Crowley: Well, look who's back in the Outer Planes. Gosh, you look miserable. I mean, I've been dechored before, but being dechored AND getting spat out of the Melange Layer? Yeesh.
Aboleth: Crowley, where is everyone? I've tried looking up most of my other contacts, but they're not in any of the regular meeting places.
Crowley: Oh, that's right. You didn't get any updates on what was happening back here while you were below, did you, "Abby"?
Aboleth: …How did you hear that name?
Crowley: Oh, your little scheme's been getting a lot of attention, Aboleth. Sure, you had some defenses against Concordance tracking, but those don't count as much for blocking the view from up here. Heck, if you had actually pulled it off, you might have gotten enough clout to be one of the Big Bosses. Pity that your methodology was garbage.
Aboleth: …Excuse me?
Crowley: Well, you started with a rich noble daughter, which makes some sense. The right allocation of resources could have been used to prepare a fallout shelter with all the fixings. But then you threw away the actual "advantages" in hopes of making the ultimate self-sufficient vessel. I swear, Aboleth, I thought even you would know that's a pipe dream. And devolving her identity to the point where it needs maintenance every few hours? One bad nightmare where she doesn't have enough awareness to wake up in time and the mental state would have collapsed on you, and you KNOW that spirits can't be the primary for piloting a meat-puppet without ringing alarm bells.
Aboleth: It would have worked! …I…miscalculated. I don't understand; how did Ev'aclliál secure a vessel before I did? Something must have happened to her shortly before we fought; it was like she had pinholed down merely days ago.
Crowley: Nah, you still got out first by a wide margin. It's just the Golden Girl has been rolling the dice, playing the big hero, and earning gravitas like nobody's business.
Aboleth: …Golden Girl?
Crowley: That's the nickname that some of the folks in the betting pool have been calling her. I hope you don't mind that I bet against you in that fight. By the way, I'd avoid that area if I were you. A lot of spirits are a bit sore about losing money on "the Pioneer of the Exodus".
Aboleth: …The what?
Crowley: Most of the larger factions holing up in their fortresses of Will and Might, hoping that their defenses will be enough to withstand the Maw's onslaught. For "free agents" like you and I, though, we have to make other plans. Folks are calling it the Exodus: a whole wave of angels, demons, and everything in between looking for ways to hide out in the Melange Layer until this all blows over.
Aboleth: …They have to know that there's no way for them all to get anchors, right? Most of them will waste away their power reserves until they're little more than quintessence to be gobbled up by some wisp somewhere. And even the ones who gain vessels won't have the means to preserve them long enough against the calamities to wait for the Outer Planes to stabilize.
Crowley: As opposed to staying out in the open up here once the Maw gets everywhere? People are looking for any port in a storm, even if it means taking up some…less than favorable circumstances. Of course, the Council is throwing a fit, since this kind of movement is going to make some of the more perceptive mortals notice things, panic, start gathering resources, which will eventually make the peasants panic even though they don't know what's coming. Hell, there's a chance a nation or two will tear itself to pieces even before the Maw gets to it. So, the Council is working to find "acceptable" outlets" in order to meet demand.
Aboleth: "Acceptable outlets"?
Crowley: Let's see. The angels are trying to get the priests to tell more sermons about "guardian angels", protectors that will guard them from vice and peril, in the hopes that the young ones will be more likely to get an Ethos that will take on a refugee. Some are trying to integrate into some dungeons, but that's hit or miss. Others are trying to get tutoring jobs at the universities, while some poor spirits are begging just to be part of some magic battery for a century just for someplace safe. I hear the God of the Goblins is pushing for some of the tribes to contract "spirit companions", in hopes of gathering enough strength for one big push to claim just enough territory to be brought to the negotiating table with the other mortal races. Of course, if a human had to choose between the apocalypse and making peace with goblins, they may just pick the apocalypse to "preserve their honor against allying with monsters."
Aboleth: And is that your plan as well? Become a slave for a mortal?
Crowley: Well, my plan's nothing too ambitious, but I've been finishing putting my affairs in order up here, so I got a nice energy stockpile. Large enough to make the trip while keeping my wits AND hopefully secure my ride. I got my sights on a [Deviant Wanderer] who's down a few fingers and an eye, and has got a drinking problem that he knows will kill him. I'll be packing enough Mana & Essence to heal his wounds, a little Flow trick to stop addiction, and the offer to watch his back. He doesn't quite have the makings of some unstoppable atrocity in the shape of a child, but I think with a little guidance he'll be able to keep a step ahead of the worst of it. Hell, might point him the direction of that Golden Girl, if I think it'll help. So, which faction do you think you'll head to for safety? I think Garzenof might let you be her chew toy for old times sake-
Aboleth: I am planning on returning to the Melange Layer, on my own terms. There was…another candidate I had in mind before I chose Valerie. There will be less time to prepare, but now I know not to make the same mistakes as before.
Crowley: Really, you're going to try a repeat performance? Well, if you got the energy reserves for it, more power to you.
Aboleth: …I spent most of my resources on my first attempt. I will need to collect more in order to maintain coherence long enough to establish a contract.
Crowley: Oh, so "on your own terms", but with someone else's money? Shoot, I'd do that too if I thought I could swing it. So, which sucker who's still talking to you are you planning on tricking into funding your next expedition?
