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tampered2007-03-21 01:23 am
wingedly.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-03-21 01:23 am
PART ONE OF TWO!
WHEN: BLOOD DAY, begins just after midnight.
RATING: Probably PG at the most right now, but it will get pretty graphic in the next installment.
CHARACTERS: Aziraphale [![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wingedly] & Crazy Demon!Crowley [saunturing_down].
SUMMARY: During the BLOOD DAY curse, Crowley wakes up to find that he’s completely covered in blood due to six million years worth of fighting, which then sets off his inner animalistic demon to take over his rational mind and go crazy—chasing Aziraphale across the whole City, with the intent to harm him.
LOG:
CROWLEY: As soon as he woke up, he knew something was wrong. For one, it was still dark out. Crowley liked his sleep, so he was never keen on waking up when it was still dark. But, none the less, he was awake as he rolled away from the warm angel he was snuggled against momentarily to glance at the clock. Five minutes past midnight.
“What the—“ the demon muttered muzzily, lifting a hand towards the clock, and it was then that he found that his fingers felt very slick. Too slick. And a far too familiar smell was wafting into the air. “The fuck--?!” The demon rolled out of the bed, hand hitting against the bedroom light to flick it, on and he stared down at himself in horror.
He was slowly becoming covered in blood. It was climbing from the tips of his fingers and up his arms and below, over his feet and ankles and up his calves. A curse! What the--?!
The scent of blood hit him like a bus, and he staggered, harshly forcing down the demonic instincts that pushed to the surface due to the smell. He pushed himself to move, landing on the bed and roughly shaking Aziraphale’s shoulder, just incase the angel hadn’t woken up yet.
“Aziraphale! Aziraphale!”
AZIRAPHALE: To be blunt, angels did not dream. Aside from all the business in which they were generally considered to be shepherds of such fantasies during the late hours of the night, these immortal beings in question were strangely devoid of harboring the experience, themselves. Though it is safe to say that one angel in particular had always been a bit different from the rest of the flock, what remained stagnant was no matter how long he tended to sleep in after spending the entire night beside a rather avidly snoring demon, he could not seem to fabricate his own trance as he was so easily able to do for others.
So when the sleepy haze was abruptly taken from him with a quick shake, Aziraphale opened a pair of bright blue eyes almost as if he had not been dozing off in the first place, fixing Crowley with a recognizable look of concern. “My dear—?” Despite the fact that he would like to think that he had not become used to the habit of sleeping on a regular basis as his ever so lovely counterpart had, the angel could not help but suppress a small yawn with the palm of his hand before a pause, growing quite rigid as the musky scent of blood filled his senses all at once. “You’re bleeding? Come here.” With a surprisingly firm grasp upon Crowley’s forearm, Aziraphale made a motion to help with the healing process, but there was no wound and it was becoming obvious that by the aroma dripping with sin that hung in the air for lack of a better phrase, he began to comprehend that this was not the demon’s blood to begin with.
“Oh. . my.”
CROWLEY: Crowley jerked his arm forcibly away from the angel with a snarl that he did not mean, and his eyes widened before he stumbled back off the bed, leaning back against the wall, trying to fight down ancient instincts that threatened to encompass him. Damn this blood! And it didn’t help that it had slid up his arms and legs, over his torso and across his chest and shoulders. He felt drenched in it, and growl ripped from his throat as lengthening claws dug into the plaster of the wall. His voice was a low, raspy hiss as he spoke, eyes growing more and more wild with each passing second as he seemed to transform, black and red scales crawling up his arms, forming a beautifully deadly pattern as his fangs lengthened, poisonous and dangerous.
“Aziraphale—run! Nill she—get her out of here; run Az—“ The angel’s name was a hiss, but there was nothing pleasant or teasing about it this time.
AZIRAPHALE: The angel’s options were seemingly few and far between, though with a slight hum from the back of his dry throat he grasped the bed sheets about him and violently fought back against the basest of natural instincts threatening to overwhelm him too at the sight of the demon’s horrifyingly true form. Ducking out of the room they shared with a troubled, wordless backward glance toward Crowley he then slipped into the next dimly lit hallway and with a small blink, was able to calculate how long it may take to bless the door to Nill’s guest bedroom in order to keep her completely safe from whatever took place during those next few hours. Breathless, the angel proceeded to murmur a prayer, “O God, show compassion to your people in sorrow—be our refuge and our strength to lift us from the darkness of this grief to peace and joy in your presence. We ask this through Christ, our Lord. Amen,” as a tremor raced throughout his outstretched arm, having placed a pale finger upon the wooden door to trace a rather elaborate design upon it with a desperate hope that it would work to protect.
