09-10-2019, 05:53 AM
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Crowley isn't really sure what he's on about right now. Also, why the fuck are so many people swarming around him right now? He just has a wagon of plants.
Now, Crowley doesn't actually have any flowers in his wagon -- they're all houseplants, see. And maybe his demonic powers ... didn't exactly work just a minute ago, but he thinks that he'd seen a few flowers at the place he'd ... confiscated these ones from.
"I think perfume would be better for that. Flowers aren't my usual thing anyways," Crowley shrugs, all while he casually conjures* the flowers he'd seen to the wagon, underneath some of his other plants. Somewhat alarmingly, it actually works. He's not terribly fond of the way Image wilted after Mirror spoke. "But if Image wants them, he can have these," Crowley says, trying not to sound challenging and not succeeding terribly well. Crowley fishes the pot of flowers from the wagon, and fixes his gaze on Image. They aren't particularly strong-smelling flowers, but Crowley's pretty sure you couldn't cover the scent of rot with any flowers very well anyways.
*This is different than miracling. Crowley just doesn't realize yet.
This is most definitely not intended to be a kind act, regardless of how they respond. It's not. Crowley may not have an excuse, but since nobody here knows him well enough to press him about it, he doesn't need one anyways. Maybe he'll just have to go out and cause some chaos elsewhere to make up for it.
[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;"]Oh, it's the two-headed rotting fellow -- Mirrorimage? Mirrorimage, yeah. He can't imagine it's kind of rude to be thinking of them like that. Not that Crowley hasn't done that before, but he actually lives with these people now. Which could be said about hell, but also, it couldn't. Crowley was a field agent, he only went Downstairs a few times a decade at most.Crowley isn't really sure what he's on about right now. Also, why the fuck are so many people swarming around him right now? He just has a wagon of plants.
Now, Crowley doesn't actually have any flowers in his wagon -- they're all houseplants, see. And maybe his demonic powers ... didn't exactly work just a minute ago, but he thinks that he'd seen a few flowers at the place he'd ... confiscated these ones from.
"I think perfume would be better for that. Flowers aren't my usual thing anyways," Crowley shrugs, all while he casually conjures* the flowers he'd seen to the wagon, underneath some of his other plants. Somewhat alarmingly, it actually works. He's not terribly fond of the way Image wilted after Mirror spoke. "But if Image wants them, he can have these," Crowley says, trying not to sound challenging and not succeeding terribly well. Crowley fishes the pot of flowers from the wagon, and fixes his gaze on Image. They aren't particularly strong-smelling flowers, but Crowley's pretty sure you couldn't cover the scent of rot with any flowers very well anyways.
*This is different than miracling. Crowley just doesn't realize yet.
This is most definitely not intended to be a kind act, regardless of how they respond. It's not. Crowley may not have an excuse, but since nobody here knows him well enough to press him about it, he doesn't need one anyways. Maybe he'll just have to go out and cause some chaos elsewhere to make up for it.
[align=center]![[Image: ezgif-7-f3e523f182d0.gif]](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/463081660515221505/684393717838249984/ezgif-7-f3e523f182d0.gif)