[Active/Closed] I've made a huge, tiny mistake

[sparkofgoodness]

Who: Crowley, Aziraphale, possibly Odin
What: Crowley doing something he was told not to do
When: 4th/5th loosely
Where: Aziraphale's room and beyond.
Warnings: In which Crowley nearly dies, briefly.


Like many days before it, it's a slow day.

Crowley has, so far, gotten absolutely nowhere interesting with his research. He's draped backwards over Aziraphale's bed, reading the screen of his fancy not-quite-phone thing that works through the bracelet.

All he has achieved in the short time he's been here is:

- One, ironically align himself with a supposed god of secrecy
- Two, briefly get Odin's attention and a hefty supply of Aziraphale's wine
- Three, work out he can now use an annoyingly limited amount of magic.

He can still say, with extreme confidence, that he hates this. At the very least he might admit he's getting used to it, and having the wine around helps. Thing is, that'll run out. It'll run out and Crowley is running out of ways to distract himself from Aziraphale's reluctance to talk about... things. Things that he's trying to avoid thinking about, since he isn't allowed to talk about them.

The one thing he has going right now is a continued campaign to wear down Odin. Up until now it's been rather one-sided, since after the initial replies he'd largely told him no and ignored him. There's no real harm in trying, though, so for the four weeks or so since he'd first managed to get an answer Crowley has been trying.

Trying in several senses of the word, it might be said.

The rooms are small, Crowley is restless, and his entertainment in short illusions where he restyles himself has already begun to fade. What else is a demon to do?

What he hadn't expected, admittedly, is an actual reply.

He blinks at it -- no benefit? Whatever -- then glances down at his bracelets. He wiggles frantically to sit up and swing his legs off the bed as they start to glow.

"Aziraphale!" he exclaims, clearly excited. "I've done it! Loo-"

Then, in a flash of light, Crowley is gone.

Five minutes pass, and he's still gone. Ten minutes pass. In the arrival room Crowley is, admittedly, more focused on questioning Odin as much as possible than considering returning to Aziraphale. He's a little shaken, but also very indignant.

It did all seem like a good idea at the time.

Comments

[benedicus]

Thankfully, Crowley had decided that after that particularly awful night at the castle that he would make himself useful and focus his attention on needling Odin for answers. Answers that Aziraphale had no real expectation of Odin providing, mind you, but it was important for Crowley to experience some of Aziraphale's insurmountable frustrations first-hand. Especially since he was apparently not at all that willing to simply take Aziraphale's word for most of it.

He seemed to maintain his own ideas about how things ought to work and be solved. Since he didn't feel Aziraphale had been doing an adequate job at facilitating their return, he was more than keen to leave Crowley to own his devices and see if he could make any further progress than he had. There was a possibility that he had before, wasn't there? With that being the source of why he vanished in the first place?

Additionally, it also helped that it was something to occupy Crowley well enough to keep him from trying to dredge up old, unwanted conversation. With any luck, Crowley will forget about it entirely—Aziraphale knows he won't, but he hopes that he will anyway. It would be the polite thing to do and Crowley could use a little more politeness.

Especially with all the noise he has been making in his room while Aziraphale has been trying read through one of the books he had borrowed from the library. Crowley has been spending his time both narrating things he's read on the "network" or making general commentary about those said things, and Aziraphale is just about to ask him to not do any the things he's doing when Crowley suddenly flings himself off the bed.

Suddenly, there is light. So, so much light—

—And Crowley is gone.

Everything inside of Aziraphale runs cold, momentarily forgetting how he's even supposed to breathe as icy fear surges through his veins.

"What the fuck," he hisses out, instantly rising up to his feet and knocking his chair down to the floor with a loud clatter in the process. He spends the never several minutes tearing through his room as if he might find Crowley somehow mysteriously lodged somewhere that he shouldn't be and he's praying, praying, that will be the case.

It's not.

Crowley isn't there. He isn't anywhere.

He's gone. Again.

"I've done it," Crowley had said. What he had he done? Had he actually figured it out and the both of them were right about what happened the first time? That Crowley somehow unlocked the secrets and the so-called gods had taken away part of him for it? Was Aziraphale simply the only one stuck here? Was Crowley even going to come back this time?

He presses his palms against his eyes. He needs to find Odin.