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Open wolf at the end of the bed

Discussion in 'Town Square' started by Crowley, Apr 20, 2018.

  1. Crowley

    Crowley Supernatural
    Simon Lewis stresses me out

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    APRIL 23RD, YEAR 7

    "Really?"

    Crowley's gesture drew the attention of several passersby as he irritably flapped his hands at the second store in an hour that had freshly painted, discreet wards written on the walls. Probably hidden by picture frames, or else made to look like part of the decor. Standing outside looking in, it didn't matter, because it meant that Crowley wasn't going to see any of it, seeing as he was physically unable to pass the threshold of the shop.

    At his heel, Juliet sniffed derisively, pointedly turning her nose up at the place. She turned on her heel to leave, glancing over her immense shoulder at Crowley, who was still glaring hatefully into the store, feeling sorely tempted to set it on fire for his own petty pleasure. He may have, had Juliet not turned around again and gingerly mouthed his sleeve, cutting through the haze of indignant frustration.

    Right. Sunny Tuesday on River Street. Probably not the best place to commit arson.

    Sneering viciously, he gave the shop one last dirty look before slouching away, hands in his pockets and mood effectively ruined. Wanting nothing more than to just go the fuck home before he really did murder someone, Crowley deliberately ignored Juliet as she danced around him in a desperate bid to cheer him up. As much as he knew it would disappoint her if he stayed sour, he couldn't will his mood to perk up. Instead, he looked away from the hound, focusing his glare on the clock tower, which had done nothing wrong but he hated it anyway.

    Focused on his mental image of the stupid thing exploding and a giant gear crushing the shop and all its occupants, it took Crowley a split second to register the fantastic splash that echoed from the side. Looking up sharply when it sank in, the demon wheeled around to stare at the scene Juliet made as she scrambled frantically to pull herself out of the fountain, soaked to the skin and trembling in abject fear of his reaction to her blunder.

    "You dumb muppet." He sighed in fond exasperation, knowing too well that nothing would be gained from a temper tantrum in public. Not for this, anyway. "Get out of there! What do you think you are? A helltrout? Come on, out!"



     
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  2. Grantaire

    Grantaire Les Misérables

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    Grantaire had never known anyone missing a limb to be as cheerful as Artemis. Maybe she was just excited to finally have a home after months in the animal shelter. Either way, her mood was absolutely infectious, which was good, since after the whole 'vampire venom addiction' thing, good feelings were important.

    Even more impressive than her attitude was the absolute bottomless energy she had. It didn't matter how far they walked, she was always trying to drag the walk out just a few more blocks. Usually, he didn't mind indulging her at all.

    As such, he wasn't surprised to be walking down River Street again, tilting his beret in greetings at a few people who recognized them from their first circuit. Really, he had a spring in his step and didn't think that anything would be souring his mood.

    As usual, cynicism was wiser than optimism.

    Unsurprisingly, Artemis noticed the commotion before Grantaire did. Apparently a big, big dog had decided to take a dip in one of the fountains and was getting yelled at by his or her frustrated owner. If it was a normal sized dog, he would've offered some assistance, but one almost as big as a human? Maybe it was best to stay out of it.

    Of course, Artemis had different plans. As Grantaire debated walking up to the enraged dog-owner, she was apparently determining the perfect moment to yank her leash out of his hand. Immediately, he realized what she was about to do, and he tried in vain to chase after her, yelling her name and demands to stop, but it was no use.

    A smaller splash was heard not too far from the bigger dog as Artemis apparently decided it was a pool party. "Oh, for God's sake Artemis!" he yelled, trying his best to speak over the other commotion, "Enjolras is going to kill me if I returned with a water-logged pup! Get back here!" He tried his best to reach over to her and pull her out, but she had a head start swimming a bit closer to the other dog, obviously keeping a safe distance between them.
     
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  3. Crowley

    Crowley Supernatural
    Simon Lewis stresses me out

    Posts:
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    Gender:
    Male
    Occupation:
    Deal-Maker
    Location:
    Misty Hollow
    Race:
    Demon
    Age:
    354
    Alignment:
    Neutral Evil
    Directory:
    link





    APRIL 23RD, YEAR 7

    Oh for the love and glory of Hell, there was another one.

