paradisalost | out there beyond the wall

Entry tags:

out there beyond the wall

Who: Crowley and Faye
What: Seeing what breaks first
When: Sunday evening
Where: Room 1007
Rating: PG13?

This hanging in limbo thing was killing her. Which, was generally very true, but she clung to this fact with an especially determined strength now, as she made her way down the hall. Tugged along behind her was a little red wagon full of plants, packed neatly together so that no leaves wouldn't get pinched as they bounced along.

She couldn't keep up this uncertain tug of war anymore, so... she needed to go face the end of this particular rope. Fast-forward to reaching the end of it. That's what she told herself as she reached the door and hesitated outside of it, as if she imagined that it was going to magically open on its own.

She just focused on this one thought, this one goal, and refused to give any validity to those other, far more sneaky, ones-- the ones that she had to trick herself out of paying attention to. She wasn't here hoping for anything else but giving her plants back. She wasn't.

When she finally felt secure in this fact, she picked up her arm and knocked on the door.

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He caught it, but it was gone so quickly, he wasn't sure he even heard it. Instead, he kept his eyes on her, his arms still folded.

"Try me, I might surprise you."

"Why bother? Everything is already changing. It's already all going to hell."

Maybe not the best choice of words, for a couple of different reasons, but that anxious edge is getting impossible to keep away now.

Perhaps it was the reference to Hell. Perhaps it was the fact that, once again, she was pushing him away, refusing to tell him what was going on yet still claiming she wanted him around. Whatever the reason, it was like a light to a fuse. Crowley's eyes flickered red for a moment, anger fuelling his words rather than sense.

"Why bother? Because I love you, you stupid cow!"

He regretted it the second he said it. Not because the words were untrue, they weren't, but he know such an admission never went well for him. By saying such a thing out loud...well it just signed that other person's ticket home. Fuck.

...By the reaction that crossed her fact at that, he might as well have physically punched her. Absolutely dumbstruck. As if she found herself rounding a corner and suddenly stumbling into whatever faceless thing it was that she feared most.

Of all the things that she ever expected to hear him say, this was obviously not one that she was prepared for. Her expression, the breath held in her lungs, it all hovered for a moment. "--What?"

Crowley let out a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Bollocks."

Well, what was said was said. There was no taking that back. He huffed a little, looking up at the ceiling to gather himself.

"You heard me."

"--No."

It was a tone that said he was trying to push her toward some sort of trap. A nameless tension welled up in her; she inexplicably wanted to slap him.

"No... you can't do that!"

Crowley narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses, the moment of worry gone and replaced with anger again.

"Yeah, well, I did it. Now we'll just have to live with it. Or not. I don't know what the fuck you want any more, Faye, and I'm tried of trying to guess."

Edited 2011-07-29 19:13 (UTC)

She didn't know either, and she scrambled to figure it out as she felt everything crumbling down around her. It felt as though no matter what she decided to do, the world was going to crack open and swallow her up. She wanted to run. "I can't--" But the ground silently rumbled, threatening, under her feet; if she ran, it would be to right over the edge. She wanted to stay. But the fear of those collapsing walls was terrifying. Claustrophobic.

The frustration finally came erupting out in the form of accusations. Because it was obviously his fault that she was having trouble making up her mind in the first place. "--Why do you have to be so impossible!"

He'd half expected her to be gone already. To run off to whatever hidey hole she had lined up, until the castle inevitably whisked her off like all the others. And then she said that...and he suddenly felt very indignant.

"Me? I'm not the one prancing off for fucking months on end without word!"

Frankly, she'd expected herself to be gone by now, too.

"That's what I do, Crowley! I thought you would have figured that out by now. I'm not going to sit around and wait for something to catch me.

...And it's never been a problem before!"

"If you'd just tell me what the hell you were running from I could have stopped it. But no, you'd rather prance around the town like an idiot. People have been dying there, Faye, or have you not been paying attention to that fact?"

