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[ 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.]

[ Snakes don't frighten her whatsoever. As a matter of fact, she was the few girls that would be catching them with boys as a little girl.

But knowing demons- no, Watchers possessed forms beyond that of a mortal's understanding lurking in the back of her mind seems to fit Crowley's transformation.

A humanoid form she could handle, it made her feel more at ease compared to the stories laid into her by Myrddin. The one mental image she had in her head was that of Watchers descending from the heavens as a mass of large eyes in some accounts had a little Gwenhwyfar bolting out of her bed and into Myrddin's from the nightmare.

It's an old fear that's conveniently brought back from memory and that, of course, instantly makes Gwenhwyfar start to panic.

After he said "don't panic" and when Gwenhwyfar starts to become anxious, it puts her more at risk. For a brief moment, she wonders if she's making the right choice. ]

Is that necessary?

[Her fear is immediately apparent, he doesn't even need to flick his tongue out to taste it thick in the air, and while he does want to reassure her, there isn't all that much he can do about it.]

Kind of, yeah. I'll need to have my full focus, don't want to get distracted keeping myself human.

[If she's reacting badly to the serpent, he can't imagine she'd enjoy seeing more of his true form peek through, which it's likely to do in this situation.]

M'not venomous, if that helps.

[Not right now, at least, but she doesn't need to know that.]

I don't fear snakes.

[ It's just an old childhood fear that decided to creep back up in her mind. And because of that, Gwenhwyfar takes it a step further and puts her hands on her face to cover her eyes.

Even if she has one eye. ]

I would catch adders when I was a little girl, so it is most definitely not that.

[Ah, he thinks he gets it.]

It's that I'm a demon, isn't it?

[It's easy to pretend that he's just a human who can do clever tricks, when he's shaped like one, but changing like this is a stark reminder of what he actually is, underneath the skin.

If a snake could sigh, he would, but he knows that this isn't going to work if she's terrified.]

Alright.

[He seems to melt back into his human shape, sitting on the floor at the edge of the circle, his wings emerging from between his shoulder blades, fanning out until the tips of them hit the walls.

He tips his head to the side, eyebrows raised in a silent is that better?]

Sorry.

[ She must sound childish, doesn't she? Ever self-conscious, Gwenhwyfar finally works up the courage to draw a hand from her face when the atmosphere changes and she's seeing glimpses of his wings.

This, on the other hand, isn't as frightening as the idea of Crowley manifesting into something beyond her mind, something so unfathomable as Myrddin had put it.

She shuffles a bit, her gaze down at her bare feet. (no, she can't be bothered to wear shoes, at all!) ]

I just... All I can think of is what my teacher used to say when I was little.

[ And that she's positive he would be furious with her for even doing any of this. ]

It gave me a lot of nightmares as a little girl.

[Crowley waves a hand to dismiss the apology; it's slightly frustrating, but taking that out on her isn't going to solve anything.]

Don't worry, you've not bruised my ego too badly, I already knew I wasn't especially pretty.

[The words are said lightly, with a wry grin, trying to diffuse the tension that's sunken into Gwenhwyfar, since that also won't help.]

Are the wings fine?

[She's seen them before without freaking out, so he figures it's probably okay, but it's usually safer to check with these things.]

[ She's about to apologize for apologizing, an old habit nearly coming back to life. It's Crowley's hand that stops her, settling Gwenhwyfar's nerves for now. She knows that her fear and anxiety will just make things worse and takes a moment to settle herself.

She nods softly. And once more affirming before she speaks, finally, now that she's able to catch her breath. ]

They don't bother me.

Alright, good. If I get a bit scale-y, try not to panic.

[He might be able to mostly keep it contained under his clothes if it comes to it, though hopefully all this preparation is just him being overcautious.]

Are we ready now?

[There's a hint of frustration in his voice, despite best efforts to keep it out. He's learned a lot more patience, during his time in Duplicity, but it only extends so far. He's just trying to remind himself that Gwenhwyfar is a child, even if she has a lot on her shoulders.]

[ Telling Gwenhwyfar not to panic may cause the opposite. But it's the hint of frustration that Gwenhwyfar notices and that may even cause her to overthink it. Despite hardening after everything she's been through and becoming a shadow of her old self, upsetting him upsets her.