Aziraphale stopped to tilt his curly head to the side just a bit then, bright gaze traveling over the entrance in question before he allowed a thankful sigh to escape him once he took a step or two backward, trying to decide whether or not to add just a bit more before heading back to face Crowley, heart thumping desperately from within his chest and a visible wince crossing over his expression at the musky scent that had apparently followed him all this way.
CROWLEY: Crowley grit his teeth, trying to hold on to the last shards of sanity, trying anything, everything to keep from this—this total, utter and complete loss of control. But no matter how hard he tried, the scent of blood just seemed to overwhelm him, pushing against every shred of his control until it tore it apart. He let out a vicious snarl as the transformation took hold, the scent of blood seeming to invade every pore in his body, leaving no where left to hide. Two sharp horns appeared in his dark hair, and a long tail slithered out, wrapping itself instinctively around his leg. With a low, wicked chuckle, Crowley straightened, jerking his claws out of the wall in which he had lodged them. His lips curved into a frightening smirk and he sauntered towards the entrance to the doorway, long claws curved curiously near his sharp fangs. He leaned on the doorjam breiftly, eyeing the angel in a predatory manner, like a beast eyeing it’s next prey. And there was nothing good about this look. He hissed, a tongue flicking out to lick over sharp fangs and teeth before he spoke in a hiss, his yellow eyes more snakelike than ever and frighteningly wild.
“Well, well, well~~ A pretty little birdy for a pretty little sssssssssssnack~~”
He lifted a claw to his mouth, forked tongue flicking out to lick off the blood that dripped from the tip, savoring the tangy taste. It was hard to tell what kind of blood it was, but the taste was still tangy, salty and delicious. But the blood of an angel...now THAT was a treat~
AZIRAPHALE: At the rather unfamiliar hissing noise, Aziraphale proceeded to cock his head to the side with a meekly questioning look, troubled blue gaze darkening just a bit without his own knowledge at the sight of the threat that now stood before him though he would have liked to think otherwise. With a thick swallow that proved more difficult than ever to fully complete, the angel began to take a few slow steps backward without allowing a muscle to move toward the direction of the young girl’s door just in case the protection made upon it had not worked, a second prayer at his lips just as his elbow connected with the slightly opened window at the far end of the living room. “Quae pervia caeli porta manes, et stella maris, succurre cadenti, surgere qui curat, populo,” testing the waters so to speak, the tone of the angel’s voice had distinctly shifted into that of a mildly commanding divine creature of his own standing and not that of the southern pansy he was so easily mistaken for, during everyday excursions. Though certainly, this wasn’t precisely something that occurred often, much less at all for that Guy’s sake.
CROWLEY: The demon advanced on the angel as he backed up, ears pricking just slightly at the muttered prayer. A smirk, evil and sinister, curled the edges of his lips. “What? You think anyone can hear your prayersssssss down here?” he asked, stalking ever closer, his eyes not leaving his current prey, though he did notice the window that Aziraphale was far too close to. Not that it wouldn’t be fun to play a nice, healthy game of chase...he hadn’t played one of those in so long~
He stepped closer, his voice a sickeningly sweet croon as he slowly extended his claws toward the angel. “Come now, pretty~ I won’t bite~”
AZIRAPHALE: So be it then, the angel spared a resolute thought before he pushed back against the windowpane and was instead off through the door to the apartment quite on accident, deciding that jumping from a ledge even if he was indeed provided with wings was not a terribly intelligent prospect. All but flying down the shadowy corridor, Aziraphale did not feel so much the prey as the unfortunate deceiver, trying desperately to lure the changed Crowley from possibly doing unknown harm to others that he would most assuredly regret later, though he couldn’t rationally place the rhyme or reason behind these strange events other than it having to do with the City, if anything.
Once past the door to which led to the varied staircases of the building complex, the angel glanced back toward the vast darkness spreading out before him since the sun had not yet risen, blinking in order to see as best as possible before he raised a hand and blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Er, the power of Christ compels you!” Not that these prayers had anything to do with warding off the demon so much as keeping him occupied so that he could help to distract from any probable damage, the angel did not wait for a response as he nearly tumbled down the flight of stairs with a worried frown seemingly plastered upon his blushing countenance, pulse fluttering as if he really was the prey.
