diatu | Surf's up, School's out

Surf's up, School's out

Who: Crowley and OPEN - (Now with bonus August Adventure)
What: A demon getting used to school, meeting new people, going to class... what could go wrong?
Where: In and about the Academy (August Catchall)
When: First day of class
Warnings: Bit of cursing here and there

Room 666
The shades were drawn but only enough so that the light streamed into the room through a narrow slit, brightening the center of the room but leaving the corners rather dark and secluded. That car was still out there. He couldn't make out who was in the driver's seat... if indeed there was anyone in the driver's seat at all... but it had been following him. He thought it had been following him anyway. Maybe it was a mistake?
Maybe every one in this place drove silver DeLorean's. He was too suspicious to be that gullible!

Crowley stood near the window peering out past the curtains, glaring at the stalkers car, fully content to watch it as long as it took to find out who was following him... that is until there was a knock on his door which necessitated his sauntering over to answer it. Now whether the knock had been on purpose or accidental he leaned on the frame and looked over the person in the hall.

"If you are selling I have all the paper and quills I will ever need... Maybe if you try the next door down? And knock really loud," he added for just that extra touch of demonic mischief to incite the maximum level of disturbance to his new neighbor, "They are a bit hard of hearing."

First Class
Crowley came to class on that first day in typical style. He was late and wearing his stylish outfit from home instead of his assigned uniform. He made a grand production of taking a seat at the back of the classroom and propping up his feet on the back of the desk chair in front of him... very nearly on top of the head of the student sitting at that desk.

Intimations class. Crowley had no idea what that was, barely looked at the syllabus when one was passed around to him, and was more focused on constructing a few paper wads to fling at the other student in the next row over... until the instructor demonstrated one of the spells they would be learning in the class by reciting a prayer to the God of Love. Then his demonic outcry would be heard echoing throughout the school.

"NGK!!! What the Heaven... What kind of class is this?!"

With a prayer and a gesture by an irate instructor who had had enough Crowley would find himself unceremoniously magically teleported out of the classroom for being too much of a disturbance. He is bound to reappear; falling from the air, crashing into your dorm bed, splashing down in the middle of a pool... feel free to run into him anywhere.

Escape
He was outside in a flash, hopping down the cement steps and taking off across the lawn in long-legged gate.

"No, no, no, no, no! This is ridiculous! I can't be in that kind of class! Or have that kind of magic!"

Fear and uncertainty manifested itself as anger and he hissed to himself as he fled the school building.

"It has to be a mistake or..."

With a fierce glare he staggered back to snark at the sky.

"Some great big pissing joke!"

He knows you are up there God and just laughing your ass off about this! There would be no answer of course, there never was. There was only the interminable silence and the fear that this was all some how ineffable.

August Adventure - Panic At The Fresco

Renowned artist Brank Cee just finished his latest masterpiece -- only for a sudden Valhudor flash mob to erupt just as he hung it up to dry! Now he's over here, the piece is over there, and the lead actor has come within a hair's breadth of skewering it with his sword prop three different times in one duel alone! He can't get through the crowd to recover it, let alone the performance. Oh please, rescue his painting and he will reward you!

Lounging on a bench Crowley looked up at the panicked artist, then over to the flash mob, then laid right back down where he had been .

"Why not just walk over there and get it yourself? Yea, yea, yea... you are afraid of getting conscripted to the play."

It did seem like they were pulling people in from all over. Willing and not-so willing participants either joined in with the song and dance or sulked angrily in the background.

"I don't know why you think I want to get caught up in it either."

Besides, like a flicker of flame springing to life, he suddenly had a better idea one he sat bolt upright for.

"Why not leave the painting where it is? So it gets skewered! All you need is a crowd of people watching and you could make a bundle off those bits of painting fragments still hanging in the frame. Call it performance art! They will see you as a genius."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"They want you to pray to the Five Gods of men, whoever those are, not sure it works if you pray to anything else..."

It was a curious thought though. Quite like something he might have said if he hadn't been so upset he couldn't think straight.

What would he end up praying to anyway... himself like the man said? Something he believed in... like Aziraphale? TCH! It's still praying!

"Have you tried?" He started walking away with every expectation Anthony would follow him. "Anyway, it doesn't make much sense. What would you do with a God of man? And anyway what is God of man to begin with? It's just an excuse for someone to put their beliefs or ideologies on something bigger than themself."

He shook his head.

"What did you use before here to do...whatever."

No, he hadn't tried! He had just been booted out of class! It's not like there had been time to try anything or even to have had the thought that he should... It was tempting now however. One might say it dangled in front of him like a shiny red apple.

