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Entry tags:

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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]

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"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?"

"Stick around long enough and you'll realize there's always a worse. Unless you like unknown beings screwing around with your free will."

The throwing things out there to try and kill them all doesn't bother Jules nearly as much as basically becoming a full puppet to their games by losing some aspect of his personality or ability.

Honestly, he might as well just give up.

"Gravity does, though since that's variable in other places I'm sure they'll eventually start playing with that too. Otherwise you might want to start broadening your categorization of the word "sense.""

"Hard pass." he mutters, looking about. Broadening his categorization of the word 'sense' was good advice, but Crowley wasn't sure where to start. A standard human light made sense to Crowley. Magic made sense to Crowley (celestial magic, the universe as he helped create it, that is). He could even get down with different scifi or fantasy rules, having seen just about every film there was to see that's made it to theaters... but that was fairly broad.

"What can you tell me that's crucial for a newcomer, then? What are the rules?" he shook his head, realizing his own rudeness. "Ah, sorry; Let me try this again. I'm Crowley."

"You're talking to the wrong Andarian if you want politeness, but whatever. I'm Dagger."

Now he knows why Crowley looked so familiar at least. They've met before, though something tells Jules it might have been a different Crowley.

"Generally? Trust nothing. Not the plants, not the animals, not the tiny little rock you kick out of your way with your big toe. I'd avoid the other islands too. Not that I'm going to say this one is safe or anything, but generally the things attempting to kill us here aren't on the same scale as the ones on the other islands that crop up."

Rules. Right. Because those exist. Not.

"There aren't any rules, except perhaps if this place or the storyteller or whoever is running the storyteller can screw you, they will."

Crowley had no real need for politeness, it was just something people did. He liked people. In some circles, however, people likely found him rude as well.

"What a lovely holiday." he mutters in response to Dagger's list. It's about all he can muster, it's a lot to take in. If he isn't to trust a thing in this realm, he's going to have a hard time settling in for the long haul. Paranoia isn't his color, it isn't even his season.

Crowley exhales a long sigh and rubs at the bridge of his nose just above where his glasses sit. "Lovely, lovely, lovely." he repeats, under his breath, sorting through things in his mind. "I suppose it's not worth asking if there's any safe place here, then." he motions to the huts in their general vicinity, "Is this your only means of shelter?"

Jules lives and breathes paranoia. Of course he would point out that by definition he isn't paranoid. You can't count it as paranoia when everything he's afraid of and persecuted for is actually happening.

He shrugs. If there is a safe place somewhere, he certainly hasn't found it. What's safe one moment can be under siege the next.

"Some say the Storyteller's temple is safe, but I don't trust that piece of shit even as far as I can throw them."

Everyone else does, but they aren't going to be convincing Jules of that one.

"Most people don't live in the monkey nests. They take a cottage on the islets. I just don't tolerate beings of any species, which is why I'm out here. Less pains in the ass."

"The storyteller? You mean the rabbit, right?" he asks, remembering a dream and a funny little statue outside of the temple he had explored earlier.

Crowley hates being that guy who asks too many questions--wait no, he loves being that guy. It's what got him kicked out of heaven to begin with, after all.

"Where are these islets?" he continues asking, assuming he was standing amidst the monkey nests. Crowley likes people, but he often doesn't get very close to them. They tend to die on you, not worth the trouble.

"Yeah. That giakon."

It's probably a good thing that nobody here speaks Andarian. That insult probably wouldn't go over very well if they did.

"Head north and keep going. Follow the coast around. You'll find them eventually."

Not exactly descriptive, but it's not like they have maps and road signs around here.

Crowley doesn't understand the term, but he can read the tone behind it. Language wasn't too hard to interpret given context, tone, and body language, which were things that Crowley felt particularly expert on having lived among humanity as long as he did. Unfortunately the same wasn't true for celestial beings, even if they were human presenting at the time.

"What's the benefit of living there over here? You seem rather secluded... can't be just because of the people there, can it?"

He's right in this instance, though Crowley may have a harder time with Jules given he doesn't fit into the "humanity" category. Jules is only half human, and was raised - if that word can even be used - primarily in the Andarion culture. There are far more differences between the species in terms of body language and behavior than there are physical ones.

"Consider it part of my irritating nature to not go where whatever being in charge wants me to go."

And he just really, really doesn't like people. Then there's the whole uncontrolled mind reading thing that makes being alone a much more pleasant experience than being so close to a large group of people he doesn't know.

That comment resonates with Crowley, who has literally spent millennia not going where whatever being in charge wants him to go. Not only does the comment resonate, it makes him chuckle.

