paradisa | In the year 232 AD Porphyry was born

[Crowley wasn't surprised by waking up from a long sleep. After all, it wouldn't be the first time he'd done it, and it wouldn't be the last. Unlike the vast majority of castle residents, he'd had a dreamless sleep, one of the pros of being a demon. They didn't have a true imagination. Not enough to conjure up a dream or a nightmare, anyway.

Still, he'd checked the journal to find...nothing. For days, except a few worried comments from people in the town. So this was a castle thing then. Right. He'd probably better check that people aren't dead or something. That would have been unfortunate. There were people he liked here.

And so the demon decided to go check if people were alive or not. Not that he cared. He was just curious. Yeah. Unfortunately for Crowley, he'd decided to check up on Faye, who's nameplate was most decidedly not there any more and who's room was very empty. Fuck. It had happened again]

For anyone who gives a damn, Faye Valentine has gone home.

[He closed his journal and headed back to his room, preparing for his usual plan of drinking until he could pretend he didn't care about anything any more. Drink away the hurt and the bubbling anger at this stupid damn castle that just ruined everyone's lives. ...Except his booze cabinet was empty. This was unusual, but hey he knew a lot of assholes who stole things, so he made the extra trip to the Nines...only to find the booze there gone too. When he speaks into the journal now, he's angry. Very angry]

Right, so where the fuck has all the alcohol gone? Because if someone thinks this is funny, I'm not laughing. You can probably tell from my tone that I'm not laughing. But if you can't, let me clue you in. This is the tone of voice used when someone or something is going to be set on fucking fire if there isn't a reasonable explanation for this.