"Demonic miracles."

Crowley had no need to follow the studious man as he collected his books and walked away and yet he did. This was a fascinating line of conversation.

"Far less holy than Angelic ones and more fun. When ever I want something to happen I make it happen."

"But how did you do it? That didn't just come from nowhere." He found himself interested in spite of himself. That was the problem with magic. It got under the skin. It intrigued him, dangerously. You couldn't rely on it. You couldn't trust it. It wasn't a sure thing like turning a key in the ignition so it would go.

But a part of him craved it for some reason which he honestly didn't want to look too closely at right now.

"What do you mean how do I do it?"

Crowley sniffed as up to this point in his existence magic had always come easily for him. He hadn't yet had to will himself through a wall of flame, prevent his car from burning up around him, or face down the devil himself.

"It's like how you humans breath. You don't think about it, you just do it."

He snorted at the 'you humans'. He wasn't the only one that breathed after all. He sucked in a breath through his nose and out through his mouth absently, a sigh almost, thoughtful.

"But we can think about it. Look, it's not like... a heartbeat." God he wished that wasn't the only metaphor he could think of. "Magic isn't an impulse, it feels like an intention. We breathe on instinct but we can regulate how much goes in and out. So use that space between your ears and think." He tugged one ear without thinking about it, then remembered that he shouldn't be too familiar and shrugged.

"What did it feel like."

Quick as a viper's strike the doppelgänger's hand had landed on his ear and given it a tug. No one had ever... EVER... been so familiar with him before! Not that it had hurt but Crowley's hand still instinctually flew up to cover his ear as soon as it had been released.

"It felt like some one tugging my ear!"

Glare. Glower. Hiss.
A lesser demon might have unleashed the hellfire and fury, Crowley just stared at the man with a slightly cocked head and a gunslinger's stance.

"What is with you? Why are you..." So clever. "Like this human-me?"

It was amusing even as it stung. They were the same person and they weren't. Crowley was like Anthony but full of knives with all the blades turned out. He wasn't sure what to feel about it but then he didn't need to feel anything about it did he.

"Don't say that. You don't even know me. You don't know anything about me. You can't say we're alike. How can you even tell?" And even when he had known they hadn't been anything alike. The only thing they'd shared was a past, and not even that really-- it had just been...he didn't know.

"Stop avoiding the question and think."

Crowley spluttered as a million words fought for the right to be said all at the same time. How were they alike? How could he tell they were alike? How could he NOT tell?? Was the man serious here!?

"Have you looked into a mirror... ever?"

One shave, a pair of glasses and no one would be able to tell them apart! Granted Crowley hadn't only been speaking about how similar their appearance was, it was also the questions Alec had been asking. Those spoke to him in such a way that Crowley might as well have said them himself!

His nose scrunched in distrust and suspicion. Sure his counterpart here seemed to be intent on helping him but Crowley couldn't imagine why. People didn't usually go around helping others unless they were getting something out of it themselves. It's just the way humans were. And for his part Crowley didn't usually go around asking anyone for help... So few creatures were trustworthy when you were surrounded by Hell's demons.

"You think I should hold my breath."

"Just because we look alike doesn't mean we're similar." And he didn't even think they were that similar aside from facial structure and height. "Maybe whatever keeps jerking us around has a type." He shook his head. Even when they were cousins, they were nothing alike.

"If you think that will help. But if you're just being obtuse, you're only hurting yourself."

This he could pinpoint. The exact creature that had been jerking the both of them around was undoubtedly the same one that had been jerking Earth around from the beginning.

"It couldn't hurt. I wouldn't be breathing in any smoke once I exploded."

Course he wouldn't be breathing much anyway but... yea, it was better to avoid that and he would. He just needed to figure out some clever way to do that.

"I get it. If the box doesn't fit, climb out of it. I was going to do that anyway..."

He didn't really know what else to tell him, what other advice to give. He had never been good at giving advice to begin with and in this situation-- what did he know about an eternal being. Hell, what did he even know about himself?

"You'll come through when you need to." This said with too much fondness that he couldn't quite rope back. He only hoped that the fact that he wasn't looking at An-- C-- the other that it sounded distracted rather than fond. They were at the gates of the school now and Alec hesitated, then said:

"I'm going to get a drink." It wasn't exactly an invitation but it wasn't not an invitation either.

If it had been Aziraphale saying that he would have been glowing. So Alec was regarded with still more suspicion... until the idea of a drink was floated. Then all concerns dissolved like the fruity syrup they pour into mixed drinks!

"I could really use a drink. A whole bottle or twelve!"

