demonicmiracle | (noctium) ic inbox

Don't have to tell me that, I'm bloody married to one of those types.

[That's slight bullshit; of the two of them, Crowley is more likely to get involved with some nonsense that ends in disaster, while Aziraphale is a little more cautious. But he's got a bigger heart than Crowley does, so it has to count for something.

Whatever Nikolai is will have to be a conversation for another time, since he feels like the rest of it is more important.]

Not sure you can have it both ways, love. If you'd not been what you are, the man you helped likely would've died, but... [He hums, deciding on his next words.] I think I've got it figured out, a way to bind you, like we talked about. Only if you want, though.

If it is any consolation, I will be married to one as well.

[ She assumes he says it in the most affectionate way possible, just as much as she is. For all of the idiotic things Arthur does, Gwenhwyfar will still love him. ]

Sometimes, I wish it wasn't like this. [ To be a half-demon and knowing her mother's involvement with that demon. ]

I don't really have a choice, Crowley. If I don't act now, I'll be repeating what that man has done. I cannot control myself.

[She doesn't strike him as the marrying type, partly because she seems so young to him, but he knows that the concept of things like young are different than they used to be.]

You want to come over? I'll see what I can do for you, and you can tell me all about this person you're going to marry.

[Sleepover!! Except with some slightly occult unpleasantness, most likely. He figures she might like the company, too.]

[ Coming over to a possibly painful procedure versus talking about Arthur? Gwenhwyfar is going to go with the former. ]

I, ah- I can. Very quickly.

[ With her superhuman sense of smell, always fun. ]

I'll be there.

[ She isn't going to leave him any time to clean up or whatever demons do to prep for wayward Nephilims crashing on their doorsteps. Gwenhwyfar hones in on his scent like a bloodhound, manifesting almost twenty minutes later. The blood on her dress? Thankfully, not hers. Poor Matt, that will leave a nasty scar.

Gwenhwyfar, looking feral as ever. ]

Safe travels.

[Jokes on her, twenty minutes is plenty of time for a quick miracle tidy and also to pop a couple of lamb sausages in a fry pan along with some eggs, so Gwenhwyfar will arrive to the front door halfway open and a plate of food on the table.

She sure is........ looking particularly feral. He'll take care of that dress in a minute.]

Eat first, then we'll get to work.

[Probably better for everyone if she's well fed before they try anything esoteric and potentially dangerous.]

Oh, thank the gods.

[ Contrary to what others may think about the girl that lived with a madman in the woods, Gwenhwyfar has superb table manners. Usually.

Though she goes with an easy perception of a feral animal when she brushes past Crowley, already going for meat rather than the eggs. What's sitting down? She doesn't know.

Like the Nephilim in the Book of Enoch, she's wolfing what she can down quickly. At least she doesn't talk with her mouth open! ]

Thank you.

[Crowley had the forethought to make himself a cup of coffee, giving him something to nurse as he watches Gwenhwyfar eat like she was raised by a pack of wild wolves. Not the worst table manners he's witnessed, sadly, especially when it's actual proper food and not like, Hastur chewing on someone's fingers in the middle of a meeting.

He wrinkles his nose at the gratitude, but that's just who he is as a person.]

If you're still hungry, I can cook up some more. Might have some bacon in the fridge, too.

[Does being a half-demon negate things like cholesterol? Maybe he should buy some lean meats for when he needs to feed Gwenhwyfar.]

[ It's truly a pain, having the need to eat more to compensate using any demonic abilities. Punching Nikolai clear off of Matt? That requires more meat than she cares to admit to compensate for the energy.

And, fortunately, cholesterol doesn't have any effect on her, not only for the fact she's a half-demon but also because she is still fairly young. She's slowing down now that she has both eggs and sausage in her stomach.

And the fact she's nearly done with all of it. ]

I don't want to be a bother-

[ And nor does Gwenhwyfar want to say that Crowley has basically given her a light snack, not a true, full meal. She hates her hunger. ]

Or, ah, make it uncomfortable for you.

[While not actually British, Crowley has lived in Britain long enough that he's easily able to translate I don't want to be a bother to it's true meaning, which is that it's a yes that doesn't want to be a yes.]