CROWLEY: Crowley hissed as he followed the angel out the door, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. He moved down the dark corridor with frighteningly graceful movements. The demon raised an eyebrow as Aziraphale fired that line at him, and he laughed, a delighted, wicked sound. “Not really, no.” He responded, following his prey down the stairs, quickening his speed to try and catch up.
AZIRAPHALE: “Ngk,” Aziraphale deadpanned, that very same dry sort of wit poking through even as his muscles tensed just a bit once he had stopped running altogether at the threshold of the building itself, glancing quickly in each direction with bright eyes to assure himself that no innocent bystander would be hassled into this rather unfortunate circumstance. Sighing, the angel fled down the nearest street to his left, deliberately leaving a trail of white feathers in his wake so that the demon would certainly be enticed to follow, all precaution.
Growing rather frantic at this point, Aziraphale threw a troubled glance over his shoulder and with a murmured “oh dear,” the immortal suddenly found that he hadn’t the faintest clue where Crowley had gotten himself off to, which seemed to be quite the bad thing in this situation. “Er—hello there? Ah, I’ve a lovely Bible here, if you like oh heathen—?” And the angel knew then that he was terrifically horrible at those sort of things.
CROWLEY: Crowley watched the angel disappear out the door, spotting the trail of white feathers almost immediately. Please. That was an insult to his intelligence. He unfurled his black wings, now that he was outside, and shot upwards into the night, spotting Aziraphale running below him. With a cruel smirk he dropped down, upside down right in front of the angel, eye to upside-down eye. “Boo.” he stated, flashing sharp fangs before swiping at the angel with his long claws.
AZIRAPHALE: Not entirely quick enough to wholly dodge the attack made upon him, the angel gracelessly tumbled onto his rear with a rather undignified wail as the shock barely registered through his dizzying train of thought, still trying to piece together why these things were occurring. “Ah, do try and be er, a bit more careful?” And maybe the overwhelming scent of musky blood would dissipate sometime soon, though with the way in which Aziraphale was positively forced against his will to dig neatly manicured fingernails into the dingy grime lining the City streets followed by a sympathetic wince in mild despair at the loss of being neat and tidy, he figured with a vaguely rational mind that things wouldn’t be turning out so very well and good during the next few hours.
Then, the angel made a noncommittal noise from the back of his dry throat and decided upon yet another course of action, where he flailed just slightly while pointing a presently muddied finger in the opposite direction over the demon’s left shoe, “Look over there!” and promptly scrambled up onto his rather wobbly legs, to make a beeline for the nearest subway entrance.
CROWLEY: The demon cackled. “Why would I do that~?” he asked, turning himself right side up. He couldn’t help but stare at the angel, however, as he pointed behind the demon and told him to look behind him. “Are you sssssserious?” he asked, turning his head momentarily. “No one fallssss for—“...........well damn. He just fell for it. With a hiss of anger at being temporarily outsmarted, he took off after Aziraphale, his black wings beating against the cool night air, blood dripping from the ends of his wings and feathers and shoes and claws.
AZIRAPHALE: To spend an entire world’s existence with one divine being at the very least could teach one how to sense them while they weren’t directly in one’s line of sight, excluding the fact that they had become romantically attached for lack of a better term and trying to fool himself into believing that one did not care about what his lover did had proved to be a monstrously improbable task in itself, as of late. Not to mention the fact that Aziraphale could have really gone for a bit of sushi right about then, however inappropriate such a thought was to which brought a distinct blush to cross over the bridge of his nose, a mild hum at his dry lips.
If it were possible under the circumstances, he would attempt to keep a bright outlook upon things despite the slimy mildew that practically cascaded down the subway walls and the rather leering look he received when past an older woman leaning up against said wall, a soft “bless thy sins in the name of the Holy Ghost amen” whispered almost as a brief afterthought once he turned the corner, breathing heavily enough to stop for a moment.
CROWLEY: Crowley growled in anger, quickly growing tired of this game of cat and mouse. Or angel and demon. Whatever. He glided through the mucky walls of the subway, wings barely the right size so as not to hinder him, and slicing off an old woman’s head as he flew past, just for kicks. And to help with his temper. It was a quick slice of claws through flesh, but it was satisfying none-the-less to see her head roll, even for the briefest of seconds as he lifted his claws to his mouth, licking off the taste of her blood, as it was still warm. However, it was only a few short moments before he was focused once more on his target, black wings beating against the air currents, trying to catch up with the angel in front of him.