Aboleth: …The First Tenant of Demonkind is to not turn ones back on their brothers, to unite to defy those who would enslave or destroy us.
Crowley: … Aboleth, I'm not sure I'm following you. I mean, it sounds like you're asking for charity, but I know you're smarter than that, so that would mean that you're asking for something on credit. And you should be smarter than that.
Aboleth: You would turn your back on your kind?
Crowley: Word on the street is you took out quite a few loans of power reserves before dropping into the Melange Layer and leaving your creditors for Maw-food. Guess the Tenant's only important when you say it is. So, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask for "cash up front", as it were.
Aboleth: …I have bolt-holes of Angelic artifacts hidden in safe places. I was hoping to save them for bartering when I returned after this atrocity passed, but I knew I couldn't fence them quickly enough for my plans. I can let you know their locations in exchange for-
Crowley: Even if you aren't lying, you're putting the onus on ME to get liquidity out of your "valuable artifacts"? I do not have the time or the inclination to offload your trash, you can do that yourself.
Aboleth: …I think you will find my cooperation beneficial to your endeavors. Or at least, you'll be less likely face…critical setbacks.
Crowley: Are you threatening me?
Aboleth: The journey to the Melange Layer is harrowing, even without interference. A distraction at the wrong moment could cost you everything. That is, of course, assuming that the Council isn't informed of your whereabouts beforehand.
Crowley: …You know what? You're absolutely right.
Aboleth: Glad that you finally see reason-
Crowley: If we go to the Council together, they'll probably give me a full clean slate in exchange for your sorry hide. One less thing to worry about on my end. Granted, one would hope that the Records would get wiped clean when the Maw passes through, but with my luck there will be some library spirit who thinks my criminal record is worth preserving until the next Era.
Aboleth: …What are you talking about?
Crowley: I did mention that there were a LOT of interested parties monitoring your progress, right? Well, the Council learned you got booted back to the Outer Planes, and they have made it VERY clear that they are rather interested in a private "debriefing session". Followed by a very public disassociation. Sounds like it'll be quite the show, for the people still here to see it, at least.
Aboleth: Are they trying to make me some kind of scapegoat for the Exodus? Some self-righteous angel is trying to make self-preservation a sin?
Crowley: Nah, they ain't pinning the Exodus on you. I mean, your little stunt may have accelerated the time table, but nobody's denying it was going to happen sooner or later. They're not upset about the girl either; "cooperation" with the mortals is practically going to be codified in the next few weeks. Shoot, one of the angels kept going on about totally mind-stating some kid to "act as an unfiltered example of righteousness and purity" or some other bull. Hell, they're not even mad about the mass slaughter. The Plan's essentially been put on hold for a while, and your little "excursions" weren't even enough to stir the pot on any geopolitical level.
Aboleth: But then why does the Council wish to see me disassociated?
Crowley: You went after the Scions, "Abby".
Aboleth: …
Crowley: Yeah, all those little Hearts and Candles and Diamonds and Bloomlings, all those Deific fragments just sitting there waiting to be harvested. Do you think the Gods and Weavers left those on the Melange Layer just for you? Well, they must love you VERY much.
Aboleth: …The Council has established that there are no special protections for the mortal-integration experiments-
Crowley: Those rules were designed so that Gods couldn't throw a fit every time a bandit or war or dungeon or stray spirit killed one of their little bundles of joy. But when some demon with a plan uses their skills to specifically hunt them down one by one, it changes the game a bit, doesn't it? The members of the Council are suddenly a lot more attentive to their little connections to the Melange Layer for some unknown reason, and they wish to make it clear to any other fugitives that your "winning strategy" will not be tolerated. Hells, I heard Flower's willing to grind you into fertilizer for even touching her little Golden Girl.
Aboleth: So, they'll be going after Ev'aclliál and her vessel as well?
Crowley: Nah, she's got…another thing going on. Heck, the Council can't ban it since the Council can't even agree on what exactly was even done to her. Besides, Aurora just handed her a fragment just for fun; no harvesting necessary. Hmm, would that make her a "Blooming Heart" now? Meh, doesn't matter. Now, I'm not exactly built for bounty hunting, but I bet I could still hogtie your recently decohered form if I felt I was going to experience any…unexpected expenses. You're not going to make things expensive for me, are you, Aboleth?
Aboleth: …No.
Crowley: …Swear it, then. Or else I'll give it a go just so I can sleep easy before I leave.
Aboleah: Surely you can't be-
Crowley: Does it look like I'm joking?
Aboleth: …I, Aboleth, swear upon my name and my very essence, to not knowingly interfere with or disrupt your preparation and passage to the Melange Layer, nor send or alert any other entities, knowingly or not, to do likewise.
Crowley: That's better. Now, most of the fortresses have been locking up, and everybody's crowding up the "public" pathways to the Melange Layer, so I suggest you be on your way.
Aboleth: …So, this is it, then? No solidarity, no trust? The last few millennia count as nothing?
Crowley: Screw you, you failed excuse for a blackmailer. Don't you see? Everyone's playing your game now, "pioneer". This is the 7th Era, so roll your dice, call in your favors, and burn your bridges, because even the immortals aren't promised tomorrow. You got on the boat first…but now you're back on the shore, with nothing to show for it. Now scram.
Aboleth: …Mark my words, you will live to regret this.
Crowley: …I certainly hope so.
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