Character Meet and Greet

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"You can design and create, and build the most wonderful place in the world. But it takes people to make the dream a reality."

I. Exploring Main Street! Take a trip through a little town taken straight from 1890's America. Visit the shops, dine at the restaurants- but don't forget you are here on a mission. As an Apprentice, you will need to gather some supplies. A weapon, or tool for producing magic.

But we understand if that corn dog cart on Market Street is your first stop.

II. Apprentice Class 101! Practice your spell casting and weaponship on the open commons behind the Firehouse. Sparring, casting or just general confusion abound here. Try not to hit anything or...anyone, the paint on the infirmary is still drying.

III. Look out! A level 2 corroded monster has managed to get onto Main Street! Protect the citizens and defeat the cur, and please watch the damage, the paint is still wet!

IV. One Little Spark! Go ahead, show us the strength of your imagination and come up with your own scenarios. Just, stay out of the Corroded Lands...if possible.

Comments

[serpentinthegarden]

Crowley didn't consider himself the least bit adorable. He was a terrific bad ass and hot if anything. Being 'adorable' was more in the realm of angels... which explained why Aziraphale wiggling his toes like that had come across to him as adorable.

"You've never gone to sleep?"

The question was asked in a rush of surprise as he slid the angel's jacket up over his shoulders where it, predictably, became entangled in his wings. He started on the right wing first, guiding it gently around the fabric, and smoothing down those feathers that were ruffled out of place by the jacket's passing over them.

"You've been on Earth for eons and you were never tempted to try it? Not even once?"

Then the left was given the same treatment, but much more slowly as from some reason the feathers on this side seemed far more determined to hold on.

"Or do you mean you have slept you hadn't meant to?"

[blessedarethebookmakers]

"Oh that is unpleasant." He doesn't like the jacket sliding over his wings and it's difficult to stay still, especially when Crowley is smoothing out his feathers, the contact making his wings twitch. It's so close. So intimate. Though he prefers it to the rumpled feel of bent and ruffled feathers.

"No not really. Well, not on purpose. Well-- not that I remember." Closing ones eyes and waking up in a slightly different place is hardly sleep exactly. It's more like a bad decision. "Evil never sleeps so Good must be constantly vigilant." He sighs in relief as his other wing is slowly freed, that feels much better. Though he still has a shirt and a vest to go and he never realized there would be a drawback to so many layers.

"It's a pity good didn't realize you were such a reprobate," he says, turning to give Crowley a far fonder smile than he meant to.

[serpentinthegarden]

"Evil sleeps some times. Especially when you have to survive through the 14th century. Nothing good came of the 14th century!"

His lips curled into a little frown that Aziraphale had just used the word unpleasant. It could have been far worse had any of these feathers become caught and tugged free. He had been so careful but had it hurt anyway? What did one do for a pulled feather? The thought of soothing those aches away with a kiss only deepened with that fond smile.
How irritating when he found himself actually doing something else!

"We might have to take to wearing robes again. Horribly out of fashion but they were easier to get around a pair of wings."

He slid away, just enough to open up a place beside him on the pillow which was then given a pat just like the bed had been earlier.

"It seems to me that good could sleep, so long as evil was also sleeping."

[blessedarethebookmakers]

"I think I would rather suffer than wear a robe." He flops beside him on his side, wings stretched out behind him as he rubs his cheek against the softness of it and shifts until he gets comfortable; eyes closed and sighing.

"The 14th century was an absolute nightmare. I would have slept if I could have managed it but there was corruption everywhere and we put in quite a bit of overtime trying to tempt... convince people to do good. I was even a monk for a time but the abbot kept looking up my skirts whenever I was on a ladder."

Which wasn't often, truth be told. And it was probably because the man was looking for those silk undergarments he ought not to be wearing as someone who had taken a vow of poverty. But poverty was a human invention and so he didn't think he should be forced to take full part in it.

"And that may be true but Evil is sneaky and how does Good know it won't get up when Good has its eyes closed unless Good takes precautions?"

As his eyes were closed right now and had been since he laid down because if he couldn't see temptation it wouldn't be so difficult to stay here and be tempted. It wasn't as if he didn't know what Crowley were up to.

"In other words, my dear." He slid a hand around Crowley's waist, pressing them a little closer. "Don't even think about it."

[serpentinthegarden]

Crowley nodded, feeling much the same way about it, maybe more so. He preferred to wear the fashions of the age he was in not the ones from the centuries he had passed through. But Aziraphale's eyes were tightly closed. He might have felt the motion but he wouldn't have seen it. He also wouldn't have seen the bright smirk that suddenly appeared on Crowley's face at that confession.

"You had a Abbot trying to look up your skirts?"

Deep, deep smirk.

"Good taste that Abbot but really! That's very Canterbury Tales."

Crowley's interpretation of the event might have been less 'close to the truth' and more 'wish fulfillment'. And telling a demon not to think about it was like drawing a bright red highlighter arrow right to it... all he could do was think about it! Like that tree in the middle of the garden, don't touch THIS... flashing neon sign to do just that!
Now the it in question might have been different than expected. He found he wanted that closeness back. To be snuggled up on Aziraphale's shoulder, to be able to set his forehead against the angel's and to breath in the comforting scent of the man... and oh, temptation accomplished! He was pulled close as if he had any intention at all of escaping.

