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tampered2007-03-22 12:35 am
wingedly.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-03-22 12:35 am
PART TWO OF TWO!
WHEN: BLOOD DAY, toward the very end of the late evening hours, nearly midnight.
RATING: Ah, PG-13 due to excessive violence.
CHARACTERS: Mainly Aziraphale [![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wingedly] & Crazy Demon!Crowley [saunturing_down]—though guest appearances will be made by Death hell_followed, Famine [hungered], Lady Pestilence [igotadisease], Pollution [oilspill_angel], and War [smiledlikeknife].
SUMMARY: It’s been a good solid couple of hours since we last left the angel and demon playing a dangerous game of bird and snake, if you will—and now the cursed Crowley intends to finish it by making Aziraphale fall from grace.
LOG:
AZIRAPHALE: All of it, those rather long centuries past spent adjusting and modifying the Arrangement had positively gone to waste with this day as it had quite literally stretched the angel rather too thin for him to rightfully handle without a soft, desperate little moan as he regretfully opened one bright cobalt eye to dizzily return back to conscious thought after having passed out a minute or so previously, trembling from head to toe. Not a breath passed his lips before he sat up only to be met with a low hanging branch that promptly sent Aziraphale tumbling backwards into the nearest shrubbery, which could have easily knocked him out cold had he not been a divine being of a considerably frantic nature at that moment in time in order to escape the ineffable.
How crude a jest, the angel thought with just a hint of his own brewing madness that threatened to overcome his rational side, wings simply aching to be spread out wide in defense even though he fought violently against the act with a breathless moan, looking the perfect little picture of distress as he wandered forward upon his hands and knees. Over the past few hours, Aziraphale had seemingly donned an entirely new appearance compared to that of his particular neat nature when during an everyday excursion, for now he held a rather glaring dark bruise covering over one whole eye to make it difficult to view the world as he had beforehand, flaxen curls tangled with loose debris from the wild plant life he had encountered during the fervent attempt to flee, while the fabric of his muddy clothes tore at varied places and crusted with salty blood.
Choking slightly once he tried to swallow against the dry lump forming at the back of his throat, Aziraphale winced distinctly as his pallid gaze turned heavenward, a whimper passing his broken lips in the form of the divine ancient language, trying a last resort to give Crowley peace enough to tame the beast within him, even though he had promptly lost track of all time since then and hadn’t the faintest clue where the demon had slunk off to, despite the fact that the angel bristled visibly once he sensed his counterpart’s aura drawing near. “Here,” the angel called out as best he could with a rather hoarse voice, a frown crossing over his dark expression as a golden halo proceeded to become noticeable from just over his brow, though he hadn’t wished it so.
CROWLEY: They had been playing an intriguing game of cat and mouse the entire day, providing minor scuffles when Crawly finally caught up to the angel once or twice. But he was tiring of this game, and it was getting closer and closer to the time for the show. It was a good idea to grab Aziraphale now and get him to Xanadu. Best do it properly, after all~~! Angels can’t fall in just any place, you know~!
So it was with glee that Crawley’s ears perked, picking up Aziraphale’s hoarse call. Perfect~! He leapt over to the angel from behind, his intent to sink his claws into Aziraphale’s shoulders and hold him down, to feel the flesh give under his sharp claws and to revel in the warm blood that would pool around the wounds.
AZIRAPHALE: Only then had the angel’s wings sprung forth with a somewhat violent motion at the agony ripping through his shoulder blades, a dry sob effectively muffled as his dirty cheek was pressed into the cold cement of the streets without mercy, vision blurred with dripping sweat and unshed tears as he opened two widely startled pale eyes, donning the look of one caught in severe headlights. “Crowl—ngk,” Aziraphale couldn’t help but convulse with a pair of twitching feathery appendages to which expanded at an even greater rate than he could have imagined or prevented from happening, it’s final length encompassing the entire rotting trunk of the nearest tree at the very least, which was fairly tall for such a dismal looking thing. Despite the fact that the angel had chewed down ruthlessly upon his lower lip in a vain attempt to keep from exposing his rather vulnerable, basest divine form when the demon was so enthusiastic about dragging him downward, he merely succeeded in whimpering quietly under his breath and throwing a meek glance over his shoulder, a steady flow of tangy blood pooling out about his figure from where he had been pinned. “Are you. .” a shaky breath, “. . quite finished, dear?”
CROWLEY: Crawly grinned sadistically as his claws sank into the soft flesh of the angel’s shoulders, watching as Aziraphale’s wings, his full wings, came out of his back. He laughed in pleasure, leaning down to lick off some of the blood pooling around his fangs with frightening gentleness before drew back a bit, licking his lips. “Deliciousssssssss~~” he stated, his fingers twisting just the slightest bit to cause the blood to flow faster from the wounds and to cause more pain. The demon pulled one set of claws out of Aziraphale’s shoulders, flicking out his tongue to lick up some of the blood on his hand to taste, before he ran his palm down the trail of blood across the angel’s back. Crawly lifted his now very bloody hand, caressing the angel’s wing in a sickening pantomime of gentleness, smearing the blood on his hands across Aziraphale’s feathers.
