realityshifted | (no subject)

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gunslinger girl (da) henrietta

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[Henrietta has been feeling a bit stressed lately, and so, to relieve that stress, she has created an obstacle course with her Angelic Powers of Making Things. There are climbing walls, nets to crawl under, things to swing across--all of the cliches of military training movies, with one exception; the consequences for failing these obstacles is a touch more dangerous than falling in the mud. The swing rope goes over a pit of spikes; as she climbs the wall, the slats fall down behind her. With each obstacle the consequences for failure become a bit more severe, until the last one has her rolling out of the way of a crushing block of stone and across the finish line.

She scrambles to her feet, looks back, and goes to check her pulse--only to realize for the first time that she's not breathing.]

...w...what?!

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I... I don't know.

Henrietta.

[She covers her head with both hands and just sort of crumples, sobbing] I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.

[Crowley looks panic-stricken for a moment—dammit, how many times is he going to have to prove he isn't cut out for this kind of thing? Finally he finds himself moving forward to crouch next to the girl, gathering her in his arms.]

[She clings to him, shaking a little] It's all my fault. It's--I'm sorry. I'll talk to the Twins. They can take something from me. And I can stay here when you want to go places, and you can go to dinner with signore Aziraphale and I won't get in the way.

[Mental Note: Devise some sort of ingenious torture for every single bastard working at the Agency. It can be a pet project.]

Henrietta...you know that I'm a demon, right?

[confused] Y...yes.

Then you can imagine, I'm sure, that demons aren't especially well known for patience, forgiveness, or self-sacrifice?

[nope, still confused] Uh...um. I guess so.

So what is it, exactly, that makes you think I'm cursed with those particular attributes? That when I tell you you haven't been a bother, I must be lying?

[djlfkjdfsdf] N-no, I don't think you're lying, I didn't mean it like that.

Then listen to me, will you? I'm a selfish being, Henrietta. If you're being a bother, I'll find a way to get rid of you.

As it is, I'm not missing my end of the trade overly much, and I can have dinner with Aziraphale any bloody time I like.

Now would you please stop worrying?

[wiping her eyes and giving him a hesitant look] Y... really? I'm not? I'm not a bother, I mean?

[Crowley arches an eyebrow and smiles slyly]

Well if you go off and get yourself discorporated by a bunch of bloody spikes in your little training exercise I might have to change my mind, but otherwise no. You aren't.

Edited 2008-11-25 19:33 (UTC)

[She relaxes, still shivering a little, more out of exhausted nerves than anything else.] I won't use spikes any more. [Heavy, tired sigh. She huddles a little closer.] I'm sorry I didn't tell you.

It's all right. [He continues to hold her, a part of him hoping very much that no one happens to wander upon this touching little scene.]

You're done here, then? Shall we go back to the flat?

[Nodnod] Ah, though I should probably get rid of these first. [Looks at the course]

Probably. We wouldn't want any unsuspecting Plane-goers to stumble into it, now would we?

[His tone is almost wistful. It certainly would be funny >>;]

[A moment of focus and a wave of her hand, and the course dissolves] That would be bad.

Of course. Awful.

[He stands, pulling Henrietta to her feet along with him, and brushes off his suit.]

Shall we drag Aziraphale away from his books and go find somewhere to have breakfast?

[brightens at the thought] Ah, can we? Where should we go?

The Draycott's got a good breakfast, or there's always the Ritz. I'll leave it up to you two to decide.

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