Log: ‘Are we quite done with our little outburst?’
Who: Crowley Downwardsaunter and Luke bane_archetype
When: Today, after this
Where: Mayfair
What: Crowley getting Luke to calm down in his usual no-frills manner.
Why: Luke needed it.
After the loud crashing and screaming form Luke's room, it took Crowley about three seconds to act. Two of those seconds involved making sure Linda was alright, and the other one involved him barging into Luke's room. He didn't care if the door was locked or not, those things never bothered him. Snakeskin boots trod on broken bits of glass as he frowned at the mess, the room restoring itself with a thought. "Kid?"
Luke dropped his hands, moving from a kneel to a crouch and glancing over his shoulder at Crowley, his black eyes piercing and cold.
"Oh boy, I was afraid this would happen," the demon sighed, walking over, glancing down at him. "Had a feeling you were going this way after that poet rant of yours."
"Go away."
"It's my flat," said Crowley calmly.
Luke narrowed his eyes and the computer monitor flew at Crowley.
Crowley held out his hand, the monitor floating in mid air. "You can keep throwing stuff at me until you tire out, or you can quit now, your choice."
"You forgot the third option," he ground out.
Crowley arched a brow behind his sunglasses. "And what would that be?"
"I leave," Luke replied, standing.
"Yeah, that third option?" the door closed behind Crowley. "Not actually an option."
"You can't keep me here.”
Crowley smiled like only a snake can. "Want to bet?"
A chair flew at Crowley as Luke lunged at him, a feral snarl on his lips.
Crowley snapped his fingers, the chair vanishing as he quietly sidestepped Luke. "Kid, you're new to this demon gig, I've been at it for over six millennia, you haven't got a chance."
"I don't care."
"No, I guess you don't," said Crowley with a shrug. "Hell does tend to do that to you. But you're not in Hell anymore, you're on Earth, and you're going to have to start acting like it."
"It's too bright here, I don't like it. Too nice." Luke crossed his arms, clawing at one a bit as he did so, glaring.
"Yeah, but it's better than Down There," muttered Crowley, watching Luke. "You've got to get a handle on this kid, before it eats you up."
"Fifty eight, not quite three, four percent fighting killing bright surviving, ninety-six percent screaming too quiet too loud...."
".....Right," said Crowley after a moment. "You've spent time in Hell. I'm very aware at how unpleasant that is, you should try being dumped there when you're fresh out of Heaven." He lowed his sunglasses, watching Luke calmly. "You have to get control, or you'll alert Up There and they are not merciful."
"It's all lies and platitudes, shining faces whitewashed tombs." He clawed at his shoulder, where a hook had pierced him the majority of his 'life'.
"Yeah, see, this is crazy talk," said Crowley, folding his arms. "What is it, kid? You want to go back? I can't imagine anyone missing it."
"Up There are liars just as much as Down There. They're all the same," Luke growled fiercely. "Too bright, burning, I hate it all, there, here, everywhere, none of it all of it... I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!" He threw his arms in the air, then dropped them into white-knuckled fists at his sides.
"Are we quite done with our little outburst?" asked Crowley calmly, examining his fingernails. "You've got to get used to it, Kid. Either way, you're stuck here for a while. So, you calm down or you end up being a danger to everyone around you. Do you want that?"
"No," he muttered.
"I thought not," said Crowley, considering for a moment, before miracling up a pair of sunglasses, handing them to Luke. "This'll help with your bright issue."
"Thanks," he replied quietly, putting them on.
"Not a problem," said Crowley. "As for the rest of it, I don't know. Buy an Ipod or something. You've got to learn to block it out."
Luke raised an eyebrow above the sunglasses, "I could always get sedatives."
"You could, but you wouldn't be teaching yourself anything, then, would you?" asked the Serpent. "Besides, this isn't the kind of thing that gets blocked by something as mild as sedatives."
"How did you do it then," Luke sneered.
"I didn't have any humanity to begin with," Crowley pointed out. "That's the major difference. It takes time."
"Anyone else make it?" it seemed as though Luke was pulling himself together again by sheer force of stubborn will.
"What? Out of Hell?" Crowley sighed. "A small few. They did it mostly in Ancient Greece, kinda tapered off after that."
"How'd they survive?"
"Well, a few went nuts and killed a lot of people, another few curled into balls and rocked a whole lot, a few more started talking to inanimate objects," Crowley listed off on his fingers. "The ones that survived properly were the ones that sucked it up and took control of the...whatever it is that Hell puts in you."
"Give me names, I want to do research."
Crowley arched a brow, before sighing. "Alright. Letseee.." he thought. "There was Hercules, or whatever he called himself, he did it. I also nicked Cerberus. Then there was Dante, of course. He went and wrote a poem about it all."
Luke went over to the repaired desk, calling a pen to hand, and started jotting the names down.
"Then there was Theseus, he got out. Hmm, suppose Orpheus counts too, in a way, though he was never really held there," Crowley watched him. "They're really old stories, you'll have to do a lot of research."
"'ll give me something to do," Luke replied, clearing his throat a moment and chewing on the base of his thumb in thought.
"Yeah...that's good. Finding things to do," said Crowley, watching him. "Focus on other things."
"That's what I'm gonna do, then," Luke nodded firmly, tamping all the panicangerhate down deep.
"Good lad," said Crowley. "You feeling less likely to smash things now?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Alright then." Luke's computer monitor floated back to the desk, the chair re-materialising.
"Hn." Luke finished writing notes on what he could find in his encyclopaedic memory.
"Right, I'll leave you to your brooding and researching, then," said Crowley, heading for the door. "Just don't throw stuff at me again. It's irritating."
"Sure."