    Crowley covered his head with his arms just in time to avoid the splash as the second dog leaped into the fountain and made a beeline for Juliet, who had frozen in her frantic attempt to escape and was staring down at the much smaller animal with wide, leery eyes. "Juliet, don't be a bitch!" Crowley warned, aware that the hellhound was unlike any mundane dog - not only due to her immense size, but also her immense intelligence. If she could understand human speech and read books in her spare time, she could certainly hold her temper with some little pup that only wanted to impress her.

    She gave him a scathing look, as if to say 'why would I be rude?' before tentatively taking a jump at the small dog, sending a veritable tidal wave of fountain water at it. Tail suddenly wagging furiously, Juliet immediately lurched away, spinning in a frantic, eager circle, clearly oblivious to the fact that the smaller canine was forced to swim whereas she was easily striding through the fountain.

    Glancing at the young fellow who was just trying to get his pup back, Crowley felt a sliver of pity - only because the man had a dog and therefore couldn't be as shitty as most human beings. Snapping his fingers at Juliet, he pointed at the two of them. "Bring her out with you." He demanded, watching with hawk eyes as the hellhound wilted and obediently grabbed up the mundane mutt's leash, striding to the edge of the fountain and extending it politely towards the stranger with a low whine.

    Then, dripping water everywhere as she did so, Juliet hauled herself out of the fountain one foot at a time and gave a tremendous shake, coating the entire area in a layer of drool and water.

    "Oh, I hate you. I absolutely hate you. Why do I even have you?" Crowley ground out lowly, staring down at his destroyed suit in disbelief, only to yowl like an offended cat when Juliet rudely rubbed her enormous head against his chest, rumbling a deep, happy growl as she did so. "Useless mongrel is what you are! Useless! Bloody--" He cut himself off and addressed the stranger.

    "D'you need that dried off? With fur like that, she'll matt up if you don't." He warned amiably, already smitten by the three-legged pooch.

    @Grantaire


     
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  4. Grantaire

    Grantaire Les Misérables

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    Grantaire had been concerned about returning to Enjolras with a soaking wet dog; he hadn't considered the possibility of returning with no dog. When the larger one (who was apparently named Juliet, which was cute) splashed so much water at Artemis that her few legs had to work overtime to keep her head above the water, Grantaire felt his heart break a little in terror.

    Fortunately, Juliet also seemed to be intelligent, as her owner was able to direct her to grab Artemis's leash and drag her back to the edge, where Grantaire was able to get her the rest of the way out. It was so relieving that he almost forgot to thank his sort of rescuer.

    "Ah, thank you," he said to Juliet, sending a grateful nod her owner's way as well. He then turned his attention to Artemis, who actually dared to try and walk back towards the fountain. The nerve of this dog. Blaming Enjolras entirely for her rebellious attitude, he scooped her up with one arm and glared at her, muttering, "haven't you done enough?" under his breath.

    That was all he was able to do before getting drenched by what should have been obvious. Of course as soon as Juliet made it out of the water, she was going to get everything in a 50ft radius soaking wet. He couldn't even blame her for that.

    Fortunately, working in an animal shelter meant that he had given up being disgusted by dog drool a long time ago, so he was more upset by his leather jacket getting wet than anything else. Next to his beret, it was his favorite fashion accessory.

    Before he could get to that however, his fellow dog owner offered to help dry Artemis out, which was probably more important than the jacket. "True, her fur does not appreciate water as much as she does," he said, transferring her to his other arm for the other man to see her furiously wagging tail even better, "if you have a way to help, I would be quite in your debt."
     
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  5. Crowley

    Crowley Supernatural
    Simon Lewis stresses me out

    Posts:
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    Male
    Occupation:
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    Location:
    Misty Hollow
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    Demon
    Age:
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    Alignment:
    Neutral Evil
    Directory:
    link





    APRIL 23RD, YEAR 7

    Juliet gave a tremendous woof of approval at the stranger's appreciation, casting a dour glance at Crowley as she did so, clearly communicating that someone here could see how important she was. He wrinkled his nose at her in response and shoved her head away forcefully, turning his focus on the lad's puppy, who seemed to not have learned a damn thing about climbing into fountains.