AZIRAPHALE: If anything, the angel could scarcely blink hard enough to see straight after the terribly innocent woman’s life had been so violently taken, causing a sickening tremble to race throughout his limbs as he swooned on his feet, trying with a desperate swallow not to pass out cold from the dreadful offense that was made and how a burning guilt had proceeded to take hold within the pit of his stomach. “This isn’t a—” Game was lost upon Aziraphale’s lips as he caught sight of the strange figure of Crowley still coming toward him, dismayed cerulean gaze growing dimly lit with the knowledge of what lay before them both now in order to restore justice, two purely white wings extended from either side of his shoulder blades on a meek natural feeling once he began to allow a small response to the unnecessary bloodshed, resolute.
From then on the angel would need to take every precaution known in order to protect and save those bystanders from an untimely death, a fact that when he would look back on it after the whole ordeal had ended he would regret having been at such a loss to have allowed such a death to occur, something he would most likely never forgive himself for. And with a determined, albeit wobbly scramble toward the nearest empty hall, Aziraphale flapped his winged appendages fervently in an attempt to dodge a few columns here and there, swooping upward through the nearest open exit and back out onto the streets with a strangled sigh, tucking the feathers out of sight once he had managed to scale a rather low building before ducking down, wet cheek pressed into the concrete of the roof, breathless as he waited for any sound at all.
CROWLEY: Crowley smirked, increasing the speed of his wings to not quite catch up with the angel yet, as he weaved in and out of the columns before following Aziraphale up and out of the subway. He paused for a millisecond, nose lifting into the air to sniff, though he did have a bit of a hard time picking up the angel’s scent over the amount of blood on him, but pick it up he did, and with a predatory smirk, flapped his wings propelling him up to the roof. “No hiding, angel~~” he hissed, bringing his claws down to strike.
AZIRAPHALE: This time around, the unfortunate angel wasn’t precisely quick enough to dodge the attack made upon him as he tumbled to the side in order to get as far away from the violent demon as divinely probable, despite the fact that a low groan escaped him once he struggled to pick himself up with trembling arms, a neatly done collar peeling away to reveal a nasty gash upon his right shoulder as a steady flow of musky blood proceeded to trail down the fabric of his clothes, staining them nicely. “Ngk, Crowley—”
Aziraphale gasped, desperately trying to find his counterpart underneath the rippling waves of negative energy partially surrounding him on all sides and at every angle, making him dizzy with anguish. “—fight this, won’t you?” Pulling to his feet with a soft moan at the blinding pain this motion caused, the angel quickly stumbled backward and expands his wings once more, an ever so slight golden halo beginning to line the light curls over his head even though he would much rather avoid any such battle, in the end.
CROWLEY: The demon before him smirked, lifting his claws to his mouth and slowly licking the angel’s blood off. “Mmmm, deliciousssssss~~” he hissed, yellowed eyes mocking. “Nothing like the blood of an angel. So tasty.” He watched briefly as Aziraphale took to the air before he pushed off, quickly following, claws drawn back to strike again.
AZIRAPHALE: When had things propelled themselves to grow into this whole mess? Taking a bit of a dive while the angel became acquainted with the fact that his right wing seemingly wouldn’t function properly after the muscles at his shoulder were torn, the skin throbbed dully as he all but tumbled downward into the nearest tree, limbs tangled within the branches and breath ragged. Aziraphale squirmed then, flailing just a bit in order to gain his bearings once more only to be met with a second problem in the form of his feathery appendages having been snagged by the sharp leaves and varied paraphernalia of the overly large plant itself. Desperate to move, the angel gave a sharp tug at the branches that held his wings hostage, before he was sent falling down onto the ground below with a bundle of leaves and feathers strewn about everywhere, a soft moan at his lips as he closes his eyes tightly to ward off the dizzy spell.
CROWLEY: Crowley watched with obvious pleasure as the angel tumbled downwards, crashing down into a tree. He flew closer, cackling as Aziraphale became untangled, only to tumble to the ground. “Looks like the angel got a little caught up.” he taunted gleefully, beginning to enjoy the cat and mouse game once again. He landed gracefully into the tree the angel had crashed into, smirking down at him with malicious pleasure. “What’s the matter?” his voice was a mocking, gentle coo. “Poor little angel~~ Are his wings failing him?”
