To be fair, not the worst day he's ever had

[sauntereddown]

Who: Crowley and any unsuspecting bystanders
What: Arrival post, and subsequent settling in
Where: Somewhere on the Walk/later in the Great Hall
When: Sometime in early November
Warnings: Initially grumpy, frazzled occult being. Absolutely no knowledge of actual cars.


Temporarily out of gas
Crowley is going to struggle to find a metaphor for this later. The best he can come up with is if your talking unicorn suddenly changed into a blank-eyed goat. But the shabby version of a goat everyone knows, from some film you never got around to seeing. That's his general feeling about the car he's sitting in right now.

And also he's pretty sure he's got an idea of how the universe works, certainly of how the world works because he was there when they built the blessed thing. But now the feel's all off, so he's like a cat with mittens on.

And also, people are staring, when they're not leaning out of horse-drawn wagons and yelling for him to move. And not just sort of assuming they see something else and working their way around him. So there's that.

He snaps his fingers, and oh, that's what it feels like if they cut the miracle power. He always wondered. "Shit." Maybe he can still lean into it. He rolls the window down and snaps again, louder, at some unsuspecting bystander. "Hey, yeah. Yes, you - I'm going to need some directions."

Hey boy, where did you go?
After some more swearing and a crash course or two, Crowley's now a new arrival in the Great Hall. He's wearing sunglasses indoors, and he's nursing a mug of something strong-tasting and hopefully alcoholic. (No one knew what he was talking about when he asked if they had Isle of Skye, so he decided on a glass of whatever would "take the edge off a long day.")

He's notably not eating, though he is taking notes in between pulls from the mug. Anyone who sneaks a peek will see a mix of English words and a squiggly language they likely won't be able to read. Crowley is not an organized scholar, but in between his attempts to throw together a class schedule, there are some spur-of-the-moment questions and notes.

Notable bits include 'Different planet? Is space the same?', and a list titled 'Clever Enough to Exorcise Me Here' with every name crossed off.

Comments

[temptationaccomplished]

Aziraphale has given up all pretense of sleeping or keeping normal human hours since his deal with Tyzias. Last month taught him he almost can summon a demon, and the failure taught him he will have to study harder if he wants anything more than the tantalizing fruit of that mere possibility hanging just out of reach.

So he's between information gathering in the Library of Ash and Fire when he breezes into the Great Hall looking for a spot of something to nibble on. The red hair catches his eye first, peripherally and over the top of a dozen other heads and between movement in the Hall. His heart flutters excitedly and then he stamps down on the feeling. No, it can't be. Surely that hair belongs to just another Sundered student--they do have a penchant for rather wild natural looks.

But he stops despite himself, despite steeling himself for disappointment, and tries to catch that figure again. They just look so painfully Crowley, even from here, from behind, caught in snippets through a small crowd. The appropriate level of slouch (and oh, having dined with him and sat on benches with him, and visited the opera and plays and film with him... Aziraphale had a subconscious catalog of all the ways that Crowley could sit). The necessary ratio of coiffed/effortless hair styling. The way he raises that cup and--

Oh. That nose. Those glasses. That profile. It IS Crowley. It simply HAS to be. Aziraphale flutters out of the doorway to gather himself up for this meeting, fidgeting his hands and straightening his ridiculous school uniform and his fluffy hair and hoping he doesn't smell like he has been sitting in that hellish library. Contemplating his words... This world HAD to be playing tricks on him, after denying him the chance to properly pull Crowley in on his own. Maybe this is only temporary, like so many of their things, but Aziraphale will be damned if he doesn't at least go find out.

He hasn't decided yet if he wants to pretend my-oh-my this is such an unexpected visit, or to teasingly scold Crowley for being late. He slides into the seat opposite Crowley at the table, arranging himself as if this was planned, as if they are back home and have made an arrangement to meet, as if he hasn't been buzzing with nerves for the last minute.

It all falls apart once he sees his Best Friend's face.

"Hello, Crowley," he says, and his smile breaks a little tearfully.

you good with tyzias begin able to read demon? she's been Around, but i don't want to assume

[tiredcharmer]

"Yes and yes." The table shakes with the weight of the food tray slammed down upon it, buckles as a greater volume of study materials tumbles out of Tyzias's hands and onto its surface, and the chair nearly breaks under the weight as Tyzias's noodly frame collapses onto it. Tyzias is normally content with taking lunch in the library, but after accidentally filling a bookshelf with hardlight bread while experimenting with spellcraft, that wasn't an option anymore. And since she's already developed a reputation as the local campus cryptid (just as she likes it, really), Tyzias isn't exactly welcome at most tables.

So she's here to greet the newbie. Kind of. Well, more like study since he looks like an interesting sort, but there is genuine benevolent intention there. Grabbing an apple from her mound of food, Tyzias almost unhinges her jaw and bites clean through half of it. While chewing, she explains, "Did some astronomy before I arrived to Diatu. I mean, on the road here. Didn't do astronomy back home, that shit's for dweebs that are dweebier than me. Anyways, Diatu is definitely on a different plane of existence than the one you're from. Er. Not plane, actually. Entirely separate reality. But that's semantics."

You are making it very hard to remember I am on Hiatus. This is going to be... wow.

[nobodys_puppet]

Xion has been snapped at before, but never quite like that. The young seeming girl's hands go for her hood as her eyes widen, like she is going to pull it over her face. But she promised Axel and Roxas. So... she was trying. She let her hands fall, leaving her hood down and face exposed. Which meant there was nothing to hide the fact that what had her eyes huge was the car. She'd never seen anything like it outside of the books Axel had given her. She had dutifully read them all, because it was Axel who asked. Herhomework, on the other hand, was still sitting beside her bed untouched.. where she bothered to bring it back to the room at all.

She almost missed his question, but she had spent most of her short life on a knife's edge where anyone who spoke to her could have had her Dusked. So even wonder and curiosity couldn't quite stop her from hearing. She looked away from the car, startled. "Directions...?" she asked. She... didn't give orders, she obeyed them. Well, used to obey.

And one more

[gender_neutral]

V did not often go to bars. Clearly, not not ever, but not often. So the small elf was perched on a stool, going through a rather large pile of tomes that had been pulled from a seemingly tiny pouch held about the belt. On the Elf's shoulder was what looked... well it looked like someone had dipped a macaw in oil and pasted a cardboard raptor beak over the smaller normal beak. The bird looked at Crowley for a long moment, then made a small noise that was almost a cough.

Irritated, the Elf glanced over, saw Crowley's notes... and was at once intrigued. "I do not have knowledge of that language, would a trade be amenable to you?"

taking forever but...out of gas!

[darkenedmoon]

Snapped at. So it's to be that way, is it? Yotsuyu looked down her nose at the man in his dark spectacles, and sauntered over. She'd seen a number of magitek vehicles in her time, but this one was definitely novel, as these things went.

"Directions?" she purred--anyone who knew her well might be sensing danger at this point, but Yotsuyu considered that she might be acting similarly to this man, were their situations reversed. "Directions, darling, of course! Where do you wish to go? And do you wish to take your vehicle with you?"

He might have to tell her what it runs on, but there was always a chance that she might manage to make it go...

[bearshermark]

Eleven made his way over as a matter of course and settled down at the man's table without so much as a 'by your leave'. An ordinary student perhaps, if not for the sword strapped to the back of his robes.

"Need help with anything?"