    Anyone else might have felt a sliver of guilt, knowing that their dog had liberally coated someone in water and slime, but Crowley's guilt-o-meter was stunted at the best of times. He felt a twinge of amusement, certainly, but he didn't feel bad about it.

    When the pup was switched between the damp man's arms, Crowley felt a swell of immense glee at the sight of her wriggly tail, and he strode forward with little regard for her owner, focused solely on the adorable, squirmy, very wet pup. "Yes, hello. I know, I know, I know, it's very nice to meet you!" He beamed, carefully maneuvering her face away from his as he summoned his magic and focused, releasing it over her fluffy coat in a wave of subdued heat, drying her in one motion. After a moment, Crowley grudgingly poked the lad's arm and dried him as well, figuring otherwise he'd just get the poor dog wet again.

    "There. Not much I can do about the fountain smell, but it's not as bad as the river." Crowley huffed, applying the same magical touch to Juliet and then himself. The hellhound, in delight, ran in a tight circle around them before nudging up against her newfound friends, bow-wowing loudly as she wriggled her nose under the pup's rump.

    Crowley rolled his eyes. "Try not to let her swim in any more public architecture, yeah? Don't want to get a reputation for it. At this rate they might make it a criminal friggin' offense."

    @Grantaire


     
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  6. Grantaire

    Grantaire Les Misérables

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    Grantaire felt oddly like he was being judged by the strange dog, which probably shouldn't have been surprising given how intelligent she seemed, but for some reason she had decided he was actually not completely lacking. He didn't judge himself favorably... ever, so even having a dog approve of his existence was always startling. Well, Artemis approved of him, but he wasn't sure if she could hate anything, so she didn't count.

    Speaking of surprising, the fellow dog owner's method of drying off everyone in the vicinity seemed to be more... magical than he was used to. Granted, he'd gotten used to the very existence of the supernatural in Pandora, but it was still slightly surprising to see it happen up close. "Well, that's certainly the most efficient way to solve the problem," he said, gratefully.

    Artemis, as usual, didn't seem to care about the chaos she helped to cause, instead just trying to get closer to the magic-person she had decided was a new friend. "I work at the animal shelter," he said, "I am quite used to smelling like hounds for most of a day. Most likely an improvement over everything back in Paris. 1832 was not a year for proper hygiene."

    The next thing he knew, Juliet was apparently trying to get a better glimpse of Artemis in the way dogs met one another, and Artemis seemed just as curious. Considering for a moment, Grantaire eventually relented and placed her on the ground (away from the fountain), making sure to keep a good grip on her leash this time. Immediately she hopped over to Juliet and started sniffing at the nearest paw, which was the only part of Juliet she could even reach.

    "I'm certain she already has a reputation for making trouble," he replied, "she still hasn't quite learned not to steal off of any plates left unattended. How such a tiny dog can climb like that, I will never know."
     
    #6 Grantaire, Apr 21, 2018
    Last edited: Apr 30, 2018
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  7. Crowley

    Crowley Supernatural
    Simon Lewis stresses me out

    Posts:
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    Male
    Occupation:
    Deal-Maker
    Location:
    Misty Hollow
    Race:
    Demon
    Age:
    354
    Alignment:
    Neutral Evil
    Directory:
    link





    APRIL 23RD, YEAR 7

    "Magic, mate. You'd be amazed how convenient it can be." Crowley chuckled, wiggling his fingers at him harmlessly. He forgot, at times, that many people in Pandora were not familiar with such things - he was so used to seeing the extraordinary that it was too easy to forget about the mundane. He blamed his living situation. Sharing a house with a ghost and living next door with a witch, a god, a magical girl, and every other kind of supernatural being... well, when that became one's norm, one rather forgot the other side of things.

    Nevertheless, Crowley was immediately pleased by the lad's line of work, visibly perking up at the mention of an animal shelter. He didn't care much for cats or rabbits or what-have-you, but he was painfully fond of dogs. So much so that Crowley had funded a handful of rescues in his own world, very quietly and through a dozen burner accounts to avoid having it linked to his formidable reputation. He decided, impulsively, that this boy was quite all right.

