Six Thousand Moments - DISCONTINUED

Chapter Four

CROWLEY

Demons were not obvious worriers. Normally, out of the two of them, Aziraphale would be the neurotic, hyperactive one while Crowley sat back and pondered his existence as his mind slowly drifted to insanity. And normally, they would both be there to hold the other back, smiling or whispering something so as to pull each other away from the edge of reason. Furthermore, throughout most of life at Druham, Crowley very rarely had moments of true distress.

Up until recently, that is.

A feminine mood overtook Crowley as soon as they — now she — had departed from Chad Vilde. Crowley had been in feminine moods before with Chad, all throughout their relationship, in fact. Women were always the stronger bunch, though the males tended to speculate on the contrary. It had always helped Crowley to feel stronger when she was engaging with Chad in any way, thus she took it upon herself to continue this streak in preparation for Chad's party.

Before the bell rang for the first period (history, the irony), Crowley sprinted back up to her dorm — nobody cared that Crowley was sometimes a woman, yet the title of "Boys Dormitory" still remained (momentarily, Crowley thought that she had beaten the system) — and fixed up her hair in the bathroom mirror. She took it out from her usual up-do and let it fall around her face over her undercut, but it didn't look quite right so she ran it through with a brush three times and then a fourth before she was satisfied. Then she rummaged around a bit for some eyeshadow which she smudged around her eyes, making them smoky and brooding in the way that she liked. It was too late for proper eyeliner now, so that would have to do.

Crowley made it to first period before the last toll of the bell. (Shame that it wasn't a real bell, like in churches — the prefects played some automated Youtube bell sound over the intercoms.) She took root in the seat beside Tracy, who, upon recognising Crowley in her feminine attire, smiled and whispered, 'Looking good, lady.'

Crowley was glad about that. Tracy's friendship was proving ever-greater with each new day.

The History teacher at Druham was a stout, heavily moustached gentleman with enormous feet, which he often slipped into round-toed black oxfords, resulting in the appearance of a rather un-jolly gnome. His name was Mr. Phurphy, and he had more hair on his face than on his head. Since the day that Crowley had started at Druham, she had counted at least seven new liver spots per month in the bald space. At that moment, Mr. Phurphy was clearing his throat aggressively, attempting to gain control of the class. Unfortunately, Phurphy had been failing in that regard since perhaps the summer of 1975.

'Students,' Phurphy called gruffly over the noise. He paused to clear his throat again. 'Ahem, students.'

It was very clear that nobody was paying attention except Crowley. Indeed, Tracy had just leaned over to ask if Crowley had seen Aziraphale since breakfast, so Crowley answered with a shrug and a shake of her head.

'Students of Druham!' Phurphy yelped desperately.

Finally, many heads turned around to listen. Phurphy grumbled something under his breath and wiped a sweat from his brow with a flourish of his green handkerchief. However, even the poor old man could tell that he was about to lose the attention of the class in a few seconds, so he quickly resumed his introduction.

'Ahem,' said Phurphy, 'today, class, we have the pleasure of a visit from a guest lecturer. I have been told that she is a distinguished former student of Druham, who is now working in the field of —' Phurphy's eyes widened for dramatic effect, '— archeology. Now, I would like you all to put your hands together in welcoming the brilliant Ms. Prima Christoph.'

Presently, everybody in the room began to clap, as a woman in her mid-thirties entered the room. Although, the comment about her age was merely a guess, for the woman had an ageless face, absent also of any identifiable ethnicity. She did, however, have brownish skin, and her cheeks were covered in tiny star-shaped freckles. Her eyes were a vivid green, shining as if emeralds had been set there. She wore an ankle-length periwinkle dress with droopy sleeves, and a silver pendant, and her hair flowed down over her shoulders, long and black.

More than a few of the boys (and girls) (and Crowley) were star struck by Ms. Christoph. She looked ethereal, as if out of a dream. The boy to Crowley's right was practically drooling, his eyes upon Ms. Christoph's lips. Crowley was wondering where she had gotten that marvelous dress.

'Hello class,' Ms. Christoph began in a musical voice, 'thank you very much for having me.' There was a collective sigh from the class. One boy even let out a small squeak. Ms. Christoph smiled, resting her elbows on Mr. Phurphy's wooden lectern. 'So, let's begin, shall we? What do you believe defines a person as evil?'

At this, many of the class's gazes became wide and vacant. Crowley was nothing if not a little confused, after all, this was History, not Philosophy. Still, she enjoyed entertaining herself with her answers, so she raised her hand and waited for Ms. Christoph to call on her.

'Yes...?'

'Crowley,' she replied, answering as to her name. She rested her head on the back of her hands. 'I believe that a person is defined as evil based upon their motivations.'

Ms. Christoph's green eyes seemed to further glisten. 'Please, Crowley, do elaborate.'

'Well,' said Crowley, 'if a person pursues an objective simply on the basis of pride, then there is no merit in it. Pride is known as the greatest of the seven sins. But, say someone loses their soulmate. Any criminality for the sake of someone closest to them is just a lover's revenge, right? And what is revenge if not the greatest act of true love? God persecutes the Egyptians for their treatment of the Jews, and that is God's revenge. Seeing as we are taught to follow God, we're taught to believe that revenge isn't evil. The real question is, where do we draw the line?'

Ms. Christoph held the room at attention, saying nothing. Crowley stared eye-to-eye at her, a kind of curiosity pricking his skin. Finally, after holding the silence for a reasonable length of time, Ms. Christoph said, 'Very good, Ms. Crowley. But you miss a key point.'

'And what's that?' asked Crowley, genuinely intrigued.

Ms. Christoph grinned. 'The only ones who can truly define your morality are God... and yourself.'

Crowley blinked. The woman had an unyielding, powerful gaze to her, and Crowley couldn't help but feel as if she had just assessed and judged her whole personality. Whether she had been deemed worthy or not, Crowley didn't know. She stared at her blank page as Ms. Cristoph began the lesson.

Her voice echoed over the room. 'Keep that in mind, class, as we study the fall of Julius Caesar...'

Maybe what Ms. Christoph said was right: only God could tell him whether or not he was good or evil. The only problem with that was that God had condemned demons the moment that they fell from the sky.

END OF CHAPTER

Hey guys, just a short chapter unfortunately.  Sorry for taking so long to update this!  Will get back to you with a new chapter whenever I can.

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As always, love you all <3

- Sophia.