Taking another bite out of the flan, the girl chewed thoughtfully, eyes focused on the male in front of her. 

If he could do something like this, then there had to be other things he was capable of as well. 

“Alright. So what else can you do, then? Entertain me.” It was a clear demand and the demon secretly hoped he would just do as she said.  This school was too fuckin’ boring. She could certainly use a little spice.

“Did we even introduce ourselves?” She added on as a second thought, “I’m Stocking. You’ve probably heard of my sister, Panty. If you haven’t then consider yourself damn lucky.”

[ineffablyevilss]

Huh. 'Panty' and 'Stocking'... Well, they certainly weren't... typical names. It was actually a little concerning! Crowley wasn't sure if it could even be considered demonic to name your children after undergarments, but it definitely wasn't something the Other Side would condone. The girl's parents must've been a real piece of work to come up with that. 

"Name's Crowley," the serpent finally said distractedly once he got his marbles back in order. Truth be told, part of his mind was still working around the names. It was possible that 'Panty' and 'Stocking' were names that the girls picked for themselves--after all Crowley had picked his own name shortly after Man's Fall. Though why someone would want to be named after lingerie was beyond him. 

Typically, Crowley didn't appreciate being ordered around--it was something he resorted to only for Beelzebub-level authority and Higher, or when he was under the contract of a Deal. But the girl's name had thrown him to such a loop that it was hard acknowledging that it was a command. "I can do standard demon stuff. Occults, you know--" obviously not miracles--"You're gonna have to be a bit more specific if you want me to actually show you anything."

[nachtlieder-deactivated20140716]

†→ rekindling old flames [open]

[He’d been slow to react to (what he’d come to call out of a mock reverence) the Incident - slower than he’d have preferred, anyway, efficient as he’d been with matters of vengeance back in the day.]

[But this here - now - was an effort to do something. Personal grudges were a foreign thing as far as the prank victim is concerned, keen as he was by nature to keep interaction to a minimum, but - regardless - impulse still ruled the mind; even setting aside impulse as a factor, to acquit the party responsible for switching candles with…candles of a far more dubious nature would be unacceptable.]

[And so, a new (albeit significantly less macabre) campaign of revenge was set in motion. In comparison to his repertoire of the past, it was shamefully modest: there was no composing, no rehearsing, no performing here, but instead simple, direct action. Between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand was one of the unlit pseudo-candles salvaged in the aftermath, and as unique a thing it is, he’d reasoned that to find somebody who knows what it truly was would be to find the criminal. True, he himself wasn’t particularly hopeful that such a plan of action would work, but all the same did he approach the very with person whom had had the misfortune to catch his eye; barely allowing them a second to comprehend the situation, he leant towards the first of his suspects without even a hint of self-consciousness, all but forcing the false candle upon them.]

❝What is this?❞

[…Taking it for granted, of course, that the poor soul he’d approached quite suddenly would know what the pseudo-candle truly was. (They had a greater chance of knowing so much than he did, at any rate.) Stern as he was in expression, even demeanour as a whole, however, his appeal no doubt lost a good portion of its gravitas for the sole, simple reason that he’d genuinely thought it to be in his best interests that he don a glove before handling the firework lest it spontaneously combust in his hand. Now, in and of itself, this wasn’t a problem; rather, the problem was that the only ‘glove’ of sorts he had to hand - so to speak - took the form of a felt chicken.]

[Peculiarly, by this he didn’t seem the least bit fazed, no doubt too preoccupied with finding the prank’s culprit more than anything else, and - actually - a lot could be said about his determination here: he was capable of nothing less than remaining completely straight-faced as he clutched the prank prop between the two wings of the chicken hand-puppet.]

[ineffablyevilss]

Today's Deed of the Day actually involved the school: start a no-holds-barred food fight that overtook the entire cafeteria. It probably could've been considered as petty or small change, but once fisticuffs were thrown in, Crowley was sure that no one would complain about it. The demon walked away from the scuffle, willing away any specks of food that might have gotten on his suit, only to be stopped midway by the composer. When Crowley said that they should talk again, he hadn't been expecting it to be so soon. He stared down at the offered stick and blinked owlishly. For someone who seemed as far from modern as Hastur and Ligur, Marchen sure seemed to have a lot of run ins with it. The serpent took the offending item and turned it in his hand.