Crowley eyes him a moment, before stepping out of the room, closing the door behind him.
When: Today, after this
Where: Mayfair
What: Crowley getting Luke to calm down in his usual no-frills manner.
Why: Luke needed it.
After the loud crashing and screaming form Luke's room, it took Crowley about three seconds to act. Two of those seconds involved making sure Linda was alright, and the other one involved him barging into Luke's room. He didn't care if the door was locked or not, those things never bothered him. Snakeskin boots trod on broken bits of glass as he frowned at the mess, the room restoring itself with a thought. "Kid?"
Luke dropped his hands, moving from a kneel to a crouch and glancing over his shoulder at Crowley, his black eyes piercing and cold.
"Oh boy, I was afraid this would happen," the demon sighed, walking over, glancing down at him. "Had a feeling you were going this way after that poet rant of yours."
"Go away."
"It's my flat," said Crowley calmly.
Luke narrowed his eyes and the computer monitor flew at Crowley.
Crowley held out his hand, the monitor floating in mid air. "You can keep throwing stuff at me until you tire out, or you can quit now, your choice."
"You forgot the third option," he ground out.
Crowley arched a brow behind his sunglasses. "And what would that be?"
"I leave," Luke replied, standing.
"Yeah, that third option?" the door closed behind Crowley. "Not actually an option."
"You can't keep me here.”
Crowley smiled like only a snake can. "Want to bet?"
A chair flew at Crowley as Luke lunged at him, a feral snarl on his lips.
Crowley snapped his fingers, the chair vanishing as he quietly sidestepped Luke. "Kid, you're new to this demon gig, I've been at it for over six millennia, you haven't got a chance."
"I don't care."
"No, I guess you don't," said Crowley with a shrug. "Hell does tend to do that to you. But you're not in Hell anymore, you're on Earth, and you're going to have to start acting like it."
"It's too bright here, I don't like it. Too nice." Luke crossed his arms, clawing at one a bit as he did so, glaring.
"Yeah, but it's better than Down There," muttered Crowley, watching Luke. "You've got to get a handle on this kid, before it eats you up."
"Fifty eight, not quite three, four percent fighting killing bright surviving, ninety-six percent screaming too quiet too loud...."
".....Right," said Crowley after a moment. "You've spent time in Hell. I'm very aware at how unpleasant that is, you should try being dumped there when you're fresh out of Heaven." He lowed his sunglasses, watching Luke calmly. "You have to get control, or you'll alert Up There and they are not merciful."
"It's all lies and platitudes, shining faces whitewashed tombs." He clawed at his shoulder, where a hook had pierced him the majority of his 'life'.
"Yeah, see, this is crazy talk," said Crowley, folding his arms. "What is it, kid? You want to go back? I can't imagine anyone missing it."
"Up There are liars just as much as Down There. They're all the same," Luke growled fiercely. "Too bright, burning, I hate it all, there, here, everywhere, none of it all of it... I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!" He threw his arms in the air, then dropped them into white-knuckled fists at his sides.
"Are we quite done with our little outburst?" asked Crowley calmly, examining his fingernails. "You've got to get used to it, Kid. Either way, you're stuck here for a while. So, you calm down or you end up being a danger to everyone around you. Do you want that?"
"No," he muttered.
"I thought not," said Crowley, considering for a moment, before miracling up a pair of sunglasses, handing them to Luke. "This'll help with your bright issue."
"Thanks," he replied quietly, putting them on.
"Not a problem," said Crowley. "As for the rest of it, I don't know. Buy an Ipod or something. You've got to learn to block it out."
Luke raised an eyebrow above the sunglasses, "I could always get sedatives."
"You could, but you wouldn't be teaching yourself anything, then, would you?" asked the Serpent. "Besides, this isn't the kind of thing that gets blocked by something as mild as sedatives."
"How did you do it then," Luke sneered.
"I didn't have any humanity to begin with," Crowley pointed out. "That's the major difference. It takes time."
"Anyone else make it?" it seemed as though Luke was pulling himself together again by sheer force of stubborn will.
"What? Out of Hell?" Crowley sighed. "A small few. They did it mostly in Ancient Greece, kinda tapered off after that."
"How'd they survive?"
"Well, a few went nuts and killed a lot of people, another few curled into balls and rocked a whole lot, a few more started talking to inanimate objects," Crowley listed off on his fingers. "The ones that survived properly were the ones that sucked it up and took control of the...whatever it is that Hell puts in you."
"Give me names, I want to do research."
Crowley arched a brow, before sighing. "Alright. Letseee.." he thought. "There was Hercules, or whatever he called himself, he did it. I also nicked Cerberus. Then there was Dante, of course. He went and wrote a poem about it all."
Luke went over to the repaired desk, calling a pen to hand, and started jotting the names down.
"Then there was Theseus, he got out. Hmm, suppose Orpheus counts too, in a way, though he was never really held there," Crowley watched him. "They're really old stories, you'll have to do a lot of research."
"'ll give me something to do," Luke replied, clearing his throat a moment and chewing on the base of his thumb in thought.
"Yeah...that's good. Finding things to do," said Crowley, watching him. "Focus on other things."
"That's what I'm gonna do, then," Luke nodded firmly, tamping all the panicangerhate down deep.
"Good lad," said Crowley. "You feeling less likely to smash things now?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Alright then." Luke's computer monitor floated back to the desk, the chair re-materialising.
"Hn." Luke finished writing notes on what he could find in his encyclopaedic memory.
"Right, I'll leave you to your brooding and researching, then," said Crowley, heading for the door. "Just don't throw stuff at me again. It's irritating."
"Sure."
Crowley eyes him a moment, before stepping out of the room, closing the door behind him.