PART TWO!
RATING: Probably PG at the most right now, but it will get pretty graphic in the next installment.
CHARACTERS: Aziraphale [
wingedly] & Crazy Demon!Crowley [saunturing_down].SUMMARY: During the BLOOD DAY curse, Crowley wakes up to find that he’s completely covered in blood due to six million years worth of fighting, which then sets off his inner animalistic demon to take over his rational mind and go crazy—chasing Aziraphale across the whole City, with the intent to harm him.
LOG:
CROWLEY: As soon as he woke up, he knew something was wrong. For one, it was still dark out. Crowley liked his sleep, so he was never keen on waking up when it was still dark. But, none the less, he was awake as he rolled away from the warm angel he was snuggled against momentarily to glance at the clock. Five minutes past midnight.
“What the—“ the demon muttered muzzily, lifting a hand towards the clock, and it was then that he found that his fingers felt very slick. Too slick. And a far too familiar smell was wafting into the air. “The fuck--?!” The demon rolled out of the bed, hand hitting against the bedroom light to flick it, on and he stared down at himself in horror.
He was slowly becoming covered in blood. It was climbing from the tips of his fingers and up his arms and below, over his feet and ankles and up his calves. A curse! What the--?!
The scent of blood hit him like a bus, and he staggered, harshly forcing down the demonic instincts that pushed to the surface due to the smell. He pushed himself to move, landing on the bed and roughly shaking Aziraphale’s shoulder, just incase the angel hadn’t woken up yet.
“Aziraphale! Aziraphale!”
AZIRAPHALE: To be blunt, angels did not dream. Aside from all the business in which they were generally considered to be shepherds of such fantasies during the late hours of the night, these immortal beings in question were strangely devoid of harboring the experience, themselves. Though it is safe to say that one angel in particular had always been a bit different from the rest of the flock, what remained stagnant was no matter how long he tended to sleep in after spending the entire night beside a rather avidly snoring demon, he could not seem to fabricate his own trance as he was so easily able to do for others.
So when the sleepy haze was abruptly taken from him with a quick shake, Aziraphale opened a pair of bright blue eyes almost as if he had not been dozing off in the first place, fixing Crowley with a recognizable look of concern. “My dear—?” Despite the fact that he would like to think that he had not become used to the habit of sleeping on a regular basis as his ever so lovely counterpart had, the angel could not help but suppress a small yawn with the palm of his hand before a pause, growing quite rigid as the musky scent of blood filled his senses all at once. “You’re bleeding? Come here.” With a surprisingly firm grasp upon Crowley’s forearm, Aziraphale made a motion to help with the healing process, but there was no wound and it was becoming obvious that by the aroma dripping with sin that hung in the air for lack of a better phrase, he began to comprehend that this was not the demon’s blood to begin with.
“Oh. . my.”
CROWLEY: Crowley jerked his arm forcibly away from the angel with a snarl that he did not mean, and his eyes widened before he stumbled back off the bed, leaning back against the wall, trying to fight down ancient instincts that threatened to encompass him. Damn this blood! And it didn’t help that it had slid up his arms and legs, over his torso and across his chest and shoulders. He felt drenched in it, and growl ripped from his throat as lengthening claws dug into the plaster of the wall. His voice was a low, raspy hiss as he spoke, eyes growing more and more wild with each passing second as he seemed to transform, black and red scales crawling up his arms, forming a beautifully deadly pattern as his fangs lengthened, poisonous and dangerous.
“Aziraphale—run! Nill she—get her out of here; run Az—“ The angel’s name was a hiss, but there was nothing pleasant or teasing about it this time.
AZIRAPHALE: The angel’s options were seemingly few and far between, though with a slight hum from the back of his dry throat he grasped the bed sheets about him and violently fought back against the basest of natural instincts threatening to overwhelm him too at the sight of the demon’s horrifyingly true form. Ducking out of the room they shared with a troubled, wordless backward glance toward Crowley he then slipped into the next dimly lit hallway and with a small blink, was able to calculate how long it may take to bless the door to Nill’s guest bedroom in order to keep her completely safe from whatever took place during those next few hours. Breathless, the angel proceeded to murmur a prayer, “O God, show compassion to your people in sorrow—be our refuge and our strength to lift us from the darkness of this grief to peace and joy in your presence. We ask this through Christ, our Lord. Amen,” as a tremor raced throughout his outstretched arm, having placed a pale finger upon the wooden door to trace a rather elaborate design upon it with a desperate hope that it would work to protect.