And while Gwenhwyfar would like to be seen far from a child, she regresses to childish mannerisms of her old self, turning her gaze downward and to her hands, holding them close to her body, just as she would many, many times before ]

Sorry.

[ She felt awful for delaying him, shrinking into a timid display/ ]

I'm ready.

[Crowley makes a soft noise of acknowledgement, deciding not to get into a discussion about whether an apology is necessary. She reminds him so much of Agnes, sometimes, that it's difficult to swallow all the emotions tangled up in that, but he's nothing if not good at compartmentalizing.]

Get comfortable and pick a finger to wear the ring on, I'll get us started.

[He holds out his hands in front of him, cupped together as he summons a tiny bit of flame into his palms. It isn't quite Hellfire, what he's making, but he does murmur curses over the flame in a language that existed before time, imbuing it with before, before he opens his hands and sends sparks along the edge of the circle.

The flames aren't intense, resting on points across the circle like candles, without the need for wax or wicks. Once they're burning steadily, he looks back at Gwenhwyfar.]

Right, now, this shouldn't hurt, but it'll feel a bit odd, I imagine.

[As a warning, while he watches her to make sure she's handling it alright so far.]

Comfortable... right.

[ She could absolutely tell Crowley that Nephilims like her live in constant pain -- a dull pain that aches in their joints and the hunger that they possess is unbearable. She decides against it, keeping to herself and reminding herself while it might feel odd and she will feel absolutely vulnerable, Gwenhwyfar keeps thinking of her home, obligations, and, most of all, Arthur.

She couldn't be selfish or greedy, not as a queen. She was supposed to think of her king and her people, all of that mattered more than her extreme dislike of change. And as much as she would like to see the ritual, it still seems like she's betraying the only father figure she's known, the man that raised her and who would berate her for this.

She flinches as soon as she hears his voice, looking back to him, contemplating where to put it properly. ]

Uh, there is a certain finger to wear it, right? I can't wear it where my marriage ring is supposed to go.

[ She tries to remember, knowing that placing a ring on the wrong finger and returning home is disastrous. After a moment of wracking her brain, trying to remember, she chooses her right hand, her non-dominant, choosing her index finger, slipping it on without much thought so that she could internalize over appearing disloyal to her betrothed, later.

But it hits her, or rather, her body feels... off. Heavier. Her cheeks feel rosy, even holding a small hint of color as if it was Gwenhwyfar had mead. It's odd, and no surprise, Gwenhwyfar is not too thrilled about it. Everything feels dull and the colors around the room even look duller. Gone are the pleasant smells of her previous meal, and left with something bland.

It would take time to adjust to. ]

I feel like a rock in the bottom of a lake. [ That's the best way to describe it, as she sticks a foot out and shakes it. ]

[For all that Crowley has lived through all of human history, it doesn't necessarily mean that he's picked up on all the details, especially things that have changed over time. When she asks about marriage rings, he holds up his left hand to show the plain band that's around his ring finger, but he's not entirely sure it was always that finger, so he can't tell her for certain which one she shouldn't wear it on.

He'll let her choose, nodding when she settles on the right hand and letting out a relieved sigh when he feels the magic sinks in, washing over her, centered on the ring. It works, which is a relief, and she doesn't seem in any distress.]

That'll be it dulling your sense, gimme a sec.

[There's heavy magic in the circle, in the fires, in the ring, in Crowley. He pricks his finger on the edge of a fang, letting the blood well up so he can add another symbol to the edge of the circle, using it as a focus while he works on adjusting the curses woven into the ring.

Because that's what it essentially is, a curse laid into a ring, to drain her power. He manages to lessen the strength of it, just a tiny bit, to hopefully give her back more of her senses.]

How's that feel, now?

[ Gwenhwyfar gives a relieved sigh knowing that she's chosen the right finger to slip on a ring. And here she thought only women were the ones to wear rings -- at least, so far she's seen in her world.

As she flexes her hands, it's hard to tell at first. There have only been so many times she's dared to channel that part of her blood for obvious reasons. She knows that she doesn't know how to do it properly and is content with that.