Isn't a bother. You want more of the same, or — [He holds up a finger in a 'wait' gesture, crossing to the fridge to have another rifle around inside.] Oh, there's a shepherd's pie in here, s'meat and veg and potato, y'want some of that?

[How old is it? It doesn't matter because Crowley refuses to allow food in his fridge to go bad, so it'll be as good as if it was freshly made. The perks of being a demon.]

Uhm.

[ Her mother has taught her superb Welsh manners, thank you very much! But she's never heard of a "potato". She stares. ]

Meat is preferable... what is a potato?

[ Sadly, she'll still eat it even if she's never heard of a potato. ]

Right, you're before all that. You'll love potatoes, they're a root vegetable, got loads of nutrients in 'em.

[Shout out to humans for solving the problem of 'it takes a lot of energy to find food' by inventing agriculture and the potato especially. Crowley isn't one for carbs but he can admit that the potato was a good call, in general.

Not once in his life has Crowley owned or used a microwave; he simply takes the pie dish out of the fridge, dishes up a decent sized serving for Gwenhwyfar, and sets it on the table. It's the perfect temperature, warm enough to eat without being so hot as to burn her mouth.]

Let me know how it is.

[Aziraphale always compliments the food he makes but he's biased on account of loving Crowley, so he likes to get unbiased opinions on his cooking sometimes.]

[ Gwenhwyfar is just going to take his word for it, realizing he has some sort of foresight that she doesn't have and what some can only dream of.

Insofar, it smells wonderful.

And perhaps she should sit down... it's just that Gwenhwyfar doesn't sit in the chair, she sits on the edge of a table, more like a cat than anyone remotely human. She does it without thinking about her comfort, only taming the ever-present hunger in her body when she eats it.

With more food in her stomach, she's eating it politely this time.

Like the royal she is. ]

It's delicious.

[ And more importantly, it's helping, a little. Like before, she eats it pretty quickly. ]

I hate this stupid hunger.

[If Crowley were to judge someone for choosing to sit on a surface other than a chair, it'd make him the universe's most ridiculous hypocrite. She's valid, and he respects her choices regardless of his own table related trauma.]

Thanks.

[He even smiles a bit, clearly pleased by the assessment. Sometimes even demons need validation for their hobbies.]

Yeah, can't imagine it's much fun. S'a bit easier here though, right? [With the abundance of food.] How's your manna, you getting by fine with all that business?

Not really. [ If anything, it was worse. ]

I had my friends that kept me grounded -- especially a woman, much like me. She's one of the few Nephilim with control over her blood.

[ And she was an absolute saint, many half-bloods looked up to her. ]

There are quite a few of us, you see, such as my teacher, Myrddin Wyllt. The older ones always know better ways on how to handle it. I felt safe with them.

[ While the humans she knows are nice, another Nephilim would understand her plight better than most. With the plate set aside, Gwenhwyfar purses her lips into a thin line, choosing to look elsewhere.

Discussing manna with Crowley almost feels like discussing her romantic life with an old, family member. It's only mildly embarrassing. ]

Uh, I... have no troubles with manna.

[Well! Now he feels kind of bad for assuming, but he can understand why it would be easier with other people like her around. Although ugh, Merlin.]

I'm sorry. That you're alone here.

[It's genuine, because he isn't quite sure what else to say to that. He seems to have managed to fumble his way through Gwenhwyfar's various emotions so far, but he's sure he'll fuck it up sooner or later.

Talking about Manna might do it. As much as he'd like to pretend she's generating it from simple affection, he's spent enough time in the city and around humans to know there's likely more going on.]

I know, uh — well, you've already figured out you can call me when you've been in a fight, but if you're ever in a shite situation for other reasons, you can get in touch. I'm not inclined to judge.

[This place isn't as bad as Duplicity, but he's run into aphros and other nonsense; he just wants Gwenhwyfar to be safe, and to know she can reach out to him if she needs help.]

[ At least Crowley gets it; she had said as much to Elidibus and he didn't quite comprehend it as Crowley did. More importantly, she can ignore his comment on manna.

No, she's not generating that platonically, but that's beside the point. ]

I know.