“Finissssshed?” he asked, with a sickening smirk. “Why, Aziraphale, the show starts soon! We wouldn’t want to dissssssssappoint, would we?” And so saying, he ripped his other set of claws out of the angel’s shoulder, going to the back of Aziraphale’s neck to wrap a hand around the back of his neck, dragging him rather roughly to his feet.
AZIRAPHALE: To the angel, it was not so much the literal abuse that was presently being inflicted upon his upper back muscles to which positively ached with a dull throbbing that set his every nerve on fire, but the fact that it was his ever so loving demon that performed these wretched things to him. Even though Aziraphale desperately tried to convince himself otherwise, to close off a now colorless gaze from the unspeakably brutal world and turn his head decidedly away from the carnage, the fact remained with a sickening nausea overwhelming his violently broken form as a hoarse cough tore at his chest and left a pool of blood upon the cement below in it’s wake, that Crowley was indeed the killer and he the unfortunate victim.
“No,” at being hauled to his feet much too quickly to properly focus upon the world about him as it spun viciously in and out of view, the angel made a soft groan before one last attempt at squirming out of the demon’s arms to he could escape a fate worse than death—falling. Especially at the hands of one he cared for so very dearly, Aziraphale knew in the back of the drugged haze that was his sane thought process Crowley would regret ever having anything to do with this curse later on, and he would need to fight to protect his divinity if not for himself, but his love.
CROWLEY: “Come along, pretty angel, we have a show to put on~!” Crawly practically hissed, still holding onto the back of the angel’s neck as he opened his dark wings, propelling himself and Aziraphale into the air, turning his way towards Xanadu. “And of courssssssse, we can’t disappoint dearesssssst War~ We musssssst get their earily!” His voice was cheery and conversational, like what he was speaking of going to a party or some sort of thing where they would both enjoy themselves. “Ah! The Garden of Eden! Where it begins and where it ends, then, eh?” And so saying he began to lower them towards the ground in the center of Xanadu.
AZIRAPHALE: The angel struggled against the tight hold upon the back of his neck fruitlessly, a desperate flap of his wings proving useless as a startlingly painful shock traveled throughout his exhaustedly pale limbs in order to keep him at bay, unable to make any sudden motions or else made to suffer the blinding ache to which centered about the places where his clothes lay bathed in caked blood. Once placed upon the ground, Aziraphale all but sank onto his wobbly knees and made an emphatic little moan in despair, eyes dilating with the overwhelming ache that overcame him in waves though his gaze had turned rather blank, still trying with a concerned frown to push everything away in order to cope with these dreadful events. “Please—please, my dear—”
With a thick, dry swallow the angel vainly attempted to tuck his overly large wings back behind him, only able to wince with a hoarse sob as a pure white feather or two had already begun to dust over the grassy fields of the garden itself while they had descended together. “—do try to listen to reason?” Somewhat frantic by now, Aziraphale pushed at the limits of his mutilated human body and scrambled to his feet to flee the scene, though he began to swoon the moment he rose to a standing position and looked as if he might be violently ill with blood any minute.
PART ONE!
RATING: Ah, PG-13 due to excessive violence.
CHARACTERS: Mainly Aziraphale [
wingedly] & Crazy Demon!Crowley [saunturing_down]—though guest appearances will be made by Death hell_followed, Famine [hungered], Lady Pestilence [igotadisease], Pollution [oilspill_angel], and War [smiledlikeknife].SUMMARY: It’s been a good solid couple of hours since we last left the angel and demon playing a dangerous game of bird and snake, if you will—and now the cursed Crowley intends to finish it by making Aziraphale fall from grace.
LOG:
AZIRAPHALE: All of it, those rather long centuries past spent adjusting and modifying the Arrangement had positively gone to waste with this day as it had quite literally stretched the angel rather too thin for him to rightfully handle without a soft, desperate little moan as he regretfully opened one bright cobalt eye to dizzily return back to conscious thought after having passed out a minute or so previously, trembling from head to toe. Not a breath passed his lips before he sat up only to be met with a low hanging branch that promptly sent Aziraphale tumbling backwards into the nearest shrubbery, which could have easily knocked him out cold had he not been a divine being of a considerably frantic nature at that moment in time in order to escape the ineffable.