"This? 's a firework. People set them off whenever they want to celebrate something--or if they want to be annoying sods." Crowley returned the firework back to the composer's hand with a stifled laugh. He could only imagine what could have possibly happened to Marchen to get him so perturbed over such a little thing.

"But, you know, there are better ways to ask me to light your candle, darling." As if to keep true to his word, the fuse combust, shortening the now burning wick to mere centimeters. Apparently the demon was one of those 'annoying sods'.

[titusflatchestxius]

the stars are suns;

[titusflatchestxius]

All this magic that was being used, the other wondered how it all worked. There weren’t that many people who could use magic in that way and certainly, he couldn’t make things appear at will like that. Well it was used for things that weren’t alive in a sense so maybe that was it. Well what he thought once the blanket had appeared for the other to sit upon. Curious, the blonde moved a hand over to grab the fabric wondering if it was actually there. with proof had he moved away his fingers and back to his own personal space. Now this was where things got more exciting, the Magician clapped his hands together when they’re going to play a little game.

Some trading thing. That didn’t seem all too bad, it was just question and answer. It seemed pretty easy so the blonde had given a nod, showing that he was going to agree to the rules. Was he suppose to ask a certain question first? Since he believed that it was all the same, which it possibly was. ❝Yes, what’s England. Is around here or..?❞ Wait, he was suppose to ask one, now he had added another which he spoke up once more just so he could take it back. Hopefully he didn’t cheat or something, he was just a very curious person and didn’t mean for that extra question to slip out. He wondered what Crowley wanted to know from him, it was easy to see that Titus didn’t know much so he was somewhat worried. What could there be to ask him?

❝Hey Crowley, I know you might want to ask me things but who’s to say I know anything. So make sure you ask a question that I might be able to answer for you. I don’t want to be on the telling end and leave you with silence.❞ Maybe he was going to ask him something about cats, Titus knew a lot about them. Since back at home, there was this one cat that he grew to adore. Even became a good friend of him and the rest of his gang. Even Marga enjoyed the feline, hopefully he was okay back home. And then again, Satan was something he could answer about too. Anything from paw pads to the fickle nature that they had, Titus understood them enough to answer.

[ineffablyevilss]

"Well, alright." It was a waste of a first question, but Crowley did give the boy fair warning. A shame, really. He would have thought that allowing someone a free question to a demon would produce something a bit more interesting. Then again, Titus didn't know about his demon status, did he? Just that he could do some type of 'magic'. 

With a mild sigh, Crowley pulled out his cell phone--it was the super high tech type that came with a hundred useless apps that could a hundred unless things. It'd cost a small fortune to anyone else, but Crowley had willed one into his possession just last week. As he opened up the internet, the serpent typed in 'England' into the search bar.

"England is a country that is part of the United Kingdom. England's terrain mostly comprises low hills and plains, especially in central and southern England. It's quite far away from here, several thousand miles." He pocketed the phone for now since it had served its purposes. "One of the bigger cities, Manchester, was one of my bigger accomplishments."

[halharlinfigar]

Beep beep faggots

[halharlinfigar]

Had he given away too much? Aladdin could feel the other’s eyes on him, and it made the Magi wonder if he had said more than he should have. It wasn’t that he wanted his status to be kept need-to-know, but he wasn’t sure what a demon—someone he thought was part of Al Sarmen their first encounter—would do. He wanted them to be able to remain friends—and not in the way he and Sinbad were friends, either. Actual friends that held no hidden agendas.

His worries seemed to be unnecessary, though. Crowley’s attitude didn’t change, and in fact he offered the child a ride! If anything, he seemed much nicer and willing to not hold Aladdin accountable for the crime against his Bentley.

Instead of opening the door, the Magi used his gravity magic to float inside—he wasn’t sure how much the demon would like it if he actually touched the car again, so he was playing it safe. He then gently plopped himself down in the seat beside his demonic companion.

Despite himself, he was actually a bit nervous. It was one thing riding Mor’s shoulders, his turban, or even flying by himself—but a car was cramped and last time he was in it, it not only turned sideways but it even crashed into a tree! He had no doubts Crowley knew what he was doing, but that didn’t stop him from being a bit on edge. 

“Oh, so you use those? They look funny.” he said, eyeing the keys. Now he knew why the car didn’t want to work for him; he didn’t have the right parts to make it go! “Where will it go once you make it work?”