    "Vive la Revolution. Was this before or after Lamarque? D'you know of him?" He tilted his head curiously. Crowley had been in the neighborhood at that time, in his own world. Disease, upheaval, revolt, rioting in the streets... it had been a bloody free-for-all as far as demonkind went. In fact, it was one of the first time he'd been topside unsupervised, as far as his memory served. "You're lucky to be as hale and hearty as you are. How many thousand people dropped with cholera that spring? Eighteen?"

    He shook his head at the memories, then watched the dogs interact with amusement. Juliet dipped down to rub her enormous nose over the pup, then boldly flipped the poor thing off her feet and danced away excitedly, dropping into an eager bow. Her great, fanged mouth yawned in anticipation. "You don't have to hold onto her. Juliet won't let her back in the fountain. She's not a mundane dog - she knows better." Crowley explained smoothly.

    He listened to the lad's complaints about his new puppy and chuckled. "She'll grow out of it if you're consistent. Once she knows there's no profit in it, she'll move on to raising hell in more constructive ways."

    @Grantaire


     
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  8. Grantaire

    Grantaire Les Misérables

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    "Clearly," Grantaire deadpanned, "it saved me from having to explain to my roommate what happened to Artemis. Truly, it is a lifesaver." He didn't want Enjolras to build a barricade and force him out of the apartment or whatever he would have done.

    He couldn't help but chuckle at the questions about Lamarque. "After; a few days after his death to be specific," he said, "and I knew of him quite well. I had to; my revolutionary friends were discussing what they would do upon his death nonstop. It's too bad all of their planning ended up being for naught. Even I'm not enough of an ass to say 'I told you so' in this situation." Granted, he didn't want to insult Enjolras in particular like that, since it was unlikely to get his attention, merely upset him.

    'Hale and hearty' was never exactly something he would have applied to himself (those words had positive connotations, so they clearly weren't meant for him), but at the same time it wasn't inaccurate. "I suppose I managed to drown out the diseases with all of the alcohol," he speculated with a grin, "even cholera decided I wasn't worth its time."

    If it hadn't been made abundantly clear that Juliet was indeed more intelligent than the average dog, he might have been a bit more uncomfortable with the prospect of letting Artemis free, but, well, no reason not to, right?

    "Alright, mon cœur," he muttered as he dropped the leash, "at least try not to get into too much trouble." Artemis didn't even seem to notice, instantly fighting to get back to her feet and chasing after Juliet excitedly.

    "Oh, I'm certain Enjolras will teach her how to overthrow the monarchy herself one day," he said, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye, "mon bébé, fighting for the republic. It makes me teary just thinking about it."
     
    #8 Grantaire, Apr 22, 2018
    Last edited: Apr 22, 2018
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  9. Crowley

    Crowley Supernatural
    Simon Lewis stresses me out

    Posts:
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    Location:
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    APRIL 23RD, YEAR 7

    "Don't be glum. A few years later the whole regime went tits up. The June Rebellion had a small hand in it, for what it's worth." Crowley offered lightly. 1848 had been a grand year indeed. "Liberté. Egalité. Fraternité" He quoted with a lame twirl of his index finger. "That was what they all hollered about when the monarchy went up in smoke, I believe." Paris was such a quaint, peaceful city.

    At the mention of excessive, possibly problematic drinking, Crowley grinned and winked. "Lad after my own heart." He chuckled. "Kept me alive to a ripe old age in the 1700's. Reckon if it worked then it'd work any time." Crowley did, of course, catch the self deprecating edge to what his unusual young friend said, but he didn't draw attention to it. Bad enough that he had a handful of other idiots who kept whimpering in his ears all the live-long day about their troubles. He wasn't inviting another one to continue the bloody trend.

    He watched the dogs for a moment. Juliet eagerly bopped around Artemis, looking like an outrageous. giant caricature of a canine next to the mundane pup. Once he was satisfied that she was being reasonably gentle, Crowley flicked his gaze back to the french boy, who was proving to be unusually witty.

    Chuckling, the demon shook his head. "I can see her now. With a little flag that reads La Liberté ou la Mort, yeah?" Crowley gave a proper bark of laughter, reinforced when Juliet began to eagerly yodel at her new puppy as she pranced back and forth. "Crowley, by the way." He added, tilting his head in greeting. He didn't offer a hand - he wasn't feeling that charitable.