[ By now, Gwenhwyfar isn't as terrified of him as she once was. He is the closest thing to one of her own kind, part of the origins of what once roamed the earth as Watchers. ]

I'll do whatever I can to handle it. I gave up on regenerating my eye to stop myself from losing control. Nothing will hurt, I'm sure, not as much as that did.

[He'll take I know as the best answer he'll get and leave it there. Duplicity might have made it easy to have casual discussions about sex, by nature of how often it happened, but he knows not everyone's comfort level is the same.]

Right, well, I've got most of the magic tucked into a ring, but we'll have to... attune it to you, is the best description. Figure that way if you need your powers for any reason, y'can take the ring off.

[It's likely he could attempt to completely strip her of her powers, but he's worried about her being able to protect herself.]

[ It would be hard to imagine life without any of those abilities. Since the say she was born, she's had them. And if there is truly anything that could be said about Gwenhwyfar, drastic change makes her panic.

But at the moment, she can't think of anything useful, save for the basics. ]

And what about my senses?

[ She's an anxious person, she likes knowing when people are coming. ]

They'll likely be somewhat dulled. Not as useless as a human's, but I imagine it'll take some adjustment.

[This is why it's important that it's her choice, and not something that's done to her permanently. It would be cruel, to completely take that from her.]

[ She pauses to think about it. As silly as it is, she liked that aspect of her being. To feel, taste, hear, see, and smell things so differently that they were far more vibrant in the world than what a human could possibly imagine. ]

Mm.

[ Damn it, Geralt, it's becoming a habit. ]

Admittedly, I am not too pleased with the idea of them being dulled. It always gave me the upper hand when I fled my captors.

[ The fact she could smell and hear them before she saw them? It was always a plus. And even her senses weren't as intent as others, they were still stronger than humans. ]

I suppose I can try it -- I don't have much of a choice, do I?

[It's almost a shame this isn't Duplicity, that he couldn't take her to the Repair Shop and make a trade to lessen her hunger.]

Not much of a choice, no, but it's still a choice. I'll keep trying to refine it, see if I can't let you keep more of your senses, but this is what it is for now. It's your choice.

[He won't nudge her one way or another, in part because he couldn't say what's the better choice. He's used to dealing with the occasional unpleasant urge, and he wouldn't give up his senses for anything, though it's slightly different for him than it is for her.]

[ She would still argue that she has not much of a choice -- eventually, she will lose control. It's not as if the people she cares for have a choice, either. With that, Gwenhwyfar concedes, giving a small nod.

Almost like a reprimanded child. ]

Do you promise? I can wear it for now, in the meantime. I hope it doesn't sound silly or too trivial.

[A smart call not to argue on the topic of choices with the creature who had his entire identity ripped out of him for a choice he didn't even realize he was making.]

Doesn't sound silly at all, and I promise I'll keep working on it.

[He sets down his empty coffee mug, and gestures towards the spare bedroom, although it's currently lacking a bed, since Crowley started using the space for his work.

Instead, there's a series of occult symbols drawn on the floor in a circle, with a plain platinum ring waiting in the center.]

You ready?

Edited 2021-06-04 01:46 (UTC)

[ Gwenhwyfar can't help but look down at the symbols at her (bare) feet. It can't be helped, takes a mental note of them, wondering if they're at all, similar to the dark magic Myrddin had spoken of. A magic that came from the far east and said to come from a king that enslaved 42 demons at his temple.

She doesn't want to linger too long, knowing Crowley has his husband. ]

Not really, but... I'll do it, anyway.

[With a thought, Crowley cleans and repairs Gwenhwyfar's damaged and bloodied clothes, assuming she might be more comfortable that way.]

Sit in the center and pop the ring on whatever finger you'd like. It'll fit.

[That's the advantage of something with magic and expectation woven into it, there's no need to worry about sizing.]

I'm going to change, s'easier this way. Don't panic.

[Shifting is a simple process, he just melds into the shape of the serpent, dropping down to the floor. He's large enough to circle the room twice, outside the chalk, resting his head on his own body and watching Gwenhwyfar with an unblinking gaze.

He'll give her a second to adjust, before doing more.]

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