lifeaftr | [OPEN]

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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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"They'll be scarred for life! Would you really do that to little Anders, Fiona and... whatever the fuck they name kids these days." He says, far too cheerful as he leans an arm on the counter and peers at Crowley.

He's quiet for just a moment, letting the other man take him in while also trying to get a read on the man as well. Molly hadn't hung out with Crowley more than once before, but he's been quite curious.

It was a pity all the fun people left so soon.

"Mollymauk Tealeaf, or Molly to my friends. We're definitely friends."

"Afraid so, and I've already written them out of my will." Crowley muses, his eyes squinting behind dark glasses.

"Oh? Are we?" he scoffs into his cup, still completely bewildered. Had he been unsure that anyone knew him, another demon had already listed Crowley's own backstory as proof. He was tired, at this point, of trying to make sense of it.

"Do we have matching jewelry and everything? If so, I'm afraid I've lost mine."

"Devastating. Horrible. I'm so glad I just made them up, they'd be crushed for life," Molly replies easily while waving a hand dismissively. He seems to like the sound of his own voice, if anything.

"Oh yes, certainly. Had a drink together and everything, it was quite a bonding moment. I'm quite happy that I now have the opportunity to get to know you all over again!"

While Molly used to have rings and gems and glittery things all over his person, that was now mostly replaced with twine and red stones, so he can't quite just slip something off a finger and hand it to the man. A pity. "Only matching jokes, I'm afraid."

The same is probably said about Crowley in certain corners of Hell, but with the right audience, Crowley talks just the right amount.

"After only one drink? No wonder you've got marriage fantasies."

It's for the best, really, Crowley is rather particular about what he wears, and if it doesn't fit his style, he'll likely never be bothered with it.

"Oh, you know what they say. Give a look and the fiend take the rest." Molly, that's... really not how that goes at all. Why do you do this??

To be fair, Crowley wearing Molly's ridiculous coat might make hell implode, honestly. It makes Joseph's coat of many colors look downright plain.

"So how are you settling in?"

"Who is 'they' in this scenario?" he replies, already sorry he's asked. He quickly raises a hand and waves it off.

"I'm not."

That much is true, he has just gotten there and not ready to give up on his search for an exit yet. Settling in would mean deciding he was there to stay.

"I have absolutely no idea," he says merrily, not caring that it makes no damn sense to say so.

At the reply about the other thing, however, Molly nods sagely. He's honestly not sure if 'settling in' is a good word for it. 'Hunkering down' might honestly be better when you think of all the shit that goes down here.

...and speaking of;

"It's an awful place, you'll hate it." The tiefling says, gesturing a bit with his drink. "The people? Wonderful. Great. Bit of asses now and then, but still a good bunch. This place? Worse than the Nine Hells."

"Lovely."

Crowley sighed, tossing more of his own drink back. It wasn't liquor, but if he pretended hard enough, it was soothing him as if it was.

"What a perfect sitcom. 'This place is torture, but we're all in it together' he mocks, making a sour face. Worse than hell wasn't saying much to a demon, but he understood the turn of phrase.

"I have no idea what a sitcom is, but I get the gist of it," Molly says with a shrug. He'd probably love them if he did, nothing like some drama that didn't implicate him as the starter. (He usually is.)

"It helps to have people around," he continues. "Friends from home are good too, but it just means they're trapped here. Which is shitty." Not like he's bothered about that every single day.

"Oh, mate..." he sighs, coming to the very real conclusion that he is stuck in a world without television, movie theaters, and fast cars. Fuck.

But he did have his best friend. That, he supposed, was worth trading the other things for.

"No panic, there's some good stuff, too. Just getting the shitty things out there first," Molly says with a slightly apologetic look. Slightly.

"Like I said, the people are great, and there are usually some good events, too. Just be aware that they can mess with you a lot."

Things could certainly be worse, but that doesn't mean Crowley has to be ok with it. "Events? Are you lot throwing parties out in the sand?"

Others have told him how the island messes with you. They've told him not to trust anything. Of course, the irony was he was trusting that advice to begin with.

"Sometimes," Molly replies with a little shrug.

"Other times the place does things like turn us into babies."

Crowley's face scrunches up confusedly. He's never been a baby. He wants to say that, but thinks better of it.

"Literally babies?"

Neither has Molly, but that was more complicated than demon-ness.

"Literally babies. Or children too, I suppose." Beau had been adorable, after all. "Younger versions of ourselves. All in all not a bad game from this place, it was better than the times we had to kill each other."

"Well you must tell me about that." he replies, his attention more curious than before. The magic this world holds seems much different and more erratic than his own, which does cause for some concern.

"What dangers am I actually expecting?"

"Wellll..." Molly drawls, an impressive amount of tiredness seemingly falling on him. Man, they're gone through way too much, haven't they?

"There was the time we all turned on each other in teams and tried to kill each other for no reason," he starts, counting on his fingers. "The time we had to face our worst fears, or we died horribly. Or our worst vices! That was a good one, too." His tail starts flicking like an agitated cat's as he keeps going.

"Can't forget all the times we've fought horrible beasts, or when we were trapped inside a volcano. Oh, changing our personalities is a great one, nothing like suddenly becoming evil." He's... he's still going. Molly has run out of fingers. "Even the seemingly good ones come with caveats. Party? Better watch out for evil clowns. Soaking in a bathhouse? Forced to clean all of them until your fingers bleed."

That might have been just you, Molly.

"...and these extra islands that sometimes appear, they all come with their own dangers and monsters." He sighs again, brushing back the purple lock of hair that liked to hang down between his horns. "Any questions?"

Crowley listens, his expression growing more bewildered with every new story Molly spins. He shakes his head as if trying to snap out of a daze. "And there's no way of avoiding it?" Crowley asks, partially wondering if the other man was just messing with him. Hoping he was.

"Nope," comes the reply as Molly pops the 'p' for extra finality in his word. They're screwed, even if it can be random at times.

"Just try to keep you and your loved ones sane."

Crowley sighed heavily, pushing himself from the bar as if his appetite spent.

"Speaking of, I have somewhere to be." he replied, beginning to gather his things. He wasn't sure how much information his best friend had gotten, but this was certainly important enough for Crowley to seek him out with urgency.

He can understand the rush, and just nods a bit at Crowley.

"Good luck," Molly says, and he means it. Maybe he had said too much, but it had been stewing for a while, and better for the other to hear some truth. It's an ugly truth, but he can't pad it with lies.

Not this one.

"I'm sure we'll catch up later, since we're close friends and all." he smiles, throwing his bag over his shoulder. "Until then."

Crowley turns to leave, trying to get a sense of where Aziraphale is as he exits. Better not be getting himself killed...

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