[ineffablyevilss]

Crowley watched with interest as Aladdin floated his way over into the passenger seat, not so much because of the flying itself, but that he didn't have wings or flies to do it. Something to note. Once the boy was firmly in place, the seatbelt moved on its own and clicked into its lock with a glance from the serpent. He was a demon, but the thought of having a kid get flown off from a topless vehicle and splatter on the concrete wasn't something he fancied. 

"They're car keys." He jingled them as if that proved a point. "Humans need them to operate a car since it turns on the ignition. I personally don't need them, but since I'm showing you how a car works I should drive like a human, hmm?" Crowley didn't even need to put his hands on the stirring wheel to drive--in fact, he had once read a book of Special Prophecies while the Bentley practically drove on its own.

Once he placed the keys and turned them in the ignition, the engine of the Bentley roared to life, the car itself rumbled softly as it awaited the next move. "That's the beauty of cars, Aladdin. We can go wherever we want. Tell me the things you like and I'll take you to them."

[ineffablyevilss]

IT HAD TAKEN TWO MONTHS,

[nachtlieder-deactivated20140716]

[To have expected the representative to recognise what he’d said as the whole truth would have been to be far more optimistic than what his character allowed, really. Indeed, there was no objection to the vague answer given, but that the other  had had the right mind to allude to a future meeting was sufficiently telling. (Besides, he possessed more respect for the other than to think him enough of an idiot to accept his words at face value.) Crowley’s for-the-moment satisfaction with what had been divulged thus far, however, admittedly surprised the conductor a touch: he’d much anticipated his fib to be acknowledged, yes, but he’d also much anticipated - albeit incorrectly, he now found - the coaxing for more information to continue at least for a little while longer.]

[Ultimately, he shouldn’t complain, even if it was merely by way of internal-monologuing: this was him essentially being released early, after all. He didn’t fail to notice that the two of them were still joined at the hands, though nor did he fail to pick up on him… - what is it they said? - ‘calling it a day’. Whilst he was actually satisfied with the way things had concluded (it had taken a while, granted, but they’d managed to establish civil conversation eventually nevertheless), not a sign of relief was betrayed: his voice was no longer coloured by a hint of irritation, as it had been in the Bentley, for it was once again as bland as was custom - but, then again, this had been the case for some time already. As though to offer consolation for this absence of outward relief, the mock-intimacy - just as he’d recently learnt to do - was returned, he himself as straight-faced as ever—]

❝It’s been a pleasure, mein Schatz - in fact, I’m sure to talk again in the future would be as much a pleasure as it has been today.❞

[…No. Was that actually too smarmy a retort? Bearing in mind his company at present, returning his address with one even more unctuous was quite a feat, but— Goodness, he’d never parted with these pet-names in Elise’s company, be it in jest or otherwise. Anyway, in reality, there was little wrong with this mild approach to conversation, and so in this respect were his words partially serious - but the words which followed were that bit more sincere in tone, rather amusingly.]

❝Aware as I am of the possibility of tempting fate here, I’d be quite content in all later conversations taking place outside of your ‘car’ from beginning to end. Just as an incidental.❞

[ineffablyevilss]

It'd be a lie to say that Crowley didn't perk up slightly once Märchen mentioned the word 'tempting'--after all, that's what Crowley excelled at. Then again, it quickly dwindled down when the composer finished his sentence. Bit of a let down, really. He would've thought that the other would be tired of criticizing his driving, but that was apparently not true.

"You'd be missing out, but I'll try to make note of that if it'll make you feel better." The key word here being 'tried' as Crowley was never one to put effort into keeping a promise unless it was the Binding sort of Deal. Imagine the implications that could form if he were to do such a Good thing! Below already had their murmurs about the Serpent of Eden having Gone Native--and these increased after the Apocalypse-That-Wasn't--Crowley would've hated to give the Adversary another reason to be even more tart with him.

Finally letting go of Märchen's hand, the demon snaked a grin. "Now, will you be walking back to Tancho or shall we get back into the Bentley?" 

[titusflatchestxius]

the stars are suns;

[titusflatchestxius]

It wasn’t more so giant plants, something on the lines of it being a vine whip at first but let’s not get into that. The blonde stood there before crouching down to sit on his behind, standing wasn’t anything he wanted to do for so long. But he did appreciate the fact that the other told him what that word meant, well he didn’t exactly state the definition other than it was an England term? What is England? That didn’t exist? Well it had to since the word originated from there. Looking up, the blonde wondered, ❝What’s England?❞ He would have to get a map sooner or later, he was surely lacking in the history of things now. He even thought that the Laem Empire still existed somewhere which, one day, he would come to be wrong.