Was that an invite or not? Didn't matter Crowley wasn't above inviting himself.

"I have heard there is a bar in town. Not sure of the name, but shouldn't be too hard to find it."

He can practically feel the distrust and it stings more and frustrates him as much as it hurts. He should be used to this. He needs to get used to this, so that the hurt is just the same thing as going in front of the press or wearing a stiff suit, it's uncomfortable but he's numb to it. That was the best feeling really.

"Let's look for it then. You can pay for a round and I'll catch you up." Not that he would drink anything but he couldn't help but feel it would pull away a bit from the family dynamic that was never theirs to begin with.

He could pay for a round, could he? Come to think of it what did the locals use for money? Crowley had never thought to ask as money had never been much of a concern for him. Oh well, he would play it by ear and whether they ended up paying for their drinks or finding some clever way out of it would be left up to how understanding the bartender was.

"You never did give me a name."

He spoke conversationally as they headed away from the bloody school and into the oddly tiered town.

"If I'm buying I ought to know who I'm buying for."

What name should he even give? Not Hardy. Not Alec. Neither seemed right somehow. The first too distant, the second too intimate. For a minute he thought of calling himself Anthony, but that would only raise more questions.

"Wright." Which was close enough between the two. "But you really don't have to call me anything. Beyond this we don't need to know one another."

Crowley smirked as soon as the name was given.

"So I'm about to have a drink with Mr. Wright?"

It was too funny not to have a little laugh about though he did wonder what Aziraphale would make of the joke.

"And a man of mystery. I can respect that but I don't mind telling you my name. It's Crowley."

"Ugh no! Not that name. Not-- not like that! Christ, why did you have to make it... No. Fine. Call me Alec. Just Alec. I don't care. Just don't make jokes like that. I can't--" He let out a sharp breath. "I'm not a man of mystery I'm a man with a short temper and not a lot of time for anything, let alone this meaningless horseshit that we've been shoved into, but why, not, what the hell not, why not just screw everything up again? Why not just add to the existential crises. It's fine. I can handle it. Maybe I won't even have to. But if you make a joke like that again I will twist your nose off and feed it to the Kettle Man." H

He shook his head, stalking ahead a bit, clutching the books against his chest. Why did it always have to get bloody worse?

He walked in silence next to Wright, nay, Alec... observing and quietly trying to assess this sudden animation as Alec reacted like his entire world had just been set on fire. Crowley admitted it was a cliché joke but warranting this sort of soliloquy? That he wasn't at all sure about. It spoke of some of those hidden mysterious things that he was now being told weren't mysteries but were instead temper, horseshit, and...

"Kettle man? Does he eat noses?"

"No...forget it." He sighed. He didn't want to explain it. He didn't want to touch it. He wished he'd never brought it up. Typical. "Where the hell are we going. Find somewhere so I can put these damned books down."

"Forgotten."

Only it wasn't really. It was stored away in his mental filing cabinet along with all the other weird or out of place things Alec had said.

The damned books had two locations where they might find themselves a place to rest, one was The Night Shift where all the working stiffs went to grab a brew after hours and the other was the more upscale Golden Heron which after centuries of dining with an angel with standards Crowley gravitated towards. He picked out a booth which say along the wall away from the large front windows and ordered a bottle of red for himself, not that Alec couldn't have some... but Crowley was planning of getting very drunk indeed.

"With all those books what do they have you studying?"

He could have just looked at the titles but... lazy.

"I'm studying everything. All I can. Might as well." He set his books down and stretched the kinks out of his arms. For the drink he ordered a seltzer water without the carbonation. Wine was a bad idea until he settled and even worse in the long run though he was beginning to wonder if it mattered. Anyway it was the cheapest thing on the menu.

"I wonder if it will stay with me...wherever I turn up next." He didn't know what he wanted the answer to be.

"How studious."

Aziraphale would adore him.... and he was a cheap date. Which for the new delinquent student on a budget was alright by Crowley. Maybe he had a wine allergy or that whole heart attack thing, though some thought wine was good for heart health. Crowley could put that to the test as he was planning to drink copious amounts of the stuff!

"You've been world hopping? I know some one else who has been. Apparently he has even met me in a few of them..."

"I wouldn't doubt it. And I wouldn't call it hopping, more been dragged without so much as a question from one place to another. I'm not even sure where I came from." Though that was a story for a different day.

On the other hand, maybe it didn't have to be.

"When you have so many lives, how do you figure out who you are?"

"That a riddle?"

Crowley considering it as his wine was delivered but didn't bother offering any sort of answer until he had drunk a cup full of the stuff.

"If humans are made up from their life experiences then you would be all of them."

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