Just as he had hoped his forehead came to rest on Aziraphale's and, as if creating a mutual pact, his hand landed on the angel's hip in a 'if you move I'll know it too' way and not at all in a 'I'd love to cuddle you again way'.

"How did you handle it, that Abbot?"

He decided to ask to cover his actions and maybe get an amusing bedtime story out of the deal as well!

[blessedarethebookmakers]

"Well what do you think the Canterbury Tales were based off of? Not that one in specific but..." He trailed off as their foreheads touched and he could feel Crowley's breath ghosting over his face. He was tempted to grab a little inspiration, but that would only go downhill fast in this position, so he resisted.

"With--" He frowned and moved that hand up to his waist. "-- a liberal use of straight pins, and generally avoiding ladders. But they had the sweetest apples that grew over the garden wall and it was heaven compared to barely bread and thin soup. The beer was amazing though. They kept bees too. Nothing like fresh honey. And bees sing very beautifully if you know how to listen." Which he did because he was an Angel. It was what they did. Listened. Loved. In his case far too much.

"Have you ever tasted pure honey, Crowley?"

[serpentinthegarden]

Crowley's smirk transformed into a snicker as his eyes began to close.

"I always wondered why they ended up naming them 'safety pins'."

His voice was beginning to take on the lazy drawl of one fighting back against the evils of sleep, or the goodness of sleep, whichever it was, so Aziraphale's question was answered with dulled senses and far too truthfully!

"Once, a few hours ago."

The currently not-so-wily serpent admitted.

"On a park bench."

[blessedarethebookmakers]

He is adorable. Completely and utterly. Aziraphale can't help but smile and reaches up to stroke his fingers through the hair at his temple, glancing over the curling snake before stroking the back of his ear with gentle fingertips. Honey indeed. He couldn't help but be flattered by it.

He supposed he should leave it there. No, he knew he should. But the problem with the feeling that no one was watching was that he was starting to care less and less. And what was a little further anyway? He shifted just a bit closer, cradling the back of his neck.

"That wasn't honey, my dear." He leaned in just a little further. "That was ambrosia." And kissed him very lightly, lingering there to taste his breath.

[serpentinthegarden]

Crowley coiled as close as he could, enjoying the ambrosia which had surprisingly graced his lips and sending a flicker of tongue chasing after the sensation once it had gone as if in human form he could still taste the air. As it turned out it the action still worked surprisingly well to judge distance. Since there was barely any space left between himself and Aziraphale he ended up discovering those lips again, first with that searching lick, and then again when he moved back in for another taste of that wonderful food of the Gods.

[blessedarethebookmakers]

Oh, this was why he was hesitant. This is dangerous. Exceedingly so. The little flicker across his lips sends chills through him but even more when Crowley comes in again. Well, in for a penny. He opens his mouth a little, inviting him to come explore further if he wants and slides his hand down, exploring the demon's side, his waist, the length of his leg which he pulls over his own so there is almost no space between them now.

[serpentinthegarden]

Any passing thought he might have had about sleeping was well and truly banished now, replaced by others much less safe and almost certainly wicked enough to worry an angel. Slow down Crowley, not too much, not too fast...

He told himself these things but the invitation was there! Right in front of him and it was simply too much temptation for a demon to resist.

His leg directed over the angel's he moved in so there was no space left between them at all. Hip to hip, chest to chest, some what vaguely reminiscent of the wrestling deities statue in his apartment in that the only bits free of the embrace were his darkly flared wings. Aziraphale's hand had moved down, his moved up, clutching at the fabric covering the angel's back where he thought it might just stay out of trouble. And the kiss was deepened as the slightly parted lips had offered, slowly and with an appreciative sigh of delight.

[blessedarethebookmakers]

"Mmmm!" Though he was anticipating it and even braced for the inevitability, the surprise touch of his tongue, the movement-- There was wine in his mouth, good quality and Aziraphale felt heady with it; the slick heat felt so decadent. This was a sin. He knew it was. Especially since that hand clutching at the back of his shirt just spurred him on, made him want to sin more. To move closer. To touch and explore.

But was it selfish to have so tempted a demon and then to pull back? Or perhaps, his purpose here was to seduce Crowley to the light? Could he do that? Could he try? He would still have to leave without him but--! Surely this world could use an angel or two.

No, that was absolutely ridiculous. There was justification and then there was desperation. There was inspiration and then there was this. And this was far more than simple inspiring.

With a soft groan he pulled back, but only to disengage. Their faces were still close, though his eyes were still closed and he ran his hand back to settle on Crowley's waist then, accidentally slipping against skin that had been exposed when his shirt had apparently ridden up a little and that too was tempting to sample.