Patting the spot next to him in a way to ask for the other to sit next to him, ❝Tell me about this England, where is it. What’s there? Will you tell me, I won’t ask you about another place since I still don’t know what that other word means.❞ He was always interested by so much, except the things that seemed a threat to his life. Like the car but since the ride was pleasant, and he actually thought it wasn’t all that bad. He could enjoy it again in the near future.

❝I heard that saying a lot too back home, it wasn’t said to me but it doesn’t matter. First time for everything I suppose but thank you, I would like to think that I’m brimming with lots of life too. Same for you.❞ As that was said, the blonde removed his vision off the other and stared at the ground. He always liked to think that but oh no, he shouldn’t be thinking about that at this moment. He was suppose to be enjoying the night sky that was filled with twinkling lights.

[ineffablyevilss]

Crowley turned his gaze down at the spot that the magician patted. It wasn't like the idea of sitting down wasn't appealing to the demon, but well, sitting down on the grass could ruin a good suit. Of course it was then that Crowley remembered that he was a demon that could will practically anything from raw firmament. Silly thing to forget, really. Without even lifting a finger, he produced a thick blanket and laid it out on the area next to Titus before plopping down himself. An extremely small part of him thought to be concerned about using his occults so freely in front of someone uninvolved with either Side--but honestly, when did he ever care? He'd done it in front of the boy before anyway.

As Crowley listened to the blonde, he quickly came to the conclusion that things were going nowhere fast. It didn't help that the boy was clearly hiding something and seemed intent to ask him all these questions that a 5th grader should know. Maybe after this he could escort Titus to the library. It seemed obvious that the boy needed a refresher course on the Modern World. 

"Thank you," Crowley accepted the compliment without even gloating on the fact that he'd been 'brimming with life' for well over 6,000 years. "I'll tell you what, Titus. How about we do a little trade? Clearly you're bursting with curiosity and I've practically all the knowledge of this world--" not so much of a lie as a gross exaggeration-- "and I've still got questions for you, so... We'll trade off. You ask a question, I'll answer, and then I'll ask a question and you answer. With that in mind, are you sure you want 'What's England' to be your first question?"

[ineffablyevilss]

IT HAD TAKEN TWO MONTHS,

[nachtlieder-deactivated20140716]

[The other probably wouldn’t be particularly pleased to hear that his efforts no longer had any effect. The cyclical car journey as an experience shared the same fate as the memory of those seven years in the bowels of the well: that the car journey had happened in the first place sadly wasn’t forgotten, but by this point - his feet once again firmly on the ground - he’d managed to bury recollection of the torturous experience in the recess of his mind; by and large, his usually level of composure had returned, disturbed now only by the hand-holding and the occasional pet-names (and even then, the mock-intimacy wasn’t as effective in disarming him as it was initially).]

❝…Mm. You ask for rather personal information from somebody with whom you’ve only just become acquainted.❞

[A though accidentally given a voice, nothing more - he’d decided earlier that he wasn’t going to be so tenacious as to challenge his kidnapper (all the more so in light of said kidnapper being a demon), after all. Quite why he - on behalf of his superiors - wanted to be privy to this vein of knowledge, Märchen could only so much as hazard a guess: as anybody would, he had his doubts that the reason was a positive one, but beyond that… Nothing. Then again, that sort of thing didn’t bear thinking about anyway, and so in this particular instance did ignorance bring bliss. Despite his own belief that little more need be given by way of personal information, he complied all the same, if with no less apprehension than previously seen - talk seemed to gradually creep closer to unearth that which he’d rather keep to himself.]

❝Never mind. I’ll share with you now the basics of what it is I do, much as I presume you need not report the theatrics of it all to your…superior. I’d said so much before, actually, during mutual introductions: I compose, I conduct. ‘Specialist in music of execution’. Nothing grander by way of ‘special powers’ or anything of the sort, I fear to say.❞

[(White-lying, of course, even if he had had the decency to at least allude to the primary occupation. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if Crowley continued to push for more detail, disappointing as his answer was, but he’d rather not discover from experience Down Below’s general stance on necromancy.)]

