[She stuffs her PCD into her pocket and, a bottle of extremely nice, extremely rare scotch in hand, takes flight slowly. The flight is meandering and really much longer than it should be, and she comes thunking down with an obnoxiously loud cacophony of wings one house away from Crowley.
Also, she's on the roof. It seemed like the thing to do. It's cool up there, and she can feel the wind in her hair and blowing ticklishly through her noncorporeal wings. It might not be wind in literal feathers, but it still feels funny blowing through them. She keeps them out, letting her arms fall out into the breeze while wind and lighting and leaves wrap around the shape of her wings like shadow.]
[When Crowley hears the crash he sighs, shrugging into his coat before stepping outside, peering around until he sees Naomi... nextdoor. Another disgruntled sigh before he walks next door, stepping into the building before walking up the stairs, hopping over a half-rotted stairwell before pulling himself up through a hole, cursing at the dust.]
Ruined --
[With a soft huff, dusting off his coat, aggravated.]
Except not, because "dreamy" is not something that happens to Naomi. Still, it's the closest she's come since basically ever, since the days back home when she still had naivety to lose.]
I'm listening to the stars. You have to listen very closely, because the water movements in clouds are deafening.
[It is somewhat familiar -- nostalgic, even, and Crowley sighs to himself before carefully stepping along the roof, taking care not to tread near the massive shadows of her wings even though they can't truly be stepped on.]
I have little interest in the stars tonight, love.
[Despite that, Crowley takes a seat next to her, folding his coat underneath himself.]
[She turns towards him and her wings billow out like eagles', arcing out and curving around them enormously with a whispering that only an immortal could see and feel. Her eyes are actually sparkling- both with alcohol and what the alcohol brings, an unbridled ability to take joy in what's around her.]
Everything. Solar flares and explosions. Have you ever heard nuclear fusion? It sounds better than sex. I mean, I can hear sex all the time. Have you ever tried to look through a mind that wasn't perverted? Fusion is- you have to listen.
This is more like he remembered her, brilliant and crafty and curious about the world around her, full of life and curiosity, and then Heaven just... beat it out of her. Crowley is certain he helped her along the way, corrupting influence that he is, but what a bright light that was smothered by an even brighter one.
He supposes he should enjoy this week while it lasts.]
In my forty thousand years walking on the dark side, I've never heard of anything better than sex.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Unbelievable.
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i amnot affected
your affected clearly
does tyour mond feel alriht
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Seeing as I am apparently the babysitter for this next week, where are you?
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dean is here thingswill be fine
sam is absent
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this si a good party
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You ruin them. Loudly. With torture.
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that isnt helpful at all
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Now, again, before I send the hounds -- where are you?
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you need to relax
the party is at [insert place here!!!]
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have you seen them
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Would you like to use them or are you too drunk to fly?
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[The real answer is "too drunk to fly" but yolo, let's kick it up the ass.]
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The warding is adjusted to let you in.
Use the window.
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[x,y]
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Also, she's on the roof. It seemed like the thing to do. It's cool up there, and she can feel the wind in her hair and blowing ticklishly through her noncorporeal wings. It might not be wind in literal feathers, but it still feels funny blowing through them. She keeps them out, letting her arms fall out into the breeze while wind and lighting and leaves wrap around the shape of her wings like shadow.]
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Ruined --
[With a soft huff, dusting off his coat, aggravated.]
Do you have a listening problem?
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Except not, because "dreamy" is not something that happens to Naomi. Still, it's the closest she's come since basically ever, since the days back home when she still had naivety to lose.]
I'm listening to the stars. You have to listen very closely, because the water movements in clouds are deafening.
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I have little interest in the stars tonight, love.
[Despite that, Crowley takes a seat next to her, folding his coat underneath himself.]
But I'll humor you -- what can you hear?
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Everything. Solar flares and explosions. Have you ever heard nuclear fusion? It sounds better than sex. I mean, I can hear sex all the time. Have you ever tried to look through a mind that wasn't perverted? Fusion is- you have to listen.
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This is more like he remembered her, brilliant and crafty and curious about the world around her, full of life and curiosity, and then Heaven just... beat it out of her. Crowley is certain he helped her along the way, corrupting influence that he is, but what a bright light that was smothered by an even brighter one.
He supposes he should enjoy this week while it lasts.]
In my forty thousand years walking on the dark side, I've never heard of anything better than sex.
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Because you've never heard fusion. All sex sounds the same.
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[A bit dryly, though Crowley does look up at the sky with a careful frown, almost... contemplative at Naomi's point.]
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