conatus: (but i am broken too)
remus. ([personal profile] conatus) wrote in [community profile] fafnir2017-03-23 10:17 pm

an awful noise filled the air

[it can take a lot out of you.

'can' being the key phrase here, because Remus stopped giving a shit several hundred years ago.

camp following was always a dirty, tiresome, bloody kind of business, which of course meant Illyrius couldn't send anyone but Remus out to do it. the man gets even the slightest whiff that another vampire might be trying to exert influence over the outcome of a battle— or even the vague feeling that some loner might be encroaching on his territory, well shit, Remus, get out of your gay baby jail, time to go Crusading.

and as much as he usually enjoys getting out and being around people who are just living life, the realities of war always sour that a little. there's no pretending that humans aren't bugs to be squashed when they fall in drove against each other, alive one night and dead in the killing fields the next. he should really just skip camp after the next battle and head somewhere more pleasant for a few months. it's not like anyone was going to miss a crusade camp prostitute.

poor Raymond least of all, having died in the sick tent barely an hour before. not that Remus had been there, but the doctor had told him, after asking politely, and left him alone there with only a little more prompting. in any case what harm could 'Lupa', a little slip of a girl, possibly do?

if someone happens to wander in, they might be able to catch the moment 'her' teeth grow into something animal and unkind, dark hair spilling over a slender shoulder as he leans in to feed off of the freshly dead soldier.]
crusadone: (ᴘᴀɴᴇᴍ ɴᴏsᴛʀᴜᴍ ᴄᴏᴛɪᴅɪᴀɴᴜᴍ)

[personal profile] crusadone 2017-03-24 07:12 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's, honestly, not the weirdest thing he's seen this week. It's weirder because Crowley recognizes Remus the second he steps into the tent and has him in his line of sight -- he's always liked Remus' hair, and it's an easy feature to focus on, and just as easy to remember. He stares for a second, several different thoughts flashing through his mind before he can even really focus on them. His stomach drops in a way that says that he might have been sick if he'd bother to eat, but between the travel he did from where his entire unit was slaughtered to here and the burden of seeing them all put to rest (they still had faith, even if he's wavering), he's had precious little time or energy for food.

His thoughts and his stomach still in tandem, when his body decides it's simply too tired to keep it up anymore. He's been mulling on god and existentialism for several days; he's been tired for just as long, because sleep is evasive when you hear the screams of your companions whenever you try to rest. He supposes that he'd thought it was a monster or a devil that had killed everyone; he supposes that it isn't too far out of the realm of possibility for Remus to be the same.

Crowley wonders what that says about him, that he's so easily tempted. ]

The skirt isn't really your color.

[ If he looks half as tired as he sounds, he must look like hell, but he's trying for the same light tone he always uses.

Like he isn't watching his relationship-status-complicated vore a dude in front of him. ]
crusadone: (ғɪᴀᴛ ᴠᴏʟᴜɴᴛᴀs ᴛᴜᴀ)

[personal profile] crusadone 2017-03-24 07:59 am (UTC)(link)
[ Crowley had thought he might have preferred to be dead, when everyone was slaughtered before him -- but he's second guessing that, now. He doesn't think Remus will kill him. He doesn't think Remus has any reason to. Crowley isn't a match for Jose, when he's this tired, much less someone like Remus. If Remus is even half as strong as the one who wiped out his unit ...


Crowley steps over to Remus. He's steady enough on his feet, for how much he looks like he's been dragged behind a horse for half a day; there's something vaguely like adrenaline kicking up, but even that response is dulled with his fatigue. He reaches out to drag a thumb across Remus' chin, wipe away the blood like it's nothing more than spilled porridge. ]

What are you?

[ It's a little blunt, but he's too tired to be polite, right now. If he can put a word to it, it might be easier to turn over in his head, to lay the thought to rest. ]

Other than masquerading as a prostitute.

[ He somehow really, really doubts that Remus puts out ... ]
crusadone: (ᴅᴀ ɴᴏʙɪs ʜᴏᴅɪᴇ;)

[personal profile] crusadone 2017-03-24 08:57 am (UTC)(link)
Something with teeth like those killed everyone I was fighting with.

[ He doesn't make a judgement on it, now; whether it was a devil or a monster or something else entirely. He doesn't make that judgement on Remus, even as he makes the decision that he wants to know.

