Cold is the steel of the gun that I wield...
A gasp for air, nothing but darkness came to view when he opens his eyes, frantically he tries to move but finds himself trapped, encased in something.. Wood by the sounds he made when pounding against it. Luther's head went ablaze in small whirlwind of flames while he struggles to keep a level-head, the light cast by his changed form now giving him a chance to see through the empty-sockets of his eyes, he was in a coffin.
"Lucy! Lucy! Let's go! Get me out of here!" He shouts at the top of his lungs, suddenly feeling his coffin shaking violently and the sensation of weightlessness coming over him.. Then his body finally slamming against the bottom of the casket, the top flying off once he impacted.
Crowley rubs the back of his skull, peering up at a familiar horse face staring right back down at him, Lucy proceeds to lick his face and neighing happily. He sits up slowly while patting Lucy's snout, scanning his surroundings, he was in the back of a graveyard far from the city's limits, buried with all of the other graves only marked with a wooden cross and no name, at least they had the decency to not drop him in a mass grave. The cowboy gets to his feet, brushing the dirt from his clothes and peering at the bolt protruding from his chest, their wooden shafts and feather fletchings now burning like little torches. He debated on removing them, since he had sustained the injuries in his human form, the wounds would take longer to heal. He also knew if he didn't remove the arrows and also changed back to his normal form, he would be easily recognized by the authorities.
Luther grumbles, clenching his teeth together, if he had any skin on his face he would definitely be wincing. He tears out the bolts quickly, one at a time and cussing at each opportunity, but just as he yanked them from his body he found five more slung into his flesh, another bouncing off of his onyx skull. With a swift turn of his head, he locks onto a group of approaching guards, who were just burying the remaining bodies from the fight and were alarmed by the spectacle he had caused. The cowboy frantically reaches for his pistols, an instinctual move that bit him in the a**, he then holds out his hand open toward the city.
-Beatrice's room.-:
The two pistols start to vibrate violently, sliding from wherever his vampiric companion had placed them and slinging across the room, smacking against the wall, stuck there as their owner tried to pull them through a solid object. One goes off from hitting the wall, putting a hole in the floor. After a minute, they both drop harmlessly to the ground.
Time ran too short to keep waiting, his enemy had already closed their distance and drew swords on him, he was locked in battle without any object to defend himself. He tried his very best to dodge each blow, getting cut over and over as the group all tried to strike at once, making avoidance nearly impossible.
"LUCY! JESUS CHRIST! TORCH EM'!" Luther pleaded through the pain, averting his gaze to a giant fireball tumbling around him, engulfing his attackers as well. The men scream in agony, some running while others rolling on the ground, an angered grunt emanating from his horse as she stomped the poor guards who tried to put the flames out, this would not be the first time Lucy saved his behind. Luther collapses to one knee, only his loyal horse could see the expression of gratefulness he portrayed, he now looks at the scorched corpses, he didn't wish for this to happen but hopefully the ones who finds them will assume a Dragon attack. He reaches out and uses the dangling reigns to bring him back to his feet, weakly pulling his wounded form up on the saddle. He now had slashes, stab wounds, and eight arrows in his body, which was not in anyway good.. This many injuries took far too much energy to repair on top of the ones he sustained in his weakened state.
"Thanks girl.. Take me.. home.. eh?" He utters, yanking the crossbow bolts and pitching them off to the side, the usual inferno that once surrounded his black skull was starting to sputter out, like a charred log near ending it's ability to burn. The cowboy would set off towards the City, it's buildings not too far off on the horizon.
-Hours pass.-
Crowley's body sways back and forth atop his mount as his horse trots slowly up the main street of Haven, only half of his extensive wounds healed over but he still bled profusely from the others, leaving him heavily weakened. His skull for a head sags forward, the occasional flame emerging to drift along it's onyx surface and swiftly fizzle out. He looks forward but can barely make out anything, his vision fairly blurred, he left it to his trusty steed to guide him to safety.. She never failed him before. Luther slumps limply against Lucy's neck when she stops abruptly out front of the Chrysanthemum, which causes her to neigh loudly and stomp her hooves against the front step of the Inn, like she was calling out for help. His body slowly slides to the side and topples from the saddle, landing with a loud thud on the ground, his horse seeming to go into a panic. Lucy frantically nuzzles the unconscious cowboy before lifting her head and neighing even more loudly, standing up on her two rear hooves to get attention for her Master.
...Warm is the blood that my weapon just urges to draw.
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☠⋟ＬＵＴＨＥＲ ＣＲＯＷＬＥＹ⋞☠
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