❝Whether I have a soul, however, is something that remains a— a grey area, forgive the phrase. I, myself, wouldn’t think so, but perhaps I do - I’m not the best to say, I should think.❞

[ineffablyevilss]

Obviously Crowley didn't believe that was all there was to Märchen's answers. Only an idiot would think that to be the whole truth--and while Milton may have interpreted an angel Falling as a loss of Reason and Logic, that simply was not the case1. Now it was just a matter of how he would proceed to get the rest out of the composer. If one could ignore the slight complaints, so far Märchen had been pretty lenient with the demon's questioning and he saw no reason to be unnecessarily forceful with the other. Not that kidnapping counted as being unnecessarily forceful. 

He thought about going along with what Märchen said, something about becoming more acquainted before asking the more personal questions. But Crowley hated the idea of investing; that stopped being his style over a century ago. Granted that was his take on collecting souls and in this particular mission he probably shouldn't go about using the same methods. Learning basic information about a hundred different Not-Humans would be of less help to Below than knowing a lot of important things about a handful of Not-Humans. That sounded about right. Investing sounded like the way to go.

"Right. Well, there are ways to find out about the soul thing--" which involved a rather painful process (to the recipient) of Crowley sticking his hand in places so Märchen could quite literally be Touched by an Fallen Angel--"but we can save that for another day. In fact, I think that ought to be good enough for today. This was a good talk, darlin', we'll simply have to do it again some time."

[gothicswords-blog]

+ Gimme something sweet +

[gothicswords-blog]

As soon as she heard someone approaching her, the demon looked up quickly, raising a single brow questionably at him. Unless he had an answer to her question, she had no goddamn use of him. Resting a hand on her hip, the girl tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for him to speak.  

“What do you want?” 

Going silence once again, she continued to tap her foot in a quick pace. If he didn’t impress her quickly, she’d be on her way. 

“Think I could tempt you with a light snack?”

Okay. Now he had her complete attention. Watching on with excitement, her mouth dropped open as he made the plate of flan appear out of nowhere.  How was that even possible?! What in the fuck was this guy? Oh well. It hardly mattered to her. As long as she had something to eat she was fine! 

Grinning now, the girl eagerly accepted the plate, dipping her spoon into the sweet dessert and popping it into her mouth.

“So what are you? Some kinda fuckin’ magician?”

[ineffablyevilss]

That was easy enough. Even though Crowley knew that offering people more apples wouldn't cause a second Fall of Mankind, he still got his giggles out of doing it. It was like an inside joke with himself. 

He stared at the girl as she began eating, dully noting unsatisfying response. The shock and awe was nice, sure, but the rest certainly wasn't the kind of reaction that the demon had been expecting. Crowley would have, at the very least, liked to have gotten a thanks for occulting that flan. He guessed that he couldn't get everything he wanted.

"Oh, no, nothing like that." The demon waved his hand as if to physically brush away the girl's accusation. Magicians had parlor tricks, he was something much more important. Or... as important as something lower than a local councillor could be. "Think of me as a Representative of the Pit." He preferred using 'Representative', it sounded much better than 'Slave'. 

[ineffablyevilss]

IT WAS A GIVEN

[bigblackpitches]

Ah, so he’s speaking to a celebrity as well. Pitch isn’t exactly familiar with this Pit, but it sounded quite important a title. He grins a toothy grin when the other grabs his hand, and almost decides to shock the hand in some way—perhaps with a shadow scorpion—but decided against it. He’s had enough of pits, after living in one for so long, and would rather not be banished to the Pit by some representative.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I can’t say I’m familiar with this Pit, but surely it plays an important role in day-to-day life.”

He pulls back his hand and shapes a tiny Fearling.

“Are you a friend of the Moon? Or are you more accustomed to the shadows?”

[ineffablyevilss]

Moon? Shadows? A petty squabble if he'd ever heard one. This sounded a little bush league compared to what Crowley was used to. Though to be fair, he was certain that anything would seem minor considering that he had all of Hell after his skin during the Apocalypse-That-Wasn't. 

More surprising than the Moon-Shadows fight--which wasn't terribly surprising at all--was that Pitch hadn't heard of the Pit. He wouldn't have expected the Boogieman to be religious or anything, but everyone knows what Hell is. Perhaps Pitch had simply spent too much time under a bed. 