    @Grantaire


     
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  10. Grantaire

    Grantaire Les Misérables

    Posts:
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    So, Enjolras's barricade did do some good after all. It might not have been Grantaire's cause, but it made him feel at least a little satisfied to know that he had accomplished something. Even if his name didn't go down in history, he had a feeling Enjolras didn't need that anyway. It had always been about bringing about change for the people with him.

    "I'm certain Enjolras will be glad to hear that," he said, "I had never been that invested in the revolution anyway. It seemed inevitable that no one would actually rise up in rebellion. But, if they did eventually I suppose that's enough for him." He couldn't help but chuckle at the image of the monarchy being set ablaze while Enjolras yelled revolutionary rhetoric at them. It just seemed so Enjolras it hurt.

    A fellow drinker to excess. Along with being a lover of dogs, he had clearly found someone who understood him. It didn't escape his notice that he was apparently talking to someone who had lived more than 100 years or so. That didn't seem to be something he needed to ask about. It wasn't that surprising after the magic show and everything.

    So instead, he laughed once and replied, "I should have used that reasoning whenever I was told to put the bottle down. They would not deprive me of my medicine." He could just picture Joly fretting about such incorrect health advice. His smile became slightly wistful at the thought of his old friend, but other than that, he seemed to be as cheerful as ever.

    "But of course," he replied with a laugh, "and her own barricade made of doggy beds and dishes to wave it from. Truly a sight to behold." For some reason, he felt like he had passed some sort of test when Crowley decided to introduce himself. "Grantaire," he returned, "but, you may call me R."
     
  11. Crowley

    Crowley Supernatural
    Simon Lewis stresses me out

    Posts:
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    Male
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    Location:
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    Age:
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    Alignment:
    Neutral Evil
    Directory:
    link





    Crowley tilted his head at the lad's nihilistic viewpoint. It was one thing not to agree with a cause of a belief - Crowley knew about that only too well, having been in the position himself a thousand times - but to dismiss the whole idea of an uprising as hopeless was a bit pessimistic, even for him. "Every society eventually has one revolution or another, usually built on the backs of whatever ones flopped." Crowley pointed out blandly, making it clear by his expression that he had no intention of debating the matter.

    He was sure he wasn't a good influence for anyone like Grantaire, who clearly had a handful of unhappy monkeys on his back. The last thing a lad like this needed was a demon such as Crowley urging him on in his vices, but... well, a demon was a demon, however reformed he considered himself, and he couldn't resist grinning at Grantaire shamelessly. "That's the proper spirit." He cheered brightly.

    Turning his head, Crowley watched Juliet run around Artemis, delicately stepping around the pup with more grace than her enormous form would imply while bellowing low, plaintive whines of excitement. Each time she bounced away, she waited for the smaller dog to jump on her face before prancing away again, clearly having a delightful time despite being a hound of frigging Hell.

    Crowley chortled, nodding as Grantaire introduced himself. Talk about French. "Oh, I'm sure I'll find something to call you by the end of this." He said with a trace of amusement, glancing up and down the lad's frame before turning his attention back to the dogs. "She doesn't give up, does she? Bless her, she's determined to climb Juliet like a bloody tree."

    @Grantaire


     
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  12. Grantaire

    Grantaire Les Misérables

    Posts:
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    "Ah, but not two years after another failed one," Grantaire replied, casually. After that he shook his head and quickly said, "but don't mistake my cynicism for certainty. It is easier to expect failure than dream of success." Really, part of him never believed that Enjolras could fail. It was like thinking that a god couldn't create something new and beautiful.

    Discussing drinking, however, was a much more enjoyable way to spend time. With a smirk, he replied, "I have not yet found my preferred spirit. So many new drinks to choose from." As usual, he refused to let a pun go unsaid.

    Artemis was having the time of her life, even though she hadn't managed to really get a hit in. It occurred to Grantaire that she was probably missing having other dogs to play with. She never lacked for similar company in the animal shelter, despite how much she clearly hated it. Hopefully he'd be able to find someone willing to set up some puppy play-dates, or the poor girl would probably forget what it was like to play tag with a fellow hound.