Remus wasn't the one who killed his men, and the body he's feeding from looks like it died without Remus' intervention -- so Crowley doesn't judge. Isn't that the way things are meant to go, "judge not"? Ah, Crowley doesn't have a single stone to cast when he wears his rosary more like a noose, at the moment. ]

Even if I were capable of forgetting you, [ and his tone suggests that forgetting Remus in any capacity is, honestly, laughable, ] I wouldn't be able to forget that.

[ He won't be able to forget being the only one to live, even if it was just barely. His wounds are relatively minor, anyway -- it was the trauma of the situation that's the worst. He isn't as free of suspicion as he'd like, either, being the only one to survive, but he's been turning the other cheek rather fastidiously when it comes to all the whispers.

They'll pass; Crowley still has the support off too many powerful people for much whispering to happen for very long. ]
crusadone: (sɪᴄᴜᴛ ᴇs ɴᴏs ᴅɪᴍɪᴛᴛɪᴍᴜs)

[personal profile] crusadone 2017-03-24 06:53 pm (UTC)(link)
I don't know why it did. [ Wounded, but only lightly; Crowley was well enough to gather himself and crawl to safety, to get help, to load some of the bodies up himself. He had no explanations for anyone else at the time, either, because saying that the devil himself had appeared to rob the corpses of blood -- what would that do, but brand Crowley as a heretic? If his faith is wavering, he certainly isn't going to advertise the subject.

Crowley sends the body another long look. He's weighing all the options in his mind, but he's too tired now to try and revisit his thoughts on Remus. It's more effort than it's worth to try and figure out where he stands with God and Remus, and since at least one of them is standing before him right now, that's the only one he wants to think about in any capacity. ]

They're saying I was left for dead, but I can't imagine something that strong being stupid enough to forget that it didn't give me a lethal injury.

[ Just minor wounds, a concussion. His eyes focus properly now, at least, and most of the dried blood has flaked off.

Realities of the Crusades: not nearly enough baths. ]

It drained everyone else.
crusadone: (Default)

[personal profile] crusadone 2017-03-24 08:00 pm (UTC)(link)
I don't know. [ Crowley shrugs a shoulder up; there's an air of nonchalance about him, like he isn't quite acknowledging that he's on borrowed time. He knows he's a loose end that will be wrapped up eventually, but he also remembers how powerless he was against the enemy. He has the blood of humans on his hands, but all the infidels in the world aren't anything compared to fighting something with supernatural strength.

There's a wry smile on his lips when he speaks again, like he's recognizing what he says as a platitude in a way that he hadn't, before -- ]

Everyone has said that it's God's will that I lived, so there must be something important left for me to do.

[ If nothing else, he sincerely doubts Remus, of all people, will chastise him for a loss in faith. Personally, Crowley would be happy to be killed if he could just have a hot bath and a comfortable bed, but God hasn't provided him with either of those yet, so. ]
crusadone: (ᴇᴛ ᴅɪᴍɪᴛᴛᴇ ɴᴏʙɪs ᴅᴇʙɪᴛᴀ ɴᴏsᴛʀᴀ)

[personal profile] crusadone 2017-03-24 10:36 pm (UTC)(link)
[ There's something to be said here about following devils straight into hell, Crowley is fairly certain, but. Even back when Remus was just a temptation and not a straight out devil, Crowley bent his own rules. Now really isn't very different, is it? He can't tell if he feels more or less guilty, given the state of things.

He follows Remus, regardless; he came to the tent for medicine and sleep more than anything else, and it's sleep that he cares about the most ... he can get that anywhere. ]

Have I ever turned you down?

[ Even when he was the pinnacle of faith, he still liked Remus more than he should, okay.

He can't flirt effectively when he looks this much like shit, though. ]
crusadone: (sᴇᴅ ʟɪʙᴇʀᴀ ɴᴏs ᴀ ᴍᴀʟᴏ.)

[personal profile] crusadone 2017-03-25 04:27 am (UTC)(link)
I'm exhausted.

[ Honestly, Crowley should refuse for all sorts of reasons -- not least of which that he can only imagine the continued outrage if the only man left standing after his unit was slaughtered and drained of blood is then found sleeping with a prostitute -- but at the same time, he can't muster the energy to care.

At this point, God, the crusaders, and the vampire can all fight for who gets to kill him and claim his soul; he isn't sure who will win, anymore. (He's leaning towards the vampire.)