Aziraphale stopped to tilt his curly head to the side just a bit then, bright gaze traveling over the entrance in question before he allowed a thankful sigh to escape him once he took a step or two backward, trying to decide whether or not to add just a bit more before heading back to face Crowley, heart thumping desperately from within his chest and a visible wince crossing over his expression at the musky scent that had apparently followed him all this way.
CROWLEY: Crowley grit his teeth, trying to hold on to the last shards of sanity, trying anything, everything to keep from this—this total, utter and complete loss of control. But no matter how hard he tried, the scent of blood just seemed to overwhelm him, pushing against every shred of his control until it tore it apart. He let out a vicious snarl as the transformation took hold, the scent of blood seeming to invade every pore in his body, leaving no where left to hide. Two sharp horns appeared in his dark hair, and a long tail slithered out, wrapping itself instinctively around his leg. With a low, wicked chuckle, Crowley straightened, jerking his claws out of the wall in which he had lodged them. His lips curved into a frightening smirk and he sauntered towards the entrance to the doorway, long claws curved curiously near his sharp fangs. He leaned on the doorjam breiftly, eyeing the angel in a predatory manner, like a beast eyeing it’s next prey. And there was nothing good about this look. He hissed, a tongue flicking out to lick over sharp fangs and teeth before he spoke in a hiss, his yellow eyes more snakelike than ever and frighteningly wild.
“Well, well, well~~ A pretty little birdy for a pretty little sssssssssssnack~~”
He lifted a claw to his mouth, forked tongue flicking out to lick off the blood that dripped from the tip, savoring the tangy taste. It was hard to tell what kind of blood it was, but the taste was still tangy, salty and delicious. But the blood of an angel...now THAT was a treat~
AZIRAPHALE: At the rather unfamiliar hissing noise, Aziraphale proceeded to cock his head to the side with a meekly questioning look, troubled blue gaze darkening just a bit without his own knowledge at the sight of the threat that now stood before him though he would have liked to think otherwise. With a thick swallow that proved more difficult than ever to fully complete, the angel began to take a few slow steps backward without allowing a muscle to move toward the direction of the young girl’s door just in case the protection made upon it had not worked, a second prayer at his lips just as his elbow connected with the slightly opened window at the far end of the living room. “Quae pervia caeli porta manes, et stella maris, succurre cadenti, surgere qui curat, populo,” testing the waters so to speak, the tone of the angel’s voice had distinctly shifted into that of a mildly commanding divine creature of his own standing and not that of the southern pansy he was so easily mistaken for, during everyday excursions. Though certainly, this wasn’t precisely something that occurred often, much less at all for that Guy’s sake.
CROWLEY: The demon advanced on the angel as he backed up, ears pricking just slightly at the muttered prayer. A smirk, evil and sinister, curled the edges of his lips. “What? You think anyone can hear your prayersssssss down here?” he asked, stalking ever closer, his eyes not leaving his current prey, though he did notice the window that Aziraphale was far too close to. Not that it wouldn’t be fun to play a nice, healthy game of chase...he hadn’t played one of those in so long~
He stepped closer, his voice a sickeningly sweet croon as he slowly extended his claws toward the angel. “Come now, pretty~ I won’t bite~”
AZIRAPHALE: So be it then, the angel spared a resolute thought before he pushed back against the windowpane and was instead off through the door to the apartment quite on accident, deciding that jumping from a ledge even if he was indeed provided with wings was not a terribly intelligent prospect. All but flying down the shadowy corridor, Aziraphale did not feel so much the prey as the unfortunate deceiver, trying desperately to lure the changed Crowley from possibly doing unknown harm to others that he would most assuredly regret later, though he couldn’t rationally place the rhyme or reason behind these strange events other than it having to do with the City, if anything.
Once past the door to which led to the varied staircases of the building complex, the angel glanced back toward the vast darkness spreading out before him since the sun had not yet risen, blinking in order to see as best as possible before he raised a hand and blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Er, the power of Christ compels you!” Not that these prayers had anything to do with warding off the demon so much as keeping him occupied so that he could help to distract from any probable damage, the angel did not wait for a response as he nearly tumbled down the flight of stairs with a worried frown seemingly plastered upon his blushing countenance, pulse fluttering as if he really was the prey.
