KARMA - crowley

[cortexx]

There weren't any books underwater.

The pages and the ink couldn't survive getting wet, after all, much less being fully submerged and likely moved around a lot. On top of that, there was no reason to read them - sirens weren't exactly the most cultured beings, despite their supposed beauty.

But this place, this was true beauty, she realized.

There were so many books here, towering far above her, in tongues she could never understand, words that she could never hear to repeat - and words that she couldn't read. It took her only flipping one of them open to remember that. A bright red book with a golden text on the cover sat before her, laying open to a page in the middle, where she stared at it, almost defiantly. Tell me your secrets, her eyes said, passionate and furious as any sea creature should be. Give me your words, book, so that I might speak them.

The book was, unfortunately, being obstinate in the whole being legible thing. She let out a strained huff, which sounded more like a harsh cough than anything, and flipped it back closed with her forepaw. It could keep its secrets. She could live without those words in her head.

She lived this long without them, she could survive this putrid swamp, as well.

tags - "speech"

[arcy]

[align=center]

[glow=#000,1,400]all you've ever done is been a noose to hang on to — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]

[div style="width: 480px; height: auto; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 13px;"]Crowley, as a general rule, does not read books.
You would be tempted to chalk this up to his nature*. As much as Crowley would encourage you to assume so, this is untrue. The simple truth is that -- he can't read. He's not illiterate, but focusing his eyes on the words is hard, and makes his head hurt.
This is, of course, a well-kept secret.
*as a person, not a demon
This said, one can't be sure why Crowley is in the library. Perched on the shelves, picking through the books. Occasionally he'd accidentally knock down a few with his wings, or conspicuously move some to the top shelves and hide the ladder.
He'd never disrespected books in such a manner. How thrilling.
"Having troubles?" He hadn't realized anyone was in here. He'd almost knocked some books down where she could see him -- as well and good as this is, Crowley feels guilty enough about his book crimes, not that he'll admit to it. With a ruffle of his wings, Crowley leaps down from the high shelf. It's not a particularly graceful leap -- Crowley's wings work rather strangely, unfortunately, but, ever-faithful, they still kind of catch him. He stumbles as he lands. "Books are rather difficult to pick up -- 'specially since I'm not sure you can keep books underwater," He says, tucking his wings back in. He grins crookedly at her -- he's still not sure how they're supposed to be communicating with her, but that's fine. It'll be a learned skill. .. Not that Crowley will be bothering, of course. Definitely. "Can't say I saw the point myself," He boldfaced lies, peering at the cover. Crowley determinedly learns everything about Aziraphale's interests, unfortunately. And Crowley wil never, ever admit it, if he can help it.
Listen, he can admit a lot of things to himself, but he'll never say them out loud.

[cortexx]

She had heard the books falling, yes, but she hadn't really considered someone else being in here. For some reason. Her typical sea-based paranoia (the kind that comes from expecting death from every angle) had taken a back seat to trying to parse the letters, even as they fidgeted, changing every time she blinked. When Crowley spoke, she seemed to jump, swinging her head to him in a lot of alarm, the world suddenly zooming back into focus. She let someone sneak up on her so easily - she needed to keep her guard up. These people seemed nice so far, but she had a generally ominous vibe about the place. As an ex-siren, she would know about luring people, after all.

Her head cocked, she stared at the slinky man expectantly. Why yes, Crowley, she might say, I am having troubles, could you teach me to read? But alas, her throat was empty. Especially bothersome was the fact she wanted to know what he was. She had seen some of the white seabirds in her life, and he reminded her of them, flapping sort of haphazardly, like he wasn't fully in control. Maybe those birds were just drunk, though - the sailors they hung around tended to be, as well.

She looked around her, looking at some of the messed up books, and looking at all of the total lack of other culprits that could have committed such a... crime? Such a misdemeanor. She decided to ignore his first question (yes, Crowley, I do have my share of woes) and go straight for the throat, like her mother taught her. He had said something very convenient for this, indeed.

"Books are rather difficult to pick up," she taunted him with his own voice, gesturing at a small pile of books, hoping that the identical tone in which she said his words would still convey her mocking intent. If not, he'd at least keep talking, and she oh so loved to learn things.

tags - "speech"

[arcy]

[align=center]

[glow=#000,1,400]all you've ever done is been a noose to hang on to — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]

[div style="width: 480px; height: auto; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 13px;"]To be fair, a lot of people were jumpy when they first arrived here. Crowley included -- not that he'd ever admit to it. The people were strange, and it just looked like somewhere that would be haunted. And, technically it was -- it was a hotspot for supernatural creatures, jarringly enough.
This is besides the point. Catching her expectant look, Crowley frowns. Theatrically, he looks away, feigning exasperation. He can't help her -- it'd be an absolute disaster. "Don't look at me," He huffs, tail twitching. "If nobody else will help you, I'm sure there's some audiobooks somewhere," Crowley, personally, doesn't know where they are. He has been resisting the urge to look. He has a reputation to think of -- not much of one, considering that people don't seem to mind his presence, but he's sure he still has something.*
*presumably, he does not.
Upon Echo .. echoing him, Crowley cannot help but squawk in dismay. His book crimes weren't supposed to be acknowledged. Mingled with this, however, is a sense of delight. He grins sharply, and decides to disregard the book part of this all. It's fine. Aziraphale will never know. "Well, what's better than wreaking some minor havoc?" This is a wild exaggeration, and Crowley clearly knows it. "'S not like the books are damaged," He shrugs. He'd ensured that much, though it was harder without the use of miracles.