driftfleet | Goldstone Mingle!

Felix is somewhere in the vicinity of okay in the sense that he can see it...looking over at like a man glancing over a tall fence that he can't quite get to. The first clue is that the second the Vieziri disappears all the strength goes out of his legs and collapses to his knees on the soil, the thought of what fate may have befallen the creature not at all in his thoughts. Part of that might be the head injury, clearly evidenced by the bloody bruise on his left temple, but part of it is also the stubborn panic that refuses to subside entirely.

His mind is a confusion of flashes to dark basements and cavernous halls and he actively reminds himself that Crowley is not Malkar or Edwin Beckett but he is a monster. A fact that Felix has known for a very long time but never seen up close, and that's shaken him.

But he'd called for that monster. Asked for it. And facing that is still less terrible than giving up his life to these other monsters for a purpose he still can't quite discern. It was true, as well, that not all things that looked monstrous where the definition of such. The Kalliphorne and her kin were proof of that.

If Crowley was a monster in form the real one lurked deep inside himself. Quiet for a long time, true, but perhaps never truly gone.

"They caught me on my blind side," he admits, by way of an answer to the positive, his voice dazed but moving slightly towards calm.

Crowley moves to crouch beside him, brow furrowing deeper. One hand automatically moves to Felix's temple, healing the bruise, trying to fix the physical damage left behind. Normally, he'd ask permission first, but he likes to think he and Felix are beyond such things. Besides, this...this is something he can do. Something he can mend.

The mental damage, though, that is something he can't mend, and he really hopes that it's not irreparable. That they haven't broken what Felix has spent so long trying to make at least a little more stable- not completely healed, never that, but...something. The fact he will have added to that never really occurs to him. He forgets too easily what he is can be a little...much for mortal minds.

"They are sneaky buggers. Took me ages to get down here," he tries to keep his tone airy and nonplussed- but the strain is there, sneaking in through the cracks. "...Felix, talk to me. You holding up okay?"

And it is, in fact, a rather large indication that even despite his state of mind that Felix does not try to stop or even shy away from that healing. Magic applied to his person in even beneficial ways was done often begrudgingly, now that he could remove at least some of his frame of reference from the prison that the Cabaline rules confined him to. But he still preferred it. Had begun to remake it into something he could call his own. Even more, he trusted Crowley implicitly, not even a thought of pain or something possibly going awry as it had when Gideon had healed his fingers.

Perhaps it's a thought he should have had, given how the planet had clearly interfered with the demon in the first place. But it doesn't.

Not when that old irrational panic is still trying to wrap it's icy fingers around his throat and drag him down into madness. He's present enough to know that's what's happening, but it's rarely been enough to halt those feelings in their tracks. Usually because he could not bear to explain to whoever might be present why when the reasons were so shameful. People rarely understood. Gideon had tried, and had been patient and stern with Felix in getting him to reason his way through those fears, until his patience had been expended. Mildmay had understood as well...sometimes far too much for Felix to stomach. But like both had held his hand in the dark, Felix reached out for Crowley's, gripping hard to hold onto something solid. Something that would anchor him and ensure his chaotic mind that all was well.

He shakes his head, hair a wild, dirty cloud around his downcast face. He isn't okay, and he can't maintain the lie.

"I fucked up, I'm sorry," he says by way of answer, voice cracking and giving way to a sob. The curse word it perhaps the greatest indicator that something has slipped, but the fact that his diction is still perfect means that it isn't too far.

All of these are exceptionally worrying signs, and the demon's brow furrows all the more as he processes them- and what they mean about Felix. How he's doing. Or not, as the case may be here. He takes Felix's hand without hesitation, the worry starting to churn uncomfortably in his stomach.

"Hey."

He shifts closer, his free hand moving to brush against the side of Felix's face- surprisingly gentle (or perhaps not so surprising, for anyone who truly knew the demon) trying to soothe him. To bring Felix back from whatever dark place his mind is retreating to.

"Hey, listen. It's okay. You didn't cause this, this is just...Atroma bullshit as it always is. It's not your fault."

He's not great at the comfort side of things, his movements are a little awkward. No matter how many millennia he remains amongst humanity, there are some things that will always sit a touch too unnaturally for him. But by Someone, he wants to try. His hand continues to brush against Felix's face, catching some of his hair, smoothing it down. He hopes it provides some comfort, at least, as he waits to see if Felix snaps out of this.

