11-23-2019, 03:46 PM
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To be entirely honest, Crowley hadn't even actively registered Aurum's hovering and worrying. He might've been too busy being comfortable -- it was hard to feel unsafe in the presence of somebody who fucking destroyed two of Hell's Dukes and called it lenient. He probably wouldn't have even minded staying close to Aurum, but it seemed -- clingy and weak. These weren't exactly words Crowley felt like associating with himself*, so he just kind of ... didn't. Regardless of what Crowley may say, or could have done, though, it wouldn't have ensured that this outcome would not come.
*Though, if asked, Crowley would probably very reluctantly call himself so.
Didn't mean the parts of Crowley that weren't too busy being agonized weren't cursing himself out, though.
Crowley's response to Aurum's calls are slowed, delayed. It takes him a few moments to register that somebody is talking at all, though his ears slowly prick up. Aurum? He struggles to return to himself, to fully understand what the hell is going on. He does, however, slowly relax into Aurum's touch as the other drapes a wing over him -- it's hard to worry about appearances and physical affection when you're too distracted by .. everything else.
The realization that Aurum is panicking comes slowly, particularly since it'd been .. fine, at first. Actually registering the words comes slower. The lion's flow of words had previously been a balm for the haze of pain and panic -- things couldn't be so bad when Aurum was there -- but then, upon registering that something was still very wrong, Crowley desperately tried to figure out how to rectify this with so little space left for higher brain function. Fortunately, Crowley isn't so out of it he can't. He's not fucking .. bleeding out, or getting so lost to the miniscule amount of heavenly power that he can't. It just hurts.
"Mm not ffucking .." Crowley wheezes, gasping. Crowley, quite frankly, has no idea what the hell to do with anything Aurum is saying. He is, however, working on limited time to respond based on how long he feels up to being conscious, and also a limited amount of time before Aurum, presumably, works himself up even further. So, he focuses on the important thing. This is probably for the better. Chances are that, Crowley, unprepared and as overwhelmed as he already was, would probably just end up crying. Regardless of the current scenario, Crowley would probably be embarrassed by that for the rest of his immortal life. Whether or not the serval ended up remembering, however, was largely irrelevant -- Crowley had long since honed his skills in the art of pretending things hadn't happened, for all involved parties' comforts. "Not dying. Jusst .. hurtsss" He whines, and, very gently, and entirely regardless of Aurum's intentions of allowing access to Crowley's face, tries to shove his head against Aurum. This is not the smartest plan in the world. His breath hitches as Aurum's fur brushes against whatever the hell injuries are on that side of his face**, but he doesn't pull away, just .. re-angles his head.
**Crowley honestly can't tell at this point. He thought he did, but then the talking thing ..
*Though, if asked, Crowley would probably very reluctantly call himself so.
Didn't mean the parts of Crowley that weren't too busy being agonized weren't cursing himself out, though.
Crowley's response to Aurum's calls are slowed, delayed. It takes him a few moments to register that somebody is talking at all, though his ears slowly prick up. Aurum? He struggles to return to himself, to fully understand what the hell is going on. He does, however, slowly relax into Aurum's touch as the other drapes a wing over him -- it's hard to worry about appearances and physical affection when you're too distracted by .. everything else.
The realization that Aurum is panicking comes slowly, particularly since it'd been .. fine, at first. Actually registering the words comes slower. The lion's flow of words had previously been a balm for the haze of pain and panic -- things couldn't be so bad when Aurum was there -- but then, upon registering that something was still very wrong, Crowley desperately tried to figure out how to rectify this with so little space left for higher brain function. Fortunately, Crowley isn't so out of it he can't. He's not fucking .. bleeding out, or getting so lost to the miniscule amount of heavenly power that he can't. It just hurts.
"Mm not ffucking .." Crowley wheezes, gasping. Crowley, quite frankly, has no idea what the hell to do with anything Aurum is saying. He is, however, working on limited time to respond based on how long he feels up to being conscious, and also a limited amount of time before Aurum, presumably, works himself up even further. So, he focuses on the important thing. This is probably for the better. Chances are that, Crowley, unprepared and as overwhelmed as he already was, would probably just end up crying. Regardless of the current scenario, Crowley would probably be embarrassed by that for the rest of his immortal life. Whether or not the serval ended up remembering, however, was largely irrelevant -- Crowley had long since honed his skills in the art of pretending things hadn't happened, for all involved parties' comforts. "Not dying. Jusst .. hurtsss" He whines, and, very gently, and entirely regardless of Aurum's intentions of allowing access to Crowley's face, tries to shove his head against Aurum. This is not the smartest plan in the world. His breath hitches as Aurum's fur brushes against whatever the hell injuries are on that side of his face**, but he doesn't pull away, just .. re-angles his head.
**Crowley honestly can't tell at this point. He thought he did, but then the talking thing ..
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[align=center]![[Image: ezgif-7-f3e523f182d0.gif]](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/463081660515221505/684393717838249984/ezgif-7-f3e523f182d0.gif)