That was as close as he'd allow himself to get to admitting every time he heard of a death there, his heart was in his throat, scared that it would be her.

She went to immediately bite back, until the full implication of what he was saying sunk in. It took some of the wind out of her sails, making her reply a lot less angry-sounding than she wanted.

"...I've taken care of myself just fine."

"Yeah, right up to the point where you wouldn't be," Crowley replied.

He let out a huffed breath, turning to glare out of the window. It did feel like a weight had been lifted slightly, but he was certain this was coming to bite him in the arse later.

"But fine, piss off, if that's what you want. I'm not going to stop you."

That would normally have been her cue. It should have been her cue. But she found herself glancing from him, to the stupid wagon of plants, and back again. She told herself that her reasoning was more important than anything. She told herself that this all really didn't mean a thing. She wanted to turn on her heel and head out into the hall... but she didn't quite manage it.

And she hated herself for it. She hated the fact that she was even in this position, and she hated that it suddenly reminded her, very sharply, of something else. It was something that she'd never been able to come close to understanding until that very moment. Some memory flipped itself unwillingly around in her head, and she balked when she realized where she found herself.

Her voice had changed considerably by the time she found her words again. Still angry, but colder and quieter.

"It's not you I want to get away from."

He'd been waiting for the slam of the door. Everything he knew about her told him she would have turned away and gone. The fact the didn't was enough to make him turn around, eyebrows knotting above the rim of his shades, confused.

"Considering you were beaten up to hell, I figured that one out for myself."

She couldn't quite bring herself to meet his eyes, her gaze falling away somewhere off to the side as he turned. She tried to cover the heavy defeat in her voice with a scoff.

"...Tch. I know he could find me again if he really wanted to."

There was the slightest arch of an eyebrow, to show he was listening. Was she...telling him what he wanted to know? Well. That was a turn up for the books.

"He?"

Don't bring it to her attention. She was having a hard enough time believing it herself.

"Yeah, he. Somebody I thought would never show up here." She dragged a hand roughly through her hair, still looking like she was arguing with herself over it. "...Someone I thought couldn't show up here."

"This is the one who decided to decided to beat the crap out of you?"

He paused, wondering if he should push it further, or if doing so would make her retreat more.

"Do I get a name? A story?"

As expected, it did make her retreat, but she didn't leave. It only seemed to make her take another look at her surroundings, now that she was coming down off of that anger and other things keeping her afloat, and realize that she was still standing in his doorway with a wagon of plants.

This whole thing was ridiculous.

"...Can I get a drink or something?"

Well, that had to be worth something. That wasn't an outright 'no', after all. He walked further into the room, waving for her to follow, wishing up a bottle of something hard and strong. He felt it was needed at the time.

Two glasses appeared on the coffee table as he wordlessly sat on the couch, waiting for her to join him.

Following him in and nudging the door shut behind her, she parked the plants somewhere near the others, as if they would appreciate each others' company, and joined him on the couch.

She managed to make herself comfortable easily enough... but she still left just a bit more space between them than their usual.

Well, at least the space made it a little more comfortable. Or less comfortable. The demon hadn't decided yet. He filled both glasses and nudges one across the table towards her, before gesturing for her to continue.

She didn't hurry.

She sipped her drink and settled back, waiting for some sort of magic to happen to make that edginess back off of her. ...Unsurprisingly, it didn't happen. So, she sipped more of her drink, and let a few more moments pass for no real reason at all, aside from stalling.

"His name is Vicious."

...And that was as far as she got. She had more to say, but Vicious' name hanging in the air was enough to dispel it. It was like trying to explain a dream that could only make sense to the one who dreamt it.

Well. That got a raised eyebrow.

"...Appropriate name," he replied, sitting back.

Now was the time to plan how to stop this...Vicious from being a threat. Whatever he could do, Crowley was certain that unless he had some sort of holy powers, he wouldn't be an issue for him to deal with,

"What is he? Is he human?"

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