[OPEN]

[agathokakological]

Who: Crowley & YOU
What: Post-arrival, exploring Ensō
When: Early November
Where: Various locations around the island.
Warnings: Crowley



Storytellers Temple

It wasn't long after his and Aziraphale's arrival that they decided to split up and investigate this new world separately. While neither of them seemed too keen on being separated, they agreed it would make for a quicker search of things. Crowley headed north immediately, seeking anything that looked like a structure that may be inhabited by people.

The building was very obviously built as a temple. A place to pay proper respects to someone or something. He had no reason to tred on holy ground for many years, but the sight of the stuffed rabbit out front drew him in, and he was surprised to find the ground not white-hot on the bottom of his feet. Something about this rabbit drew forth memories of a dream he was sure he had. At least, he thought it was a dream. His memory did seem a bit fuzzy.

"Curiouser and curiouser..." he muttered, squatting in front of the rabbit and staring down his nose at it over his sunglasses. Crowley wasn't one for books, but once he'd seen a made-for-TV adaptation of Alice in Wonderland and felt like Alice herself following the rabbit down its hole.

Monkey Compound

By no means was it Mayfair, but these seemed to be residences. Let's be honest, it wasn't posh or upscale, but it was the only thing he'd come across since the temple that looked inhabitable. Crowley was particularly taken by the garden. His little plantcare hobby may be of some use on a deserted island yet, depending on how stubborn the greenery is in this world. Perhaps all they need is for someone like Crowley to knock them down a peg or two, show them what's what.

He's encircling the garden when he notices a particularly well-growing plant. Proud little thing, he looks it up and down and scoffs. "Don't be so cocky..." he hisses as if it can hear him, not realizing anyone might be listening to him.

Denny

Finally, something normal, or at least as close to normal as one might find on a strange island. Come to think of it, finding a bar/restaurant isn't very normal at all given the situation. Crowley won't complain, of course, and take comfort in the small things.

He takes a seat on an open bench, waiting patiently for a server to reach him. "A glass of whatevers drinkable." he requests, open to recommendations. He's surprised to notice that he feels tired after a day of searching. He's never really felt tired before, at least, not like this. He tries to shake it off, must be in his head.

Wildcard

[OOC NOTE: Feel free to tag Crowley anywhere on the island in between his trips or come up with another prompt. If you'd like to discuss something special with me, I can be reached at dukevendetta or on Discord at trashwitch666#9299]

Comments

Monkey Compound

[suspecteverything]

Jules doesn't live very far from the garden and can be found nearby relatively often. He's never been one to venture off to the other islands. He learned his lesson on that, thanks. Just not freaking worth it in his mind. The monkey nests aren't an overly popular destination for people to choose to live or even come by - it's why he lives there - so a new voice draws his attention. Something about it seems oddly familiar, though he can't place why.

"I wouldn't start calling the plants cocky if I were you. Just asking for them to rise up and try to kill us again. This minsid place has turned the vegetation against us more than once. Then again, watching you try to keep yourself from being eaten by a plant might be entertaining, so please go for it."

[agathokakological]

Turning to face the other man, Crowley gives him a once-over. The man's monologue sounds to Crowley like ramblings of a crazy person. Take away the fact that the demon has found himself some place entirely new and out of his element, the idea of a vegetable rising up and attacking him makes him scoff.

"Are you taking a piss?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow at the stranger. "This your garden?"

[suspecteverything]

"Just pissing in your orange juice and ruining your day with the truth. You must be new here. Welcome to the minsid fun, and yes, I say that with as much sarcasm as can be fit into five words."

Seriously, anyone who has been here more than a month would realize that stuff that sounds completely insane is totally possible here. Still insane, sure, but that doesn't mean it isn't happening.

"No. Belongs to a wolf. Sort of."

Both for the belonging part and the wolf part. He'd promised to keep that secret and he has no intention of sharing without good reason.

[agathokakological]

"Mate, you can't make my day any worse than it already is." he groans, but the 'new here' part is almost more upsetting than it should be. It makes 'here' a very established place... and as much as he enjoyed the series LOST, he is very not interested in being a character on it.

"A wolf." he repeats as deadpan as possible, almost as if he's given up completely. "Does anything in this place make sense?"

Denny

[catpiper]

She's not really a server, so much as a blight upon this establishment who doesn't leave for hours at a time. She has no problems going back and forth around the counter, helping herself as she sees fit. Tim's around somewhere-it's fine.

