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it boils on the hoizon, clouds rolling over themsleves, crackling with thunder. The air itself is alive, a siren call to crowley of something long forgotten and lost, like the smell of paint o a man too feeble to lift a brush, to poorsited to see his own creations. his hands ache on these days, muscles remmebering things the mind long ago forgot. the choas of the storms call him with a song sweeter than honey, only ever overshadowed by the ozone and ink that comes to his side each time. he could let hte storm drive him to madness if he so wished, anchored ony in place by the shelter that provides itself each time.
creation and destoruction are two words for the same thing, torn apart in a fit and assigned to two differnet sides. ehterrial and occult. yet both lost the means to do either word justtice once huamns came along, their imaginations pushing the words to their limits and overshadowing anything outside of the Almightey themself. the rain will come in and the humans wll cry out and curse the clouds for hte havok they will leave, but crowely never lost his ability to see live that srung up in it wake. old buildings torn away to give room for new, grass and bugs and other tiny life sprining forth to flurish in the crakes newly created. with the rain, old trees regain their strantgh and life bounces back stonger than efore.
it took him a long to time get azirpahle to see it - the lesson not truely sinking in until they both where drowining their sorrows at hte humans drowned efore them. the angel had not allowe dhimself to weep on hte boat, had remained sotic int he face of crowley's accusations and the pleas of the huamn who'd been quick to cast desistion ont he chosen fmaily.
but now - on the watterlogged shores, barrena dn stipped as far as the eye could see, the angel finally broke. corlwey stayed his tounge, casusuoinsly mimicing the shelter once given to him, and shaded hte angel fromt he harsh sun above, blocking his tears from view. once tears ran out, the two sat in silance, watching the earth dry unter their toes.
"the water brought a lot of good nutrients to the soil," crawly says finally, turnign the fist ful of dirt oer in his palm, "it might have been alot of death, but ther's life in that too. Noah will get good crops off this land - and things will grow fast and stong. the birds have already been herer before us - they've been dropping seeds everywhere like mad. it'll be green again before we even know it." he showed off a tiny little plat start that was in the soil, before carefully replacing it - it wasn't yet reayd for the world above, but soon.
he stand before the new storm now - winds stating to buffet hum, and resiss the urge to take flight. he neednt ave, azirpahle nudges him softly, wings already out. "flying or watching today dear?"
creation and destoruction are two words for the same thing, torn apart in a fit and assigned to two differnet sides. ehterrial and occult. yet both lost the means to do either word justtice once huamns came along, their imaginations pushing the words to their limits and overshadowing anything outside of the Almightey themself. the rain will come in and the humans wll cry out and curse the clouds for hte havok they will leave, but crowely never lost his ability to see live that srung up in it wake. old buildings torn away to give room for new, grass and bugs and other tiny life sprining forth to flurish in the crakes newly created. with the rain, old trees regain their strantgh and life bounces back stonger than efore.
it took him a long to time get azirpahle to see it - the lesson not truely sinking in until they both where drowining their sorrows at hte humans drowned efore them. the angel had not allowe dhimself to weep on hte boat, had remained sotic int he face of crowley's accusations and the pleas of the huamn who'd been quick to cast desistion ont he chosen fmaily.
but now - on the watterlogged shores, barrena dn stipped as far as the eye could see, the angel finally broke. corlwey stayed his tounge, casusuoinsly mimicing the shelter once given to him, and shaded hte angel fromt he harsh sun above, blocking his tears from view. once tears ran out, the two sat in silance, watching the earth dry unter their toes.
"the water brought a lot of good nutrients to the soil," crawly says finally, turnign the fist ful of dirt oer in his palm, "it might have been alot of death, but ther's life in that too. Noah will get good crops off this land - and things will grow fast and stong. the birds have already been herer before us - they've been dropping seeds everywhere like mad. it'll be green again before we even know it." he showed off a tiny little plat start that was in the soil, before carefully replacing it - it wasn't yet reayd for the world above, but soon.
he stand before the new storm now - winds stating to buffet hum, and resiss the urge to take flight. he neednt ave, azirpahle nudges him softly, wings already out. "flying or watching today dear?"