"I guess my Side would be closer to your shadows than the moon. Granted, Hell's more fire and sulfur than anything." 

[ineffablyevilss]

IT HAD TAKEN TWO MONTHS,

[nachtlieder-deactivated20140716]

❝Vengeful… That should do nicely, yes. I can’t quite say the same for the second of your words, much as I haven’t actually— encountered it before, mm, but I trust you’ve the right understanding nonetheless.❞

[With the goal of explaining himself (at least as best as was possible) in mind, it was now that he’d really reflected on ‘the nature of things’ - for want of a less vague way of phrasing matters - for the first time. Previously, he’d lived by that peculiar ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth’ proverb - actually, even now, he hadn’t any great ambition to work through the details of his condition, but to occasionally dabble in these thoughts couldn’t do any harm. The truth was that what he’d already divulged, if indirectly, was probably all he had to say for himself: little doubt that the kidnapper was hoping for something of more substance, a bit more juicy than what was -  fundamentally - a one-word answer, but to share more he felt would be to share more than necessary.]

[So silence reigned again, his gaze drifting back towards their intertwined fingers. For once, the habitually reserved gentleman had a great deal to say: if not about who or what he was, he could at least talk about what the apparent terms of his revival, from what he’d been able to gather thus far, but - again - to so much as mention that primary occupation would probably prompt another line of questioning altogether; in doing so, then, would he risk losing that air of mystery he had about him, or so he believed - it was a superficial reason for retaining the truth, yes, but he’d probably not return from his walk until he’d satisfied this one’s curiosity, no matter how great that may be. (Honestly speaking, though, had he not been abducted, there might have been something almost flattering about the demon’s interest. Alas.)]

[Quite evidently was the captive’s method of ‘stand and think for several silent minutes’ failing to get either of them anywhere. Maybe it was only inevitable that he decide to change tact, maybe it was mere coincidence, but - be that as it may - he eventually turned to the other, both literally and figuratively, his head falling to one side a fraction as though to suggest some sort of innocent cluelessness.]

❝…But this is difficult, I admit - embarrassing, even, for I haven’t had an audience’s eyes turned towards me for some time now. What is it you’re wanting to know, exactly?❞

[ineffablyevilss]

Crowley bit his tongue and held back the urge to ask if this was the composer's first date considering that he was already getting embarrassed. He could say all the snarky comments after the business part was done. Not really the order that he wanted to go by, but Crowley had already received a number of colorful threats to not botch up this new mission. He could stand to wait a couple of minutes. 

"Didn't I tell you already? Well, if you're looking into specific questions, then I guess..." The serpent looked back at the questions he asked earlier and, honestly, most of them were already answered, if not implied by the one answer. What Marchen was, if he had always been that way or Human before. Since he was a vengeful Not-Zombie, it wasn't hard to guess where he would stand on the Good/Evil scale either. "If being a... wiedergänger, was it? If being one has changed anything about you. Special powers, enhanced abilities, you know, things like that. And whether or not you know if you have a soul."

That was really the important bit. Souls. That's what everything was really all about, the reason why there were demons on Earth in the first place. Crowley had never truly understood what the point of claiming souls for the Adversary was for--of course, to expand Hell and become bigger than Heaven, but that just sounded too simple. And really, when were things just Simple? It was something that Crowley had thought about until it hurt his head, but it seemed that no matter how often the serpent tried to think about it, he never actually got anywhere. 

[titusflatchestxius]

the stars are suns;

[titusflatchestxius]

❝Tickety-boo? I’m going to guess that means `alright`. I’m fine, thank you for your concern.❞ Maybe he was speaking about when he threw Titus into the car when he was searching for horses. Well, he was kind of rough for sure but the blonde didn’t want to say anything. Hey, it’s not everyday someone picks you up, drops you into the passenger seat and drive off in less than ten minutes time. Arms placed behind his own back as emerald hues analyzed as much as he could, he thought that maybe he could find those bright constellations in the sky. He’d always heard there was a rabbit in the sky as well, somewhere by the moon.