While it was common among the two of them to place blame the foot of their captor, Felix's first impulse was almost always to blame himself for the course of events. The fact that he was prone to hasty or emotional decisions during times of stress was undeniable. It rarely mattered what the circumstances were. In this case, it was trying to fix the ship. He'd had no choice in the matter, if they any chance of getting off this damned rock, but he certainly had not waited around for the rest of the crew to be around to stand guard while he did so.

It doesn't matter much that Crowley isn't skilled at this - Mildmay hadn't been either - what mattered was the simple involved. He's always been very responsive to touch, and it was hard to say if that was training or something more intrinsic to him that made him very good at his job in the first place. His face twists, crumpling with suppressed sobs, before he finally pulls the demon into a hug. He's nearly as awkward at the motion as Crowley is, but it doesn't matter. His tears are silent, but it's easy enough to feel his shuddering as the ghosts of the past ebb away from the horrors of the present.

Crowley would openly state he is the Worst At Hugs- but honestly, he's got plenty of practise in, in his years away from home. He's still awkward about it, but he's damn more willing to try. He knows this is important too- to give stability to Felix- to bring him back to earth...so to speak.

He returns the hug, one hand moving to the back of Felix's head, through his hair in soothing motions. He doesn't say anything, just stays there, holding him and trying to provide whatever safety and comfort he can. He doesn't plant to rush him, they can stay there all night if Felix needs it- he can absolutely keep him safe from anything that could attack him here.

The hug itself matters less than the intention behind it, in truth. The willingness to persist and the fact that he cares enough to do so. Every patient gesture was a balance to the lifetime of cruelty, slowly tipping towards the point where he could truly trust such gestures for what they were rather than another way to manipulate him.

It does not take all night thankfully, and soon enough he's still, pulling away with a long sigh. Not far, though. His hands don't leave Crowley's arms, as if still afraid he'll vanish if he lets it happen. His eyes are partly downcast in shame as he draws the remaining pieces of his sanity back to the center with a shaky sigh.

"It's all right. I'm...I'll be fine..." he says, fumbling for language after the lapse. He sighs again, deeply, and places a hand on Crowley's cheek. Thank the powers there's no one around to see this. Well, minus the Vieziri, of course.

"Thank you."

Crowley doesn't mind the wait. He can quite literally wait forever. He smiles, a real, genuine one. Not one with the faint fog of smugness or snark, as he tilts his head into the touch. For once, he doesn't really seem to mind letting that side of him be on show.

"Hey, any time."

Felix follows suit with his own version of a smile stripped of pretense and vanity, something slightly crooked and uncertain but glowing with soft warm. Another shuddering breath, this time to consciously try and shake the melancholy off of him like a physical thing, and he sits back, running a hand through his hair. He finally takes in the tableau that Crowley has created. The effect is rather chilling, if he's to be honest, but at least they weren't surrounded by corpses.

"What are we going to do with them?" he says, pressing his lips together slightly, eyes casting about.

Crowley turns and looks over at his rather creepy little statues, almost absently- as if he'd forgotten they were there at all. There's a certain amount of distaste in his tone, when he speaks. After all, they had just tried to kill someone he loved a great deal. He's not a fan.

"Up to you, really. They can go back to normal, or I can just send 'em away," he shrugs. "I don't know where they'd go. You just...send them."

The banishing has never sat especially well with Felix but there is an unavoidable truth to this situation - if they are allowed to persist they will attempt this again with someone else. They had stopped the ritual for the moment, but the fact that the Vieziri were persistent was unavoidable.

Felix stands, slowly, feeling vaguely sick to his stomach as he looked around at them, some still frozen in the act of fleeing. He cannot trust they would not return.

"Get rid of them," he said, closing his eyes, voice hard and low.

Crowley is absolutely not a fan of the banishing. He does it as little as possible, it always feels a little...offhanded. It's not killing, but it's nothing nice, either. Still, he'd put that ball in Felix's court. The decision made, he nods, standing and snapping his fingers. With a soft pop the Vieziri vanish, as if they weren't there at all.

He turns his attention back to Felix, putting a hand on his shoulder, tone gentle, calming.

"C'mon. Let's get you back to the ship."

Goldstone Mingle!

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