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[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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