But then there's some guy she doesn't recognize asking for a glass and-

Well, she stares at the cup of water beside her. One that she's clearly already drank from and-

Slowly pushes it towards him. Boom, water. She's helping.

"You can have that. It's very good."

[agathokakological]

"What."

Crowley was certain that cup belongs to someone else. Even if it didn't, that isn't quite what he was looking for. For a moment he's truly not sure if this is normal for the island or not.

"Do you even work here?"

[catpiper]

"No, I don't work anywhere. I'm just here."

It's an honest answer. Unfortunately, she seems to be the only one around and that doesn't bode well for the poor demon.

"Do you want a different drink?"

Denny

[eudaimonikos]

Michael, strictly speaking, does not work here. He's spoken to Tim often enough, but never about that. But his time spent as a human bartender was a fun lark, and he enjoys playing the same role here from time to time. Not like it's hard - you give maybe three people a drink and snacks, and then you get to chat for a while! It's fun!

He can tell Crowley is another demon, of course, and Crowley can probably tell the same about him. But as far as Michael is concerned, all that's been hashed out already. No threats to humanity; no problems.

"Your options are water and tea. Decent tea selection, actually. No urine, no antimatter." Both of those are common drinks in Michael's version of Hell. Is it the same in Crowley's? He has no idea, he's just spitballing here.

[agathokakological]

Crowley smells it before he realizes where it's come from, and is immediately on edge. It's a very good thing he has a decent poker-face, otherwise the conversation might be rather awkward. His eyebrows shoot up almost past his hairline at the response. But make no mistake, he is still watching Michael very closely behind dark glasses.

"No urine at all? What is this, The Ritz?" he asks, leaning on the bar with both elbows. "Tea it is."

[eudaimonikos]

"I could go for some antimatter," is Michael's only comment on the matter.

He moves to a shelf a few feet away, on the other side of the bar, to consult the tea canisters neatly lined up there. They aren't all always full, but it's quick work to check which ones are. "We've got chamomile, coconut, bluescythe, and candleflower." From his tone, it's clear that he doesn't know exactly what the latter two are. "Anything else, and you'll probably have to go talk to the tea guy."

denny

[postictal]

Hey, he remembers you. Vaguely. But the total lack of recognition is a bad sign. Tim, for the moment, doesn't acknowledge it - just does a brief double-take as he processes that, yes, he does remember this guy from a while back, and now he's back to his pseudo-bartending. "Pseudo," because he doesn't exactly do much in the way of serving anything.

"Well, you're in luck. We got water, tea, and blackberry liquor." He has his money, personally, on the last option being the one that Crowley springs for.

[agathokakological]

Tim would in fact be the winner, blackberry liquor it is. Crowley needs a crutch to cope with this week he's been having.

"The later, please." he answers, his voice tired as he leans on the bartop, head resting in one hand.

[postictal]

"Sure." It's only thanks to Muffet that this stuff exists, but it's easily the one thing that everyone consistently goes for. Tim fills a wooden cup of the stuff and pushes it over to him.

"Long day?"

Denny

[devilstongue]

Molly swaggers into the Denny with all the bravado of a man that has been day-drinking and now needs some damn eggs to at least not be tipsy on an empty stomach. That thought it broken for a moment as he notices Crowley.

"Oh. You're back?"

[agathokakological]

"Oh, good, another one." Crowley mutters, barely looking up from his glass, "Yes, c'mon over, lads, I'm signing autographs all evening."

He's quite tired of being Denny's very own Norm-From-Cheers, it's rather uncomfortable everyone knowing you when you don't know them, in a world you don't understand. Crowley finally looks up to Molly, and while quite alarmed by, well, everything about him, he tries not to show it.

[devilstongue]

He just looks amused and takes a seat next to Crowley, tail whipping a bit in excitement. The fiendish blood in a tiefling is very diluted, but there might be a little hint there to pick up - or the fact that he looks like a biblical demon colored by Lisa Frank.

"Are you telling me you don't recognize your husband? Goodness gracious, what will our eighteen kids say?" It's obvious that he's just being a dick, even pouting ridiculously.

"Must be a hell of a ride, coming here and not recognizing anything while people obviously know you."