Up until the point she's realized suppressing it has done more harm than good. But marriage rings and Myrddin aside, Gwenhwyfar closes her eye, digging deep in that part of her to test it. It's what she thinks is a pinch all the while her senses flood back to her. The most important ones of all: scent and hearing. ]

That's better. [ Little by little, she is relieved, bouncing on the balls of her bare feet. It will always be her insistence that she's mature enough to handle the weight of a queen's crown, but in this moment, she's almost child-like in her fears and worries. A better test, perhaps, is always Gwenhywfar's need to show her affection. She soon steps outside of the circle, encircling her arms around him to give him a hug. with a soft "thank you". ]

[Mostly, he's relieved that it works. While this place might not be on the same scale as Duplicity, it can still be dangerous, and leaving Gwenhwyfar without the full breadth of her senses would've worried him, a little.

He's also surprised at the hug, which really goes to show he hasn't been paying attention to how affectionate she can be, mostly because he tends to get in his own head about those sorts of things, assuming that people aren't going to be inclined to touch him. Especially not when Gwenhwyfar was terrified of him, a few moments ago.

Still, he wraps his arms around her in turn, gives her a gentle squeeze.]

Don't go telling anyone, hm? I don't want people knocking on my door thinking I'll help 'em with whatever nonsense they've got going on.

[He'll help her, obviously. But he's selective about the effort he puts into things.]

[ She can safely say, for once, she can hug someone without having to worry about crushing their rib cage.

And it feels wonderful... normal. Something that she's longed for, even as a small child, wanting to hug her mother and accidentally hurting her. ]

Of course not. You would be surprised many Nephilim share a common code. We do no harm to each other, we look out for one another, and we keep secrets. Half-blood or not, I would consider you to be a part of that.

[ Even better: Crowley isn't one of the insane ones who would break that code. ]

[Maybe in another few decades, he'll actually feel comfortable with the concept of hugging, but he's good enough at faking it.]

Does that mean I've got to stick to this code twice as much as you do?

[Since he's a full blooded demon.

It's a stupid joke.]

D'you want to sleep here the night? Aziraphale won't mind.

[He's not sure if she might be hesitant to be alone, now she's without her powers. Or if she might still be rattled. He's rubbish at all the emotional nonsense, but he can offer a safe place to rest, for whatever comfort it's worth.]

[ Jokes, on the other hand, she takes very literally. She steps back to think it over -- the elders who counseled younger half-bloods never mentioned anything about this. Nor did Myrddin.

But she is certain that-- ]

I don't think so, if another one of my kind heard of this, they would condemn me adding a full-blood to the code

[ But they give her a lot of grief anyway. And just as she is about to say she doesn't need much sleep, she does feel tired enough for it.

Odd. ]

Uh. So as long as... it's fine for a Nephilim like me to stay. I won't eat all of your food. Actually, some of those stories are a little flamboyant--

[ She'll stop before she goes off into a nervous tangent. ]

[Oh, bless...

He's reminded, fondly, of Aziraphale's inability to grasp sarcasm when they first met, and can't help looking a bit soft as Gwenhwyfar explains.]

We'll keep it between us, then.

[He knows she worries about these things, and if one of her friends ever does turn up, he doesn't want to get her into hot water with them.

He's halfway to lifting a hand to gesture for her to stop when she does of her own volition, saving him the trouble.]

Food's just food, there'll be more of whatever you eat. And of course you can stay, I'm not gonna kick you out 'cause of what you are.

[If he can marry an angel, he can deal with a Nephilim, especially when Gwenhwyfar's world is so different from his.]

Edited 2021-08-16 02:56 (UTC)

[ As hardened as she is, Gwenhwyfar is still impressionable. She nods quietly, stopping herself from fiddling with the ends of her hair -- a nervous tick that she manifests from time to time. ]

In that case, I don't need anything special. I can lie anywhere and sleep.

[ She would even lie down here and sleep like it's nothing. ]

We've got a spare bed, it'll be alright. C'mon.

[Operating on the assumption that she won't at all mind extended contact, Crowley puts an arm around her shoulders to guide her back into the kitchen. He can make her something else to eat, and introduce her to the wonders of television, and by the time they're done the room that was used for the ritual will have reverted to its original form as a guest bedroom.

It's hardly the worst way to spend an evening.]

[ A pause follows as Gwenhwyfar wonders when the last time she's slept in a bed. Should she be offered one... there is a strong likelihood he'll find her sleeping on the ground by morning.

It's an issue of comfort, something that made her feel secure when the times she was in hiding and felt safe. ]

... Alright.

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