[ He doesn't mind battles, anyone who is familiar with Crowley should be aware of that. They give him a thrilling feeling, he finds join in swinging his blade, pushing himself to his limits and beyond that just to feel some sort of adrenaline rush. It was what he lived for now as a vampire and because of that he could easily shrug off any sort of injury or danger.
But this battle was different. Much more than what he experienced back at Nagoya or anything in the past hundred years--no, this battle reminded him of a history from so long ago.
Initially he thought of this all to be a plan devised by Ferid who held a reputation of making questionable decisions for the sake of entertainment.
That idea is quickly swept aside in the midst of battle, however, when he witnesses the vampire who forced him to turn be slaughtered. There's no feeling of regret or sadness, Ferid was perfectly capable of protecting himself so there was no degree of responsibility that weighed on him, but it still managed to surprise Crowley. Red eyes flickering wide-eyed, pausing between his next step that would ultimately lead to something he would regret: watching Horn throw herself between himself and an enemy attack, despite having warned both her and Chess of the borrowed power these livestock were using. Her body slumps over and he feels every word caught in the back of his throat, that familiar, pathetic, feeling of being able to do nothing as he watches her turn to dust.
Instinct reacts in time to save him (something that should have been done earlier to save Horn) and he doesn't hesitate to cut off the human's head.
Horn would not return, Horn was gone, and that reality hit harder than he was willing to admit as he searches the ruined battle ground for Chess. The entire atmosphere was stained was blood and trying to smell her out was near impossible, but when he meets a familiar head of blue already among the rubble and struggling to keep alive Crowley doesn't hesitate to rush over. Which, again, would be a bad move on his end, the hand that reaches out to her being met with a blade that cuts his left forearm off.
Maybe it was the rush of the battle, or perhaps from already losing this much so far, but the pain he feels coursing through what is left of his arm was so raw and real that he nearly, nearly felt human again. Flustered, the next swing of his blade that cuts through the torso of the human that attacked him was made with only half of the strength he possessed.
Once he's at Chess' side, his arm long abandoned, he's met with the realization that he would be unable to save her. Despite no longer having a heart or body heat the feeling he has in his chest was much colder than he once remembered; that is what he thought when she offered him what little left of blood remained inside of her, fangs piercing through skin and draining what little life she had in her body.
If Crowley didn't already hate himself enough before, he definitely did now.
Another pointless battle, more acquaintances lost, and all for what? Because those humans were so afraid in living in a world where they realized they were no longer at the top of the food chain? He wish he could be surprised, but the seraph proved itself as a product of the selfish lengths humans would go--taking a life was so common among their history (he had done so many times, more than he did as a vampire) that doing so now must make them feel some sort of comfort.
Like before he wants to give up.
It takes him a moment to realize that the figure just a distance away from him was moving--alive--and a shorter amount of time to put a name to that person; Krul Tepes.
He almost wants to laugh, greeting her among the destruction and death with a smile best reserved for friends. ]
Ferid's dead. [ As if sharing that news would brighten their day somehow. ] Everyone is.
So what are your orders, Queen? If you want me to be perfectly honest I think we should just lie down and die.
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But this battle was different. Much more than what he experienced back at Nagoya or anything in the past hundred years--no, this battle reminded him of a history from so long ago.
Initially he thought of this all to be a plan devised by Ferid who held a reputation of making questionable decisions for the sake of entertainment.
That idea is quickly swept aside in the midst of battle, however, when he witnesses the vampire who forced him to turn be slaughtered. There's no feeling of regret or sadness, Ferid was perfectly capable of protecting himself so there was no degree of responsibility that weighed on him, but it still managed to surprise Crowley. Red eyes flickering wide-eyed, pausing between his next step that would ultimately lead to something he would regret: watching Horn throw herself between himself and an enemy attack, despite having warned both her and Chess of the borrowed power these livestock were using. Her body slumps over and he feels every word caught in the back of his throat, that familiar, pathetic, feeling of being able to do nothing as he watches her turn to dust.
Instinct reacts in time to save him (something that should have been done earlier to save Horn) and he doesn't hesitate to cut off the human's head.
Horn would not return, Horn was gone, and that reality hit harder than he was willing to admit as he searches the ruined battle ground for Chess. The entire atmosphere was stained was blood and trying to smell her out was near impossible, but when he meets a familiar head of blue already among the rubble and struggling to keep alive Crowley doesn't hesitate to rush over. Which, again, would be a bad move on his end, the hand that reaches out to her being met with a blade that cuts his left forearm off.
Maybe it was the rush of the battle, or perhaps from already losing this much so far, but the pain he feels coursing through what is left of his arm was so raw and real that he nearly, nearly felt human again. Flustered, the next swing of his blade that cuts through the torso of the human that attacked him was made with only half of the strength he possessed.
Once he's at Chess' side, his arm long abandoned, he's met with the realization that he would be unable to save her. Despite no longer having a heart or body heat the feeling he has in his chest was much colder than he once remembered; that is what he thought when she offered him what little left of blood remained inside of her, fangs piercing through skin and draining what little life she had in her body.
If Crowley didn't already hate himself enough before, he definitely did now.
Another pointless battle, more acquaintances lost, and all for what? Because those humans were so afraid in living in a world where they realized they were no longer at the top of the food chain? He wish he could be surprised, but the seraph proved itself as a product of the selfish lengths humans would go--taking a life was so common among their history (he had done so many times, more than he did as a vampire) that doing so now must make them feel some sort of comfort.
Like before he wants to give up.
It takes him a moment to realize that the figure just a distance away from him was moving--alive--and a shorter amount of time to put a name to that person; Krul Tepes.
He almost wants to laugh, greeting her among the destruction and death with a smile best reserved for friends. ]
Ferid's dead. [ As if sharing that news would brighten their day somehow. ] Everyone is.
So what are your orders, Queen? If you want me to be perfectly honest I think we should just lie down and die.