"And the storyteller, he is in charge?" he asks, although he doesn't recall being given instructions on where to live. Granted, the dreams a bit fuzzy in his memory.

Clearly Crowley is a guy after Jules' heart.

"I think it's pretty obvious he is, though he claims he isn't. I could believe he's a minion of a higher power, but that doesn't make me any more willing to follow what he says. A willing messenger is still deserving of being shot in my mind."

And he can't get to anybody else but the Storyteller. That, and the Storyteller's insistence they're doing what they can to help everyone just pisses Jules off since he can't see how anything is helping.

Crowley shivers, frowning at the thought. "Higher power..." he muttered, thinking he knew a thing or two about that. "Is there evidence of other entities in this world?"

Crowley shifts uncomfortably. He's still trying to understand how two celestial beings like himself and Aziraphale could be overpowered and transported. If he could get any hints about the higher power in this realm, he might better understand his predicament.

"I don't exactly go looking. The gods have never given a shit about me on any planet. Don't see a reason to go looking for them here. No need to point out the target that's apparently on my back with them."

Jules is all for purposefully trying to piss people off, but the gods are a different story. He can't hold a candle to them. Given they've made his life miserable from his first breath and he hadn't even done anything to them, he sees no point in tempting fate on that one.

"You're never curious?" he asks, "Not that I have any idea why a higher power would choose to do anything, but that's what makes it so interesting."

Also what gets Crowley into trouble, while we're keeping track. Jules has a point, and Crowley isn't sure if he has his own target on his back, so he sees the appeal of keeping to oneself, but that's never stopped him before.

"I suppose that makes me stubborn." he notes, coming to a bit of a realization there.

"I can self degradate really damn well without needing to know the real reason. Everyone else does a more than satisfactory job degrading me without knowing why the gods hate me too. Personally I think they find pleasuring in coming up with every minsid reason they can think of. Who am I to ruin their fun?"

He's come a long way toward accepting other beings are assholes, but he hasn't yet truly accepted that he doesn't deserve the utter hatred and contempt.

"I seriously doubt you hold the crown on that trait."

He's a pretty high runner in that medal race, and he knows a lot of the other competitors.

Crowley shrugs at this, "I hate to break it to you, mate, but if everyone around you is an asshole-- you're probably the asshole."

This isn't said nearly as confrontational as it could have been, in fact, Crowley should take his own advice, and he knows it.

"Take it from me, one asshole to another."

"Yeah, already have the t-shirt that says that, and I'm not going to deny it's true. I've also found that all of us assholes tend to be magnetically attracted to each other for whatever damn reason. Probably because no other friend would tolerate us except for one of us."

That's the case with his friends at least.

Crowley chuckles at this, "Sounds about right."

Crowley quite likes humans, and when NJ he wants to, he can make friends quite easily. But when it comes to his own kind, that isn't the case. As far as Hell is concerned, Crowley's the asshole, and in that case, he's okay with it.

"Well, speaking of, I need to get back to another one of us before he loses his head. I'd better be off." he shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. "You've been a great deal of help. Let me know how I can repay the favor."

Edited 2019-11-23 04:54 (UTC)

"A great deal of help? Minsid hell, I guess I'll have to try harder next time. Nobody would ever mistake me for a great deal of help."

Well, not overtly at least. He tends to offer his help under the radar where nobody knows he's doing it. Direct helpfulness is not in his nature.

"You've given me information without the bullshit." he replies, "Everyone else on this island thinks themselves a comedian or treats this like a bloody sitcom."

Crowley didn't mean to sound so irritated, but he was, it couldn't be helped. Jules would just have to come to terms with the fact that he was helpful after all.

"Of course there was bullshit. This whole damn place is bullshit. I'm just one of the few damn beings here who realizes that."

Most others were just optimistic idiots who were going to have their guts torn out in spectacular fashion when the truth finally revealed itself.

"Not what I meant." he waved him off. Crowley was well aware this island was bullshit having only been on it for a short while.

"But thanks, really." he nods, offering a smile as he heads in the direction that led him there to begin with. "I owe you one."

Jules doesn't argue anything Crowley says, he he doesn't believe of word of it either. If Crowley is paying enough attention he can probably hear Jules muttering to himself as he walks away.

"Minsid hell, "I owe you one?" This place must be more screwed up than I thought if it can alter reality that much."

Nobody ever owes him one. He's the one who will be constantly paying back debts to karma.

Nobody may ever owe him one, but Crowley may be a hit more sympathetic than the normal human. That, and doing favors for Crowley is easy, or so he thinks (power limitations are not quite tested, you see).

He waives behind him as he exits, yelling a short 'Ciao!' before heading out of sight.

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