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mekachu04The worse part is, Aziraphale's here. Somewhere. But Crowley has no idea where to start looking. The white halls and stone pillars stretch out as far as his senses can reach, and the feeling of his friend gets no stronger or weaker in any direction he turns.
It's only the manged discarded corporation of Micheal on the floor that orientates him at all - a feat he is assuredly going to freak out about later, but there is no time for that now.
He can't even get a sense if this is even the correct part of heaven Aziraphale has been hidden away in; he has no idea if he's even looking in the right place.
He uses the archangel as a marker for how far he goes, looking at floor and ceiling for any hint of what he's searching for, testing the space between every pillar for a hint of a hidden tear that Aziraphale may have been pushed through.
it all feels the same, and Crowley rages - rages or he would cry - as his search spirals him farther and farther away with no change.
The longer he spends looking the sooner he will get found out - Micheal wouldn't go quietly, the archangel no doubt in some far corner of paradise raising an army of some kind to destroy Crowley in retaliation. but each heart beat offers no clues to his search, and he's away that his breathing is hitching towards hysterical.
Still no Aziraphale. still no clues or hints, and he's gotten to far, and he's so close, he knows - HE KNOWS this is the right place even if nothing he finds can corroborate the feeling.
He feels ill, stomach churning - if he'd eaten anything this month it would no doubt had made a reappearance - his head spinning, and he going to die here. the archangels are going to obliterate him, and he's failed, and he can't save Aziraphale, and there's not enough time, and any moment now they're going to storm the hall, and.. ()
and...
and.
He freezes, heart and breath stopping, listening to the room.
there's nothing.
at all.
the angels should have swarmed him by now. its taken too long. time might be funny when you leave earth, but this is the pale...
he stalks back to Micheal, forcing himself to look at the damage he inflicted on the mortal vessel.
the blood hasn't even begun to pool yet. Her vessel hasn't even finished falling, head still caught a hands breath from the clean polished tile of heaven's floor.
Time hasn't just gone funny, it's stopped completely.
Crowley scrambles away, terror leaching into his bones.
he doesn't understand. very few things fill him with the terror of not knowing what's going on, and he looks across the cold white open air, looking for ... anything...
he didn't do this. he didn't stop time. so something else did. something else is here in the empty place with him.
it's not the other angels he has to worry about, he realizes. because whatever it is... it's already here.
[[Crowley knows the dangers of playing with time - not just the power needed for such a feat - but that as dangerous as slowing time is, stopping it altogether is extremely dangerous. time is a force more powerful and inevitable than death, and also one as meaningless and inconsequential as (???) But it must move forward. Crowley isn't even completely sure the Almighty can combat time.
But it's not just that time must march forward as so much as that during its ever eternal march... things has come into existence that live in the spaces between beats. Crowley has only encountered them in stories of those who managed to survive long enough to rejoin time, but there are things that exist there solely to feed on what tries to escape (time's) march.]] [cut all of htis]
there is something lurking in the bright pure void of heaven. something powerful and all consuming, and it's looking for Crowley.
no.. it's looking at Crowley.
it's like every pillar are eyes, staring accusedly at him, sneering down at him in [judgement, but desperation].
It's only the manged discarded corporation of Micheal on the floor that orientates him at all - a feat he is assuredly going to freak out about later, but there is no time for that now.
He can't even get a sense if this is even the correct part of heaven Aziraphale has been hidden away in; he has no idea if he's even looking in the right place.
He uses the archangel as a marker for how far he goes, looking at floor and ceiling for any hint of what he's searching for, testing the space between every pillar for a hint of a hidden tear that Aziraphale may have been pushed through.
it all feels the same, and Crowley rages - rages or he would cry - as his search spirals him farther and farther away with no change.
The longer he spends looking the sooner he will get found out - Micheal wouldn't go quietly, the archangel no doubt in some far corner of paradise raising an army of some kind to destroy Crowley in retaliation. but each heart beat offers no clues to his search, and he's away that his breathing is hitching towards hysterical.
Still no Aziraphale. still no clues or hints, and he's gotten to far, and he's so close, he knows - HE KNOWS this is the right place even if nothing he finds can corroborate the feeling.
He feels ill, stomach churning - if he'd eaten anything this month it would no doubt had made a reappearance - his head spinning, and he going to die here. the archangels are going to obliterate him, and he's failed, and he can't save Aziraphale, and there's not enough time, and any moment now they're going to storm the hall, and.. ()
and...
and.
He freezes, heart and breath stopping, listening to the room.
there's nothing.
at all.
the angels should have swarmed him by now. its taken too long. time might be funny when you leave earth, but this is the pale...
he stalks back to Micheal, forcing himself to look at the damage he inflicted on the mortal vessel.
the blood hasn't even begun to pool yet. Her vessel hasn't even finished falling, head still caught a hands breath from the clean polished tile of heaven's floor.
Time hasn't just gone funny, it's stopped completely.
Crowley scrambles away, terror leaching into his bones.
he doesn't understand. very few things fill him with the terror of not knowing what's going on, and he looks across the cold white open air, looking for ... anything...
he didn't do this. he didn't stop time. so something else did. something else is here in the empty place with him.
it's not the other angels he has to worry about, he realizes. because whatever it is... it's already here.
[[Crowley knows the dangers of playing with time - not just the power needed for such a feat - but that as dangerous as slowing time is, stopping it altogether is extremely dangerous. time is a force more powerful and inevitable than death, and also one as meaningless and inconsequential as (???) But it must move forward. Crowley isn't even completely sure the Almighty can combat time.
But it's not just that time must march forward as so much as that during its ever eternal march... things has come into existence that live in the spaces between beats. Crowley has only encountered them in stories of those who managed to survive long enough to rejoin time, but there are things that exist there solely to feed on what tries to escape (time's) march.]] [cut all of htis]
there is something lurking in the bright pure void of heaven. something powerful and all consuming, and it's looking for Crowley.
no.. it's looking at Crowley.
it's like every pillar are eyes, staring accusedly at him, sneering down at him in [judgement, but desperation].