The tent is clean, but Crowley isn't. If Remus is going to let him get away with it, though, then he's going to sink down without even getting his armor off. He's been taking catnaps in it for days already. ]

I wanted to put as much distance between myself and the ... vampir? As I could.
crusadone: (Default)

[personal profile] crusadone 2017-03-25 06:00 pm (UTC)(link)
Mm. [ He's sure he smells like all sorts of shit, at this point, but the complaint is familiar and helps. It's soothing in the same way that just Remus' presence is soothing. Maybe it shouldn't be, given that Crowley was watching him lightly vore a corpse a few minutes ago, but. Crowley is proving more adaptable than he ever thought he could be.

He rests his head on Remus', because it's familiar, too. ]

Wake me up if someone comes to try to kill me.

[ Really, that's about it -- he could fall asleep riding a horse right now, he's so tired. All he needed was an ounce of safety and familiarity, and even with the blood and the skirts, Remus is still Remus, more or less.

Just like Crowley is probably still Crowley, even if his faith is wavering. ]
crusadone: (Default)

[personal profile] crusadone 2017-04-04 05:26 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The smell of blood is almost comforting, at this point, it's so familiar to Crowley. He doesn't wake up when Remus returns to bed, rouses only enough to roll over and wrap an arm around him, pull him close in an automatic protective embrace that's exactly the kind of thing you'd expect from someone like Crowley, really.

It's the sounds of the camp that finally make him wake up; even if it isn't his group of men, the sounds of everyone going about their business is too ingrained in him to sleep through. He sits up, leaving an arm braced against the bed roll as he stifles a slight yawn, and then glances down at Remus. ]

I'm impressed you let me sleep so long when I smell like an entire stable.

[ Is it inappropriate to think of the person you'd like to bang-- who you recently discovered was a vampire-- as a little prissy? Hm, but Crowley would think literally anything is endearing when Remus wears it.

Up to and including not being human, apparently. He's so fucked. He might also be refusing to deal with some mental trauma, at the moment, but. ]
crusadone: (ᴇᴛ ᴅɪᴍɪᴛᴛᴇ ɴᴏʙɪs ᴅᴇʙɪᴛᴀ ɴᴏsᴛʀᴀ)

rises from the fucking grave

[personal profile] crusadone 2017-05-14 03:45 am (UTC)(link)
[ Crowley hums, a considering noise at Remus' words, because even if they're true, the fact that Remus is letting Crowley get away with it says more than anything else. Crowley isn't used to getting free passes from Remus about anything, even under unusual circumstances. These might be even more unusual than the usual unusual, though, and he's hardly going to complain. ]

Likely still more comfortable than living in a tent. [ On the road, on the back of a horse... Crowley's ass is sore, honestly, and not for any fun reasons. Crowley lifts the blanket, just enough to peak in at Remus, to let a sliver of day into Remus' inner blanket sanctum. ]

Do you know if there's somewhere I could get clean?

[ Since Remus, at the moment, is a little more well-versed in the area than he is. ]
crusadone: (Default)

[personal profile] crusadone 2017-06-07 07:59 am (UTC)(link)
Is it? [ He's never noticed before -- but he supposes it makes sense, that Remus would take care to make sure that Crowley didn't notice something like that. The fact that Remus has let loose one of his weaknesses is ... awfully endearing, honestly; if Crowley weren't still on the verge of a complete emotional shutdown, he would probably feel warm and special inside.

As it is, he just smiles. ]
I'll be back soon, then, if more trouble doesn't find me.

[ He slips out, and -- thankfully -- whatever God may or may not exist in the heavens takes enough mercy on him to let him bathe in fucking peace, aside from meeting a very angry flock of geese who wanted nothing to do with him.

When he returns, he looks and smells quite a bit better, even if washing blood out from underneath his nails has left him -- a bit morose. ]

Are you still sleeping?
crusadone: (Default)

[personal profile] crusadone 2017-08-02 12:06 am (UTC)(link)
There's hefty penalties for raising false alarms. [ Crowley's tone is mild, but his meaning is easy to interpret: there's no monster here, as far as he's concerned. Remus is -- Remus, still, and the knowledge of what Remus could be is still too hard to reconcile.

Even if he could think of Remus and the vampire he met before in the same category, he wouldn't be able to muster much hostility. Turn the other cheek and all that... right? Does that apply to devils and demons and monsters? Ah, probably not, but Crowley feels like he's already damned enough that he may as well keep darkening his soul with the company he keeps.

He drops down next to Remus, tugging lightly on the blanket. Not enough to dislodge it; he puts about as much strength behind it as he does when he tugs on Remus' hair, whenever he can manage it. ]

You look like the statues of virgin Mary like that.

[ Mary was probably not a vampiric crossdresser, but who knows for sure. ]