❝I’ve been through numerous of rough things so I wasn’t phased by the matter. Now if you want rough, having you body crushed under the jaws of a giant plant isn’t the best thing in the world. I lost a lot of blood but, nothing too bad. Survived it.❞ That wasn’t one of the worst things, he could assure anyone but he wasn’t expecting it when lingering in the goi part of the area. District 5 held a lot of strange surprises. Sadly, he had lost that battle but it was a loss which granted him his life. ❝So yes, things can be tickety-boo. Is that even a real word, I’ve never heard it before.❞

By the by, the stars sure were bright here so the other was right about the area, he’d have to come back here often or something on the lines of that. Possibly a place he could take time to himself since he was a grand looking area.

[ineffablyevilss]

Crowley was being severely misunderstood here. It was actually a little annoying how badly the boy was misinterpreting him and it caused the demon to wonder if he was doing this on purpose. There was one scrap of information that Crowley could take away from this, and that was that Titus had come from a place where giant plants had jaws that could kill people. 

"Tickety-boo is a slang word. 's not something you'd really hear outside of England," the serpent responded with a slight grunt. This wasn't getting him anywhere. Taking matters into his own hands, Crowley took a gander at the magician's desires. Being the original tempter had its perks and this was one of them.

It was surprisingly easy once Crowley spent the time to look into it; he was actually a little put off that he hadn't seen it before now since it was glaringly obvious. Titus' strongest desire was to live. Such a simple thing and definitely not something one would expect a supposedly healthy teenager to have. He could get crushed by a plant monster and talk about it as if it was nothing, but he just wanted to live. There was clearly more behind it. Interesting. 

"I've gotta say, you're practically brimming with life, aren't you. That's quite impressive." 

[gothicswords-blog]

+ Gimme something sweet +

A loud groan erupted from Stocking’s stomach as she clutched Honekoneko to her chest tightly, lips forming into a permanent frown. Why in the fuck had she agreed to attend school once more? Pondering over the question as she roamed the halls in search of the cafeteria, the ‘angel’ soon found her answer. It was so… Quiet. Peaceful. Panty wasn’t in the room next to hers fuckin’ the brains outta some guy. Garterbelt wasn’t screaming at them to get up and go fight ghosts and Chuck wasn’t… Doing whatever the Fuck he normally did. Perhaps this had been the best idea of her life! 

The girl would have grinned had her stomach not roared once more, causing the girl to clench her fists tightly around Honekoneko. 

“Where the fuck are the sweets around this goddamn shit-hole!?” She spat out bitterly, as if losing her temper would miraculously give her the answer to her question. If she was lucky enough, perhaps it would. Perhaps someone would over-hear her and come to her aid. 

[ineffablyevilss]

As if to answer her angry questioning, someone did appear in front of her--but please, no, not 'miraculously'. He would take great offense to that. Crowley had been in the middle of strolling his way back to his room after reporting his Deeds of the Day to a superior1. It was right when he turned a corner that he was greeted by the enraged girl. Crowley actually found it a little funny; he would have thought that a prestigious school like Tancho would've had rules against dyed hair. Then again, considering all of the Abnormal Things the demon met the past few weeks, he had a feeling that the school didn't pay much attention to who it let in.

"Well, hello, missy. Think I could tempt you with a light snack?" True to his Wily Serpent Ways, Crowley willed a plate of apple flan with a complimentary spoon out of raw firmament and presented it to the girl. How's that for religious symbolism!

[ineffablyevilss]

CROWLEY CRACKED HIS KNUCKLES BEFORE OPENING HIS LAPTOP,

the pads of his fingers slithering over the keys as he pulled up a rather well known website among social bloggers. Oh, this had been one of his more creative ideas, even Below couldn't deny that. After his unappreciated workings of Internet Explorer, what better way was there to rile up the masses than by threatening their so-called Freedom with a bill that would, as the majority of people believed, suppress that.

The best part was that most of the people making a big hullabaloo about it didn't even bother to really look into the details of anything and caused an even bigger stir with their petitions. Admittedly, Crowley was responsible for a small handful of those petitions himself, but most of them--as well as the posts of people getting their knickers in a bunch about how the petition makers didn't know anything--were all made by humans. If the notes were any indication, then within a matter of a few short days, Crowley had managed to put a faint patina of tarnish on thousands upon thousands of souls. 

All in all it seemed like a Bad Job Done Well to him.

[ineffablyevilss]

IT WAS A GIVEN

[bigblackpitches]

“Ah, so you know of my work?”

Pitch grins and clasps his hands behind his back. It’s not often that people know of him this soon—not before the terrifying nightmares, at least. And children are much more likely to infer who he is when he appears, if they believe in him. Adults, of course, hardly ever see him.