How crude a jest, the angel thought with just a hint of his own brewing madness that threatened to overcome his rational side, wings simply aching to be spread out wide in defense even though he fought violently against the act with a breathless moan, looking the perfect little picture of distress as he wandered forward upon his hands and knees. Over the past few hours, Aziraphale had seemingly donned an entirely new appearance compared to that of his particular neat nature when during an everyday excursion, for now he held a rather glaring dark bruise covering over one whole eye to make it difficult to view the world as he had beforehand, flaxen curls tangled with loose debris from the wild plant life he had encountered during the fervent attempt to flee, while the fabric of his muddy clothes tore at varied places and crusted with salty blood.
Choking slightly once he tried to swallow against the dry lump forming at the back of his throat, Aziraphale winced distinctly as his pallid gaze turned heavenward, a whimper passing his broken lips in the form of the divine ancient language, trying a last resort to give Crowley peace enough to tame the beast within him, even though he had promptly lost track of all time since then and hadn’t the faintest clue where the demon had slunk off to, despite the fact that the angel bristled visibly once he sensed his counterpart’s aura drawing near. “Here,” the angel called out as best he could with a rather hoarse voice, a frown crossing over his dark expression as a golden halo proceeded to become noticeable from just over his brow, though he hadn’t wished it so.
CROWLEY: They had been playing an intriguing game of cat and mouse the entire day, providing minor scuffles when Crawly finally caught up to the angel once or twice. But he was tiring of this game, and it was getting closer and closer to the time for the show. It was a good idea to grab Aziraphale now and get him to Xanadu. Best do it properly, after all~~! Angels can’t fall in just any place, you know~!
So it was with glee that Crawley’s ears perked, picking up Aziraphale’s hoarse call. Perfect~! He leapt over to the angel from behind, his intent to sink his claws into Aziraphale’s shoulders and hold him down, to feel the flesh give under his sharp claws and to revel in the warm blood that would pool around the wounds.
AZIRAPHALE: Only then had the angel’s wings sprung forth with a somewhat violent motion at the agony ripping through his shoulder blades, a dry sob effectively muffled as his dirty cheek was pressed into the cold cement of the streets without mercy, vision blurred with dripping sweat and unshed tears as he opened two widely startled pale eyes, donning the look of one caught in severe headlights. “Crowl—ngk,” Aziraphale couldn’t help but convulse with a pair of twitching feathery appendages to which expanded at an even greater rate than he could have imagined or prevented from happening, it’s final length encompassing the entire rotting trunk of the nearest tree at the very least, which was fairly tall for such a dismal looking thing. Despite the fact that the angel had chewed down ruthlessly upon his lower lip in a vain attempt to keep from exposing his rather vulnerable, basest divine form when the demon was so enthusiastic about dragging him downward, he merely succeeded in whimpering quietly under his breath and throwing a meek glance over his shoulder, a steady flow of tangy blood pooling out about his figure from where he had been pinned. “Are you. .” a shaky breath, “. . quite finished, dear?”
CROWLEY: Crawly grinned sadistically as his claws sank into the soft flesh of the angel’s shoulders, watching as Aziraphale’s wings, his full wings, came out of his back. He laughed in pleasure, leaning down to lick off some of the blood pooling around his fangs with frightening gentleness before drew back a bit, licking his lips. “Deliciousssssssss~~” he stated, his fingers twisting just the slightest bit to cause the blood to flow faster from the wounds and to cause more pain. The demon pulled one set of claws out of Aziraphale’s shoulders, flicking out his tongue to lick up some of the blood on his hand to taste, before he ran his palm down the trail of blood across the angel’s back. Crawly lifted his now very bloody hand, caressing the angel’s wing in a sickening pantomime of gentleness, smearing the blood on his hands across Aziraphale’s feathers.
“Finissssshed?” he asked, with a sickening smirk. “Why, Aziraphale, the show starts soon! We wouldn’t want to dissssssssappoint, would we?” And so saying, he ripped his other set of claws out of the angel’s shoulder, going to the back of Aziraphale’s neck to wrap a hand around the back of his neck, dragging him rather roughly to his feet.
AZIRAPHALE: To the angel, it was not so much the literal abuse that was presently being inflicted upon his upper back muscles to which positively ached with a dull throbbing that set his every nerve on fire, but the fact that it was his ever so loving demon that performed these wretched things to him. Even though Aziraphale desperately tried to convince himself otherwise, to close off a now colorless gaze from the unspeakably brutal world and turn his head decidedly away from the carnage, the fact remained with a sickening nausea overwhelming his violently broken form as a hoarse cough tore at his chest and left a pool of blood upon the cement below in it’s wake, that Crowley was indeed the killer and he the unfortunate victim.