CROWLEY: Crowley hissed as he followed the angel out the door, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. He moved down the dark corridor with frighteningly graceful movements. The demon raised an eyebrow as Aziraphale fired that line at him, and he laughed, a delighted, wicked sound. “Not really, no.” He responded, following his prey down the stairs, quickening his speed to try and catch up.
AZIRAPHALE: “Ngk,” Aziraphale deadpanned, that very same dry sort of wit poking through even as his muscles tensed just a bit once he had stopped running altogether at the threshold of the building itself, glancing quickly in each direction with bright eyes to assure himself that no innocent bystander would be hassled into this rather unfortunate circumstance. Sighing, the angel fled down the nearest street to his left, deliberately leaving a trail of white feathers in his wake so that the demon would certainly be enticed to follow, all precaution.
Growing rather frantic at this point, Aziraphale threw a troubled glance over his shoulder and with a murmured “oh dear,” the immortal suddenly found that he hadn’t the faintest clue where Crowley had gotten himself off to, which seemed to be quite the bad thing in this situation. “Er—hello there? Ah, I’ve a lovely Bible here, if you like oh heathen—?” And the angel knew then that he was terrifically horrible at those sort of things.
CROWLEY: Crowley watched the angel disappear out the door, spotting the trail of white feathers almost immediately. Please. That was an insult to his intelligence. He unfurled his black wings, now that he was outside, and shot upwards into the night, spotting Aziraphale running below him. With a cruel smirk he dropped down, upside down right in front of the angel, eye to upside-down eye. “Boo.” he stated, flashing sharp fangs before swiping at the angel with his long claws.
AZIRAPHALE: Not entirely quick enough to wholly dodge the attack made upon him, the angel gracelessly tumbled onto his rear with a rather undignified wail as the shock barely registered through his dizzying train of thought, still trying to piece together why these things were occurring. “Ah, do try and be er, a bit more careful?” And maybe the overwhelming scent of musky blood would dissipate sometime soon, though with the way in which Aziraphale was positively forced against his will to dig neatly manicured fingernails into the dingy grime lining the City streets followed by a sympathetic wince in mild despair at the loss of being neat and tidy, he figured with a vaguely rational mind that things wouldn’t be turning out so very well and good during the next few hours.
Then, the angel made a noncommittal noise from the back of his dry throat and decided upon yet another course of action, where he flailed just slightly while pointing a presently muddied finger in the opposite direction over the demon’s left shoe, “Look over there!” and promptly scrambled up onto his rather wobbly legs, to make a beeline for the nearest subway entrance.
CROWLEY: The demon cackled. “Why would I do that~?” he asked, turning himself right side up. He couldn’t help but stare at the angel, however, as he pointed behind the demon and told him to look behind him. “Are you sssssserious?” he asked, turning his head momentarily. “No one fallssss for—“...........well damn. He just fell for it. With a hiss of anger at being temporarily outsmarted, he took off after Aziraphale, his black wings beating against the cool night air, blood dripping from the ends of his wings and feathers and shoes and claws.
AZIRAPHALE: To spend an entire world’s existence with one divine being at the very least could teach one how to sense them while they weren’t directly in one’s line of sight, excluding the fact that they had become romantically attached for lack of a better term and trying to fool himself into believing that one did not care about what his lover did had proved to be a monstrously improbable task in itself, as of late. Not to mention the fact that Aziraphale could have really gone for a bit of sushi right about then, however inappropriate such a thought was to which brought a distinct blush to cross over the bridge of his nose, a mild hum at his dry lips.
If it were possible under the circumstances, he would attempt to keep a bright outlook upon things despite the slimy mildew that practically cascaded down the subway walls and the rather leering look he received when past an older woman leaning up against said wall, a soft “bless thy sins in the name of the Holy Ghost amen” whispered almost as a brief afterthought once he turned the corner, breathing heavily enough to stop for a moment.
CROWLEY: Crowley growled in anger, quickly growing tired of this game of cat and mouse. Or angel and demon. Whatever. He glided through the mucky walls of the subway, wings barely the right size so as not to hinder him, and slicing off an old woman’s head as he flew past, just for kicks. And to help with his temper. It was a quick slice of claws through flesh, but it was satisfying none-the-less to see her head roll, even for the briefest of seconds as he lifted his claws to his mouth, licking off the taste of her blood, as it was still warm. However, it was only a few short moments before he was focused once more on his target, black wings beating against the air currents, trying to catch up with the angel in front of him.