Monkey Compound

[reflash]

The monkey compound isn't the most populated area, but there are a few residents. This teenage exorcist is one of them. He doesn't look quite human, and that snake tongue flicks out to scent the air around the garden. Which means he smells the stranger before he hears Crowley lecturing the plants and decides to approach.

"Hello. Can I help you?"

SNAKEY 👏 BOIS 👏

[agathokakological]

Crowley wasn't sure how to answer that question. He's even less sure when he turns to see who is speaking to him, and can't determine what sort of being he's looking at. Humanesque in similar was that Crowley himself looked human, but clearly not.

"Er-- that depends," he mutters, "Could you tell me how I ended up here or how to get back?"

[reflash]

"Do you mean to this island, or the garden I've been tending to?" He can answer both those questions, but he wants to make sure he's on the right track before he starts.

saunters in like two weeks late for the denny

[deathfindsaway]

Frankly, Kravitz is rather used to people coming and going on the islands. It isn't pleasant to find someone he enjoyed the company of is suddenly gone, or when calls start going dead, but he is... used to it. For someone who's lived for a thousand years, that comes easier. All that is to say is Kravitz knew Crowley had left the islands previously-- so walking into the Denny to spot him is certainly not what he expected. He watches for a moment with suspicion, but approaches regardless to take the seat next to him.

Well, it certainly looks like him. Plus he carries the same sort of strange feeling like the other times they've spoken- not undead, not breaking death rules, just something that doesn't clearly fit into his world's standards of hierarchy. Crowley too can likely feel something strange off the man who takes the seat at the bar- not an angel, not a demon, but a something for sure.

Kravitz waits a few beats and clears his throat, trying to breech this as easily as possible. "So, uhm. Hello. I suppose it would be a stretch to think you remember being in this place, is it?"

fashionably so, fortunately for me

[agathokakological]

At this point, Crowley's heard this all before, and it's exhausting. He's still not used to sensing other entities at every turn, but in this realm, he's met more individuals who have set off his radar than haven't. At a certain point, this will be normal to him too.

Crowley turns his head slightly to glance at Kravitz, his eyes giving the other man a once-over behind his glasses.

"Let me guess... another old acquaintance, friend, or lover?" he responds dryly, not directly answering his question, but Kravitz surely has his answer, regardless.

only the best for u bb

[deathfindsaway]

He's all prepared to be cool on this one, but as soon as Crowley posits lover as an option he immediately sputters, all decorum he could have displayed thrown right out the window. Kravitz knocks his fist on his chest once to get his bearings before refocusing on Crowley, trying to pretend that sentence didn't knock him on his ass.

"Not-- Not lovers, no. Er, possibly friends? I suppose acquaintance will fit more. I see I'm not the first person to address you as such, though." He holds out his hand for a shake, trying to be cordial about it all. "I'm Kravitz. It's a pleasure to meet you, uhm, again in my case. I understand how staggering it can be to try and compensate there though, so I will not spend time dwelling on that part."

w i l d c a r d

[smithsonians]

While the islands themselves are diverse and full of enough hijinks to keep even the most adventure-prone resident busy, they are still islands. As in, not connected to mainland that Steve has been able to deduce. And if there is one, then clearly the god-like beings are hiding it pretty damn well. So he's taken up his old habit of jogging, mostly to keep out of trouble, and to keep in shape should Big Trouble decide to swing by and decide to set up shop.

Which is why one morning, shortly after Crowley arrives, he'll be greeted by the Artist Formerly Known As Captain America darting past him on one of the more used walking paths, preceded only by a called out warning, "On your left!"

🙌

[agathokakological]

Crowley can't imagine why anyone on this island would settle into a habitual routine. That, to him, felt like giving up. The minute he found himself doing so would be the minute he'd resolved to spend the rest of eternity in this place. Surely there were worse things.

He hears the call and footsteps falling fast behind him, and moves out of the way, at least he thinks he does. In Crowley's current state of anxiety, he's forgotten his right from his left.

[smithsonians]

Theoretically, routine always helps. It's something normal to concentrate on, especially since so little of Steve's life is normal anymore. But that's a distinction that maybe not very many people kidnapped to the islands make. Or even think about making. Which is okay. He's always been the odd duck out.

Even when the guy on the trail steps right into his path, forcing Steve to pull an impromptu twist further to one side (still his left, for anyone keeping count) in order not to bowl Crowley over. At any rate, one of them is careening towards a spectacular halt. Maybe even with a flurry of flailing limbs. And some good-natured cursing.