“No,” at being hauled to his feet much too quickly to properly focus upon the world about him as it spun viciously in and out of view, the angel made a soft groan before one last attempt at squirming out of the demon’s arms to he could escape a fate worse than death—falling. Especially at the hands of one he cared for so very dearly, Aziraphale knew in the back of the drugged haze that was his sane thought process Crowley would regret ever having anything to do with this curse later on, and he would need to fight to protect his divinity if not for himself, but his love.
CROWLEY: “Come along, pretty angel, we have a show to put on~!” Crawly practically hissed, still holding onto the back of the angel’s neck as he opened his dark wings, propelling himself and Aziraphale into the air, turning his way towards Xanadu. “And of courssssssse, we can’t disappoint dearesssssst War~ We musssssst get their earily!” His voice was cheery and conversational, like what he was speaking of going to a party or some sort of thing where they would both enjoy themselves. “Ah! The Garden of Eden! Where it begins and where it ends, then, eh?” And so saying he began to lower them towards the ground in the center of Xanadu.
AZIRAPHALE: The angel struggled against the tight hold upon the back of his neck fruitlessly, a desperate flap of his wings proving useless as a startlingly painful shock traveled throughout his exhaustedly pale limbs in order to keep him at bay, unable to make any sudden motions or else made to suffer the blinding ache to which centered about the places where his clothes lay bathed in caked blood. Once placed upon the ground, Aziraphale all but sank onto his wobbly knees and made an emphatic little moan in despair, eyes dilating with the overwhelming ache that overcame him in waves though his gaze had turned rather blank, still trying with a concerned frown to push everything away in order to cope with these dreadful events. “Please—please, my dear—”
With a thick, dry swallow the angel vainly attempted to tuck his overly large wings back behind him, only able to wince with a hoarse sob as a pure white feather or two had already begun to dust over the grassy fields of the garden itself while they had descended together. “—do try to listen to reason?” Somewhat frantic by now, Aziraphale pushed at the limits of his mutilated human body and scrambled to his feet to flee the scene, though he began to swoon the moment he rose to a standing position and looked as if he might be violently ill with blood any minute.
no subject
Quite frankly, War did not really care the outcome of this, as long it was entertaining to watch and avoided further regrets on the parts in the future. Red did not want Aziraphale to fall from grace for a simple logic of opposite sides, what would be the conflict if they were both demons? None, after the initial betrayal, slightly irritating to the horsemen. That did not mean she would help to stop the fight out of mercy. She wanted that, but did not favor either side.
“Yes, Crawly, listen to reason, would you?” she interrupted Aziraphale, her voice cut the atmosphere with the impact of a grenade. Leaning off, War straightened her posture and grinned. “Where is my feather? You didn’t forget, did you?”
no subject
Crawly only raised an eyebrow as the angel attempted to push to his feet, but was distracted, a pleased smirk curling the corners of his lips as War materialized, her identifying scent hitting him and pleasing him. She had come! Good! Out of all the Horsemen, she was his favorite, with her frighteningly beautiful looks, he revered her as one would a treasured mistress or queen. He did, however, end up chuckling nastily at her first comment.
“My dearessssst War, reasssson isssss what I’m lisssstening to right now~” he stated, before he grabbed the back of the angel’s neck, forcing him back onto his knees before his other hand reached out, stroking lovingly through the angel’s feathers before grasping a particularly large feather, as long as his forearm, and yanking, pulling it out with a harsh ripping sound.
no subject
Nothing, Aziraphale thought rather distantly, pale gaze focusing in a dizzy fashion as he attempted to look upon War without judgment, eyes clouded with an inexplicable determination that he would never be betrayed by Crowley, for he had already forgiven him for this day long before it had begun.
no subject
Her smile widened at the feather, but her yellow eyes were fixated on Aziraphale’s. Yellow and orange as fire, like the edge of the sword he had denied when she had offered prior his humiliation and defeat. She inclined her head at him, knowing how he felt, respecting the will to fight in silence.
“That’s sweet of you. Kiss the feather, dip it on his blood and yours,” War instructed, pausing on her stalking. “Let him have a breath. You don’t want him to really break before the others come. The lord is in a mood, he would like a good show.”
no subject
"My lady War, to you I presssssssent this angel's feather, coated with the blood of mine and of the angel that is my opponent." A smirk curled his lips before he dropped his head. "Please accept it with my humblesssssst gratitude for your attendancccce thissss evening."
no subject
"Turn, Crowley." Ink began to slide over the angel’s helplessly motionless forearm as the rune melted, before the heavenly sword appeared clasped within his hand, a desperate grimace crossing over his expression as he attempted to fight this, wings unfurling even more greatly than before. "O Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, lead all souls to heaven, especially those who are in most need of Thy mercy." Though this wasn’t a properly normal occurrence, Aziraphale could utterly drop his everyday façade when facing down a powerful enemy, naturally soft voice and disposition falling away as he frowned, unwilling to smite any demon especially one named Crowley.