    Crowley's words were ominous in a very intriguing way. Grantaire had never been one to prioritize his own safety over getting into some probably stupidly dangerous situations with someone he should've known better to associate with. So, he simply chuckled back, curious to see where it would lead.

    "I'm not certain if finally being out of the shelter has given her a new lease on life, or if she just refuses to let anything stop her from getting what she wants. If it is the second, I take no responsibility for that. Enjolras is truly a terribly perfect example for her."
     
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  13. Crowley

    Crowley Supernatural
    Simon Lewis stresses me out

    Posts:
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    Male
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    Location:
    Misty Hollow
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    Age:
    354
    Alignment:
    Neutral Evil
    Directory:
    link





    "Oh, you must be a friggin' joy at parties." Crowley scoffed, looking more amused than discouraged by Grantaire's outlook. After all, it wasn't like he could tell the lad he was wrong, especially given the florid history of Paris. If anything, that cynicism lined up perfectly with the era Crowley knew his new acquaintance had come from. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...

    blah blah blah whatever

    "If you can still find it, firewhiskey is a religious experience in and of itself." Crowley advised merrily. He would be recommending that brew until he knew beyond any doubt that it was extinct in Pandora - probably by his own hand at the rate he was going through bottles of it. "Or-- Juliet!" He snapped, and the hound immediately dropped her head and her paw, which she had been using to keep Artemis at bay with amusement that Crowley had sensed becoming rather malicious the longer the smaller pup flailed about.

    He addressed Grantaire again, once he was sure the play had returned to innocence. "Oh, a bit of both. You'll find out in a few months, once she settles." Crowley shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Juliet's going on eighty-four this year, and I still don't have a blessed clue what to make of her most of the time. Worst and best hound I ever bred."

    @Grantaire


     
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  14. Grantaire

    Grantaire Les Misérables

    Posts:
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    "I am very fun at parties that involve drinking, joking, probably getting into fist-fights with scoundrels at bars," Grantaire replied, airily, "or if your definition of a party includes arguing with optimistic, flawless godlike humans." And once again, he couldn't talk about Enjolras without being besotted, even at a distance.

    He made a mental note, firewhiskey. He could guess what it was like, but he wanted to be surprised. If he could find any, which just meant that he had something to look forward to. His friends had beautiful dreams of the future spurring them forward, he had alcohol. Whatever got him through the day.

    The next thing he knew, Crowley started yelling at Juliet, and when he glanced over to see for himself, he couldn't help but laugh at the sight. "Come now, Artemis, is that all you can do?" he encouraged. That seemed to somehow make her more determined to do something about her situation. As soon as Juliet's head was on the ground, she pounced, practically laying across the bigger dog's muzzle. She then seemed to be just a tiny bit stuck, just laying there, looking around, confusedly.

    Grantaire didn't even notice that much, as he had quickly turned his head in surprise at the revelation that Juliet was over 80. It should have been obvious, since everything about the duo pointed to them being magic, but he couldn't help it.

    "And she doesn't look a day over 70," he joked, "have you been breeding hounds long?" It couldn't be an easy profession, he assumed. Not when they were as intelligent as Juliet.
     
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  15. Crowley

    Crowley Supernatural
    Simon Lewis stresses me out

    Posts:
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    Alignment:
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    "Careful now, your feelings are showing." Crowley snorted, eyeing Grantaire and wondering who this flawless, godlike human was. It was a bit adorable, watching emotion play out as a spectator. It was turning into a hobby of his.

    Smirking faintly, Crowley allowed his attention to wander back to the dogs, just in time to snort as Artemis made her terrific bid to pin Juliet, who went cross-eyed as she stared at the impertinent pup splayed across her snout. Slowly, and with great care, the hellhound raised her head, taking her small friend along for the ride.

    He caught Grantaire's expression when he mentioned Juliet's age, and Crowley merely smiled thinly. Knowing the time period the lad came from, dropping the demon bomb was probably going to be a comical disaster of epic proportions, but in the same vein, Crowley didn't like denying his nature. It seemed just as bad as lying about it, truth be told.