AZIRAPHALE: If anything, the angel could scarcely blink hard enough to see straight after the terribly innocent woman’s life had been so violently taken, causing a sickening tremble to race throughout his limbs as he swooned on his feet, trying with a desperate swallow not to pass out cold from the dreadful offense that was made and how a burning guilt had proceeded to take hold within the pit of his stomach. “This isn’t a—” Game was lost upon Aziraphale’s lips as he caught sight of the strange figure of Crowley still coming toward him, dismayed cerulean gaze growing dimly lit with the knowledge of what lay before them both now in order to restore justice, two purely white wings extended from either side of his shoulder blades on a meek natural feeling once he began to allow a small response to the unnecessary bloodshed, resolute.
From then on the angel would need to take every precaution known in order to protect and save those bystanders from an untimely death, a fact that when he would look back on it after the whole ordeal had ended he would regret having been at such a loss to have allowed such a death to occur, something he would most likely never forgive himself for. And with a determined, albeit wobbly scramble toward the nearest empty hall, Aziraphale flapped his winged appendages fervently in an attempt to dodge a few columns here and there, swooping upward through the nearest open exit and back out onto the streets with a strangled sigh, tucking the feathers out of sight once he had managed to scale a rather low building before ducking down, wet cheek pressed into the concrete of the roof, breathless as he waited for any sound at all.
CROWLEY: Crowley smirked, increasing the speed of his wings to not quite catch up with the angel yet, as he weaved in and out of the columns before following Aziraphale up and out of the subway. He paused for a millisecond, nose lifting into the air to sniff, though he did have a bit of a hard time picking up the angel’s scent over the amount of blood on him, but pick it up he did, and with a predatory smirk, flapped his wings propelling him up to the roof. “No hiding, angel~~” he hissed, bringing his claws down to strike.
AZIRAPHALE: This time around, the unfortunate angel wasn’t precisely quick enough to dodge the attack made upon him as he tumbled to the side in order to get as far away from the violent demon as divinely probable, despite the fact that a low groan escaped him once he struggled to pick himself up with trembling arms, a neatly done collar peeling away to reveal a nasty gash upon his right shoulder as a steady flow of musky blood proceeded to trail down the fabric of his clothes, staining them nicely. “Ngk, Crowley—”
Aziraphale gasped, desperately trying to find his counterpart underneath the rippling waves of negative energy partially surrounding him on all sides and at every angle, making him dizzy with anguish. “—fight this, won’t you?” Pulling to his feet with a soft moan at the blinding pain this motion caused, the angel quickly stumbled backward and expands his wings once more, an ever so slight golden halo beginning to line the light curls over his head even though he would much rather avoid any such battle, in the end.
CROWLEY: The demon before him smirked, lifting his claws to his mouth and slowly licking the angel’s blood off. “Mmmm, deliciousssssss~~” he hissed, yellowed eyes mocking. “Nothing like the blood of an angel. So tasty.” He watched briefly as Aziraphale took to the air before he pushed off, quickly following, claws drawn back to strike again.
AZIRAPHALE: When had things propelled themselves to grow into this whole mess? Taking a bit of a dive while the angel became acquainted with the fact that his right wing seemingly wouldn’t function properly after the muscles at his shoulder were torn, the skin throbbed dully as he all but tumbled downward into the nearest tree, limbs tangled within the branches and breath ragged. Aziraphale squirmed then, flailing just a bit in order to gain his bearings once more only to be met with a second problem in the form of his feathery appendages having been snagged by the sharp leaves and varied paraphernalia of the overly large plant itself. Desperate to move, the angel gave a sharp tug at the branches that held his wings hostage, before he was sent falling down onto the ground below with a bundle of leaves and feathers strewn about everywhere, a soft moan at his lips as he closes his eyes tightly to ward off the dizzy spell.
CROWLEY: Crowley watched with obvious pleasure as the angel tumbled downwards, crashing down into a tree. He flew closer, cackling as Aziraphale became untangled, only to tumble to the ground. “Looks like the angel got a little caught up.” he taunted gleefully, beginning to enjoy the cat and mouse game once again. He landed gracefully into the tree the angel had crashed into, smirking down at him with malicious pleasure. “What’s the matter?” his voice was a mocking, gentle coo. “Poor little angel~~ Are his wings failing him?”