[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

[postictal]

"We talked about the existence of gods, plural, and their power, I guess, but it was pretty vague." His memory of events isn't great, either, which is fantastic when you've got a history of memory problems. This is why he keeps a notebook now, but he didn't note down much of that conversation. Must not've considered it noteworthy.

"It was just the one time, I'm pretty sure."

[agathokakological]

"That it?" Crowley said this as if he was surprised. That truly wasn't as bad as he was expecting, although this was just one person.

"Well," he lifts his cup, "Here's to a few more." he continues, taking a sip.

[postictal]

"It was really just the one or two conversations." But he's being vague, and he's only summarizing what was really discussed. That's just how he tends to roll.

"Wasn't around long enough for it to get any deeper than that."

[agathokakological]

"Not that I wish any excess time in this dimension on anyone, but I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to catch up."

Crowley says this in as friendly a tone as one can when absolutely miserable, and tosses back more of his drink. He certainly won't get pissed from one glass, but it does help take the edge off.

[postictal]

"I've already been here for..." God, how long does that make it now? "Little over two years. Bit more extra time isn't gonna hurt."

He's resigned to his fate, and doesn't sound terribly bothered by it. Which is maybe a bit more fatalistic than he should be, but who's keeping track? Who's judging?

"Probably shouldn't get completely drunk your first day, though. First week. Whatever."

[agathokakological]

Two years. Two years was nothing to scoff at, but in Crowley's lifespan, wasn't a very long time. It might be less off-putting if he knew why he was here or had some purpose. It might be more off-putting if he wasn't here with his best friend. Things could always be worse.

"I can handle it, trust me." he sighed, assuming he'd be able to just snap himself sober later. Granted, these are experiments yet to be explored. "Two years, though... hn. Any other advice?"

[postictal]

"Come up with a way for other people to tell that they're really talking to you." My, Tim thought of that one quick, and he says it with almost zero hesitation. "Seriously, a lotta stuff here ends up...pretending to be you, or making you act like someone else." Sometimes literally.

"Come up with something - code word, signal, whatever. 'Cause I've been there, and it's not a fun place to be."

[agathokakological]

Crowley winced at Tim at this suggestion. "If that's the case," he set his cup down rather hard on top of the bar, "How do I know the person I'm giving the code to is actually them?"

Checkmate, Tim! Crowley gives him a devious smile, anything to mask whatever fear he's actually feeling at the moment. Appearances need to be upkept.

[postictal]

"You don't," says Tim. "Welcome to the islands. It's always like this."

Tim, by contrast, is wholly unsmiling. It's not that he doesn't want to lighten the mood. He just has difficulty with it, with making things seem better than they are. Why does the guy without ready access to reality have to be the one to do all the reality checks?

Because of both a sense of futility and irony, he's sure.

[agathokakological]

"Charming."

It's about all he can say, which isn't necessarily helpful. As for Tim, well, Crowley isn't sure how much he trusts any of the strangers he's met who recognize him, so he'll save codes for later. He scoops up his cup from the bar and finishes it off, placing it back down between them.

"I owe you for the drink." he notes, "And then I suppose I should get back to finding answers, or at least a place to rest."

[postictal]

"Eh, don't worry about it. It's not like we have an economy here." That's right, he more or less provides alcohol and food for free. He has his reasons for it, but he's far from, shall we say, forthcoming about it.

"Places to sleep - you can find houses and stuff on the islets, just off the mainland coast."

[agathokakological]

A small look of surprise shows on Crowley's face, although it shouldn't. It isn't like he had much he could pay Tim with, anyway. "How generous of you." he manages, "Thank you."

He takes a deep breath before standing from his chair, stretching his back slightly and then tucking his hands into his jean pockets. "And thank you for the advice. Perhaps next we meet I'll have more to contribute to the conversation."

Hopefully, next time they met Crowley will have regrouped with his friend, swapped stories, and formed a plan. Needless to say, without Tim's advice, he probably wouldn't be making it that far.

[postictal]

"It's no problem." In fairness, it'd be more work to set up an economy just to take people's money, but who has time for capitalism in island hell anyway?

Tim's expression remains, for the most part, neutral. As it has through most of this conversation.

"You can usually find me here," he says, with an inclination of his head. "Just ask for Tim."

[agathokakological]

"Tim." Crowley repeats this as if there's any chance he'll remember it. "Till next time. Ciao."

He nods gratefully at Tim before spinning on his heels toward the exit. He'll certainly be back, it's the most normal atmosphere he's encountered on the island yet.