    "They age beautifully." Crowley agreed generously. There were hounds that were as old as the oldest demons who still looked to be in their prime or, at worst, only just past. Some had only grown stronger as they aged, though he personally doubted if that would be the case for Juliet. She was no runt, but she used her special brand of magic so rarely that Crowley didn't think it would ever have the chance to develop any further than the absolute bare essentials.

    It took him a moment to become aware of Grantaire's question, but eventually Crowley looked at him and raised his brows. "Oh, a couple centuries, I suppose. More of a hobby than anything. Could've taken it up more seriously, but..." But it would mean spending more time in Hell and no bloody thank you. He shook his head. "Other vocations called that were a bit more profitable. 'Sides, hellhound breeding is a life-and-limb ordeal. Juliet's an oddity - none of the others are half as nice."

    @Grantaire


     
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  16. Grantaire

    Grantaire Les Misérables

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    "Oh dear, and where children can see, too," Grantaire deadpanned. Frankly, he didn't even pretend he wasn't absolutely in love with Enjolras anymore. Back in Paris, well, that was a bit necessary, but once he had tried to die alongside Enjolras and the leader still seemed oblivious, he quickly realized that it was probably just a waste of time.

    Artemis's tail wagged as fast as usual when she was lifted into the air. If she could speak, she might've made some sort of 'wheeee!' noise, but as it was, she could only yip excitedly and brace herself to make sure she didn't overbalance. Grantaire could only stare briefly in disbelief that he had ended up adopting such a little troublemaker. And falling so in love with her that he would rather die than lose her.

    It was always nice to hear people who got joy out of their preferred hobbies. Grantaire was rather jealous, really. He had tried everything he could think of to cover that hole in his mind that all emotions seemed to disappear in, but none of them worked. Artemis helped, but he was certain that there was still something very wrong with him.

    He didn't voice any of that (obviously). Instead, he started to speak, "I suppose that would make such a profession less than id... hellhound?" He cut himself off when the words finally clicked. He blinked for a few seconds, obviously surprised. "Well, that explains a few things," he finally said. He was mostly trying to come to terms with the fact that, if hell existed, well, it was rather agreed upon in his time that his obsession with Enjolras would be excuse enough for him to be sent there after dying for him.
     
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  17. Crowley

    Crowley Supernatural
    Simon Lewis stresses me out

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    "You ought to be ashamed." Crowley teased mockingly with a quicksilver grin. It was refreshing to find someone in his day-to-day life who didn't flush and scramble for excuses when he called them on their cases of emotion. Grantaire's nonchalant acceptance of it added another point in his favor in the demon's mind. The lad was doing quite well for himself.

    As Juliet began to tentatively strut about with her new cap secure on her face, Crowley mused on Grantaire's expressive face. He didn't know if it was deliberate, or perhaps the frenchman simply didn't care, but he could practically watch individual thoughts dancing from one side of his face to the other and back again. It was like a movie in motion, and Crowley found himself rather fascinated as he stared at the lad's open expressions.

    "Does it really?" He quipped. "How so, if you don't mind me asking?" Crowley tilted his head, curious as to how, in Grantaire's mind, any of this was to be expected. Was it another mopey, cynical moment of his? Did he expect some nefarious purpose? He couldn't help but utter a hoarse scoff at that, considering his greatest ambition for the day had been window shopping for new antiques to add to his house. "Also, since we're addressing elephants in the room, demon." Crowley pointed at himself and raised his brows, pursing his lips in an almost-smile.

    "Surprise. Don't worry, I'm not interested in dragging you to Hell or anything so plebeian. Frankly, I don't think you'd fit in in the Pit anyway. Far too nice." He wrinkled his nose slightly.

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  18. Grantaire

    Grantaire Les Misérables

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    "Shame?" Grantaire scoffed, "please, I am far too busy pining for such emotions. Let them stare, perhaps they may learn when following one person leaves the realms of cute and becomes just tragic." He could teach kids a lot about being tragic. Maybe that was his destiny in life, be a warning for literally everyone else. Well, someone had to do it.

    "Well, as you said yourself, she is not a mundane hound," he said, "and in my experience, most dogs don't reach that size. I will admit that hellhound hadn't been my first guess, but I suppose I spent far too much time ignoring the threats of hellfire growing up that I was at a disadvantage." Before his parents had given up on him, they were very insistent that he be with them at church. In a way, it was very good luck his lack of abilities with math had been discovered as early as they had.