And teenagers are a horror. A large number of them insist that he’s a troll that’s been stuck at home or something, and that’s simply not true. Not at all.

“Pitch. You may call me Pitch, if you’d like. It’s much easier than any of the other names people use to refer to me, after all.”

He turns around and reaches out a hand.

“And you are?”

[ineffablyevilss]

It seemed that the Boogieman's mind was fickle and changeable. Just moments ago he seemed ready to leave, and now he was acting all chummy. Certainly not just because Crowley knew who he was, right? Although a part of him did suspect that it was a bit unusual for an adult to recognize him--even kids tended to stop believing in that stuff around 7 or something if Adam Young was anything to go by. What was more dodgy was that the Boogieman was out in broad daylight. Something to inquire about later. 

Crowley looked down at the hand and then back up to its owner. He cocked a crooked smile before taking the other's hand in a firm shake.

"Anthony J. Crowley, Representative of the Pit." As well as the Serpent of Eden, the Influence of the Original Sin, and one part of the team that Stopped the Apocalypse. He liked to brag, but even a flash bastard demon like himself wasn't daft enough to lay all his cards on the table. 

[ineffablyevilss]

IT HAD TAKEN TWO MONTHS,

[nachtlieder-deactivated20140716]

[…Now, there was something humiliatingly ironic about the situation. He himself wasn’t to realise the truth of matters, at least on the end of Crowley - and that, really, was just as well, much as realisation of such a fact would no doubt further cement this experience as something he could have done without. Anyway, the irony here was that he, too, had only been half-serious about the hand-holding, having taken it for granted that demons - generally - weren’t men of their words. If nothing else, Märchen had to admire him for having gone above and beyond expectations. He supposed.]

[Then again, he’d probably only added fuel to the fire by way of professing himself to be a man of his word. In any case, the warmth of contact with another - demon or otherwise - wasn’t something he was used to, by all means, and so he found himself having to adjust to their agreed arrangement by flexing his fingers slightly, idly. (Sad, that this was his first instance of hand-holding he could remember. Dear.) Demeaning as this was already, though, he figured that there probably wasn’t any more harm that could be done; to at least attempt to inflict even a portion of his humiliation on the other, then, couldn’t make the situation any worse than it was at present.]

❝—Thank you, Liebchen. I can only hope, however, that I’m able to…comfortably - for want of a better word - share enough as to make your abduction worthwhile.❞

[It occurred to him only now that he’d never before found himself in a situation where the whole ‘explanation’ thing was necessary - indeed, prior to this point in time, chances are that he’d never even so much as conceived the possibility of having to someday elaborate on his state of health. As obvious as he thought his condition to be by virtue of his very appearance, the fact that he was undead wasn’t a fact he’d gone to any real length to hide; that having been said, however, nor was it a fact he felt inclined to share with everybody with whom he happened to cross paths - it was the incessant question that would likely come about as a result of this truth that bothered him more than anybody else. With any luck, the case would be just as he’d hoped it to be: he’d divulge enough to keep the other happy (or at least content), although not so much as to lose that theatrical air of mystery he habitually had about him.]

❝What do you know of the term ‘Wiedergänger’? If anything at all.❞

[ineffablyevilss]

Crowley snorted lightly at the newly acquired nickname. It was bound to happen eventually and he was vaguely astonished that it took so long to be brought up. Maybe the car ride had been too thrilling for Marchen to find the time to calling him by such an endearing name.

Well, he'd been partially right; maybe not on the exact specifics but at least he got the Dead Thing spot on. The more that Crowley thought about it, the more it seemed obvious that the composer wasn't of the Living. He couldn't believe that he'd never realized it sooner, though he could excuse himself by saying that he was too occupied with kidnapping Marchen to take notice. 

"Vengeful zombies, or something, yeah? Not one of Our more delicate ideas, but go on." Granted, none of the ideas that were influenced by Below could really be considered as 'delicate'. The closest thing to 'delicate' that Hell got was when Crowley got behind the development of Internet Explorer1. It was funny. Even though he knew that the Pit was responsible for a good chunk of the scary lore that existed, he was pretty sure that they weren't supposed to actually be real. Angels and Demons were around for obvious reasons, and the same went for the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, but anything out of biblical was supposed to just be lore. The possibility of Marchen also being an Other World thing was becoming more likely.