sauntereddownward | (no subject)

(no subject)

Crowley had been busy. He'd had a rather dastardly idea and with a bit of proper nudging of 'influencers' (whatever those were) and a quick trip to Reddit, he had a new viral sensation. It was sort of like the ice bucket challenge, except it didn't benefit any charities and instead involved putting hot sauce up the nose. It worried parents, caused a bit of harmless mayhem, and most of all...it tarnished the souls of all those who laughed at idiots' misfortunes.

Sure, it wasn't tempting a priest, but it was a laugh.

He sat in the autumn sun outside an interesting little tea shop. He had a steaming cup of a lapsang suchong blend that made the air smell like a campfire. A subtle scent under the cigarette smoke. Crowley was watching his mobile and chuckling along as another bloody idiot put hot sauce on a cotton tip and stuffed it up his nose and began to wail.

"People will do anything to be famous," he said to himself.

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Crowley watched him with an intense, unblinking gaze. The funny thing about Evil was that so much could be accomplished by simply telling uncomfortable Truths.

Unsure of what to say, the fae remained silent, looking down at the bed.

Crowley was quiet long enough for it to be exquisitely uncomfortable, then he took a breath and let it out through his nose.

"I could use another drink," he said, finally letting Fin stop twisting.

"Help yourself," the fae said, nodding at the bottle. "Or if you want something else, I could grab something different I suppose."

When he shrugged you could see his bones all the more clear, so pale and frail, a ghost of a man. It wasn't attractive, but on some level that was the point.

"What have you got to offer?" he asked. He looked Fin over, all the angles and shadows...Now, Crowley was a rather slender fellow, but nothing like what he saw. It was almost painful to look at Fin like this.

"Bit of everything. I get gifted bottles all the time," the fae shrugged.

"Do you have any Midori?" he asked, still looking Fin up and down. He felt...not exactly pity, but something like it. How terrible it must be to dislike oneself so much. The little fae was eating himself alive. Crowley wondered if anyone even noticed.

"Hmm, probably not. How about chocolate liquor or some sort of schnapps?" the fae offered, feeling Crowley's gaze but trying not to react.

"I do like chocolate," he mused. Then he very pointedly asked, "Do you eat chocolate? Or just drink it?"

Fin frowned at that, then rolled his eyes. "Whatever lecture you've got, I don't need it. I'll get the booze though, alright?"

"I'm not a professor. Nor am I a father. I don't lecture," the demon replied. He got up to saunter after Fin in search of a drink.

"Whatever you say. ...You know I was going to bring you the drink though, yeah?" he asked when the demon followed.

"Do you live to serve? I doubt that very much. Besides, this way I can choose my glass," he said as he broke off to the kitchen to find a pint glass. Perhaps a bit much for a liqueur, but Gluttony was one of his specialties.

Fin shrugged, Letting Crowley help himself. He didn't mind if they had the whole bottle, honestly.

Crowley took what he liked, a bit Greedy it seemed, yet the level in the bottle didn't diminish one bit. He took a sip and smiled.

"So." He licked his upper lip with a slither of his forked tongue. "Why don't you eat? Or do you, but it's some strange fae thing where everything outside the Veil tastes like ash, or wotnot."

Fin frowned, ducking his head.

"It's an illness. Do you ask someone with a cold why they sneeze?" Fin countered, even though he knew exactly why he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"Typically, yes. I like knowing if it's a virus or cocaine," he replied dryly.

"Yeah, well, it's rude," Fin huffed, looking away.

"Exactly what is it about me that lead you to think I was polite?" Crowley asked.

"Never said I thought you were, just letting you know you're being an arse right now," Fin assured him.

"One of the many services I provide," he chuckled. "People often say that when I point out an uncomfortable truth. I've always found the truth much more damning than any lie on my part."

"You want to know why I don't eat? Because when I was a bit fitter the wrong people were paying too much attention- Taking things I wasn't offering. But then I started looking less well, and suddenly they weren't touching anymore. Suddenly I was free," the fae said, reaching for his cigarettes and lighting up.

Crowley considered that for a moment, then produced his own silver case. He very delicately plucked a cigarette, closed the case and tucked it away, then lit up with his Zippo.

It chinked when he closed it.

A deep drag, then he spoke, smoke boiling out of his mouth with every word.

"You've made yourself less attractive to predators?" he asked. "Human beings are, for the most part, garbage. Given Free Will and they choose often to be selfish, base, violent creatures. But, dear boy, I fear you're hardly free. You're in a prison of your own making. One that is shrinking away to nothing. You do know you can't control others by undoing yourself, don't you?"

"It's working so far," Fin said quietly.

"Is it? Is it really?" he asked...almost...kindly.

"How many roles, on average, would you say you're not being invited to because you look unhealthy? Not because the dodgy wanker in charge doesn't want to roger you now that you're a ghost of yourself, but rather because they don't want to hire a skeleton?"