    An actual demon and hellhound. It wasn't really surprising after befriending (in a sense) a Valkyrie, but it was still something. It was probably a little more surprising just seeing how gentle Juliet was being with Artemis, who was absolutely loving being so tall.

    He let out a bark of laughter at Crowley's reassurance. "I almost wish I could visit Paris briefly and tell that to the bishops I grew up having to listen to," he said, "'don't worry about my soul, a demon promised me that I am far too good for hell. Yes, even despite being a sodomite.' I can see them beginning to twitch from here."
     
    #18 Grantaire, Apr 27, 2018
    Last edited: Apr 27, 2018
  19. Crowley

    Crowley Supernatural
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    Crowley's lips curled into an amused, mildly sympathetic smile as Grantaire lamented dramatically. "Do you practice all this, or does it just come naturally?" He asked sarcastically, raising a brow. He wanted to drag this lad to the doorstep of every single person who called him dramatic, just to make them all grateful for what they had. At least Crowley wasn't waxing poetic to passersby and his ill fated obsessions.

    Usually.

    "Hellhound is never anyone's first guess." Crowley shrugged, and Juliet awoo-ed in agreement, still with Artemis splayed over her face as she offered them an enormous, goofy grin. At best, people clued in to her otherworldly nature by virtue of her impossible size. At worst, they asked if she was part Great Dane. "Like I said, the hounds usually have vile temperaments that do more to tell you what they are than anything else. Juliet's an oddity."

    He scoffed sharply. "The church never knew about hellhounds." He dismissed arrogantly. Turning to regard Grantaire with a slightly more pitying gaze, despite the persistent amusement, Crowley shook his head. "Trust me, lad. There's a lot of reasons that people end up in the Pit, but being bum buddies with another man isn't one of them. If it was, Hell would be much better decorated." He supposed he could understand where the young man was coming from. Crowley was sure that during his own human years he would have had a similar opinion of things, but he'd spent too long in Hell, and too long alternating between human bodies both male and female. At this rate, even Crowley couldn't tell what his bloody gender identity was, let alone his sexuality.

    He didn't reckon they had a definition for him. "God doesn't care anyway, if you want a spoiler on the whole thing. He stopped giving a damn sometime around traumatizing poor Job."


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  20. Grantaire

    Grantaire Les Misérables

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    "Crowley, I am an artist," Grantaire said, putting a pompous accent on over his normal French one. The combination caused him to sound like he was attempting a French accent and failing, "melodramatic and melancholy are requirements. Honing my painting means honing my flair for all things dramatic." And most of his actual paintings were of Enjolras, so really, it was all just full-circle.

    Really, he didn't need to be told Juliet was odd for hellhounds, that was pretty obvious already. What with her comfortably carrying Artemis around like a fake mustache. That though made him itch for a pencil or something to start sketching. Hopefully he'd be able to hang onto that thought. And that Artemis would be able to hang onto her spot on Juliet, which she seemed to be doing rather admirably.

    "I'm glad to hear that," he said, "I worry what might have happened to Artemis if that was not the case." Somehow, he imagined her managing to slip by them without a scratch. Maybe that was just utter denial that his dog-daughter could ever be hurt. Ever.

    It was hard to tell if it was a good thing or bad thing that his discussion with a demon was actually helping him feel a little more comfortable in his own skin. At least he could be reasonably certain that it was true, even if he did believe in religion, which was one of many beliefs he dropped growing up. Long story short, it was nice to hear.

    "I can already picture the vases of flowers tastefully arranged by the lakes of fire," he snarked, "a pity that it cannot be." He decided to just not comment on the 'bum buddies' part, otherwise he would dissolve into hysterical giggling and that would just be a terrible sight for all involved.

    His smile disappeared briefly as he considered the 'spoiler.' That was a long time before Grantaire's. Which meant a long time where religion was basically a waste of time. "I feel as though some of my more melodramatic teenage angst has just been justified," he commented, "particularly those sketches of my least favorite priests being buggered by demons." He had almost completely forgotten he was in public. Not that he really cared, of course.
     
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