"Tell me how this is good," he murmured. "Tell me how I can do this for the benefit of Heaven. Please." He was good with words. He had imagination, which was something Heaven was severely lacking, including himself. It was looked down on actually. One didn't need to imagine, one just had to do. Follow orders. No creating something whole cloth out of God's perfection.

But Crowley could, and right now he needed those words more than anything.

[serpentinthegarden]

He laid right where he was when the moment of disappointment came. His leg still wrapped over Aziraphale's, hands still clutching at the fabric, the sweet taste of the angel's mouth still burning his tongue... or was something actually on fire? Crowley cast a quick look around, just to make certain there hadn't been another 'incident' like that one at the weapons shop. That he hadn't in some stray moment lit the bed on fire, or the drapes... the carpet... but all was as it had been before. Elegantly Princess themed and untouched by the smoldering demon. It had just been the heat of that touch on his skin, the hint of passions yet to come interrupted by old fears.

In a way he could understand it. He had been an angel once, a very long time ago, and the fear of always having to do the right thing or else was a barely remembered one. But he found it frustrating as Hell to have been so close, again, only to have to stop... to think. There were times for thinking and then there were times for acting angel!

His gold eyes focused on Aziraphale's face, the hopeful pink of his lips and the lines of worry that creased his forehead. How could he do this for the benefit of Heaven? It was a plea. Lie to me, demon. Sweet little lies...

Crowley sucked in a breath, exhaling the names.

"Adam and Eve."

The names from their shared past were ones he knew Aziraphale would remember. Other humans had come and gone, been flashes in the pan for them, but those two were special. The very first of their kind.

"You remember them, sweet kids really. Eve had a laugh that you could hear on the other side of the garden. No wonder Adam was so fond of her."

His head drifted side to side a little as he spoke, as if the story required the rocking motion in order to be a good one.

"They weren't kicked out of the garden for being into each other. That was the point. God created them to be together. Adam was lonely so God said, hey I can fix that, and created Eve from one of his ribs. They were forced to leave for breaking the rules, eating from that tree..."

Still one of his finest temptations, he thought.

"What they shared though was something unique. They were devoted to each other, absolutely. I mean, he fought a lion for her! With your sword admittedly, but that was still a big lion to face off against even with it. They were the first of their kind to do what they did. To trust each other that much to share in the ultimate expression of devotion. It didn't help Heaven, didn't hurt it any either."

His weaving stopped as he regarded the angel and those closed eyes of his. Lies, he was meant to be telling lies. Why then had all of this sounded so sincere?

"It's the same with us. You can't do this for the benefit of Heaven... This isn't about Heaven, or Hell, this is about us and whatever crazy, mixed up thing is happening between us! We're like them. We are the first to go off and try something new!"

Crowley's searching gaze was met with closed eyes. Had Aziraphale understood? Did any of this mean anything to the angel? It began to rankle that those pale blue eyes were closed against him, against his nature. Demons were ugly things, cast down from Heaven, meant to be sins turned away from and abandoned to the pit. He began to worry that was the only way Aziraphale saw him. That the angel's eyes were closed because he was entirely unforgivable, entirely unworthy of him. The demon's voice softened, the impassioned speech maker's inflection taking on the hint of a tremble.

"Aziraphale, open your eyes?"

Please?

[blessedarethebookmakers]

Oh that was a beautiful sentiment. Crowley was trying so very hard to make this work. But it was more the truth than a lie. Maybe not reality, but the kind of reality Crowley wanted it to be. Just the two of them making something new in a strange new world. He wanted it to be that way too. At least a part of him did. To throw off everything and just live here like this, experimenting, discovering, becoming.

But it was terrifying, too. Terrifying in a way he couldn't explain. Like he could see the chasm and falling into it would be easy as thought and then what--? He knew that he was a terrible angel, hedonistic and too much given to small pleasures of humanity. And while he might have come close to that line and craned his neck to look over it, he had never crossed it.

And he couldn't.

Not even for Crowley's sake.

Especially not for Crowley's sake because it wouldn't even be for the demon, but for himself. And for that measure of selfishness, he would truly be damned.

But he couldn't bring himself to say so. To destroy that hope. That dream. An angel shouldn't actively destroy happiness, should they? Even if it did belong to a demon. He smiles instead, leaning forward to nuzzle Crowley's throat and then just rests there a moment, breathing in the scent of him.

"It sounds wonderful, my dear."

But his eyes never open.

[serpentinthegarden]

"Yeah. Great story."

The words were clipped as he waffled between pretending this was ok and storming off in a rage. If he too could just close his eyes he might forget that growing feeling of pain and rejection in his stomach but he couldn't. This moment was beginning to feel a lot like this room, all pink and perfect, built to fulfill some one's fantasy of what a Princess's chamber might look like... but it was all fake. It wasn't a room for royalty and spending a few vacation nights in it would not turn you into a princess.

"But that's all it is, isn't it? It could never be anything else..."

He stirred, untangling himself from the angel with remarkable ease. Tired and still more drunk than sober he teetered dangerously as he stood up far too quickly from the bed.

"I don't need this! And I don't need you!"

These were the lies, spoken in a fit of exasperation to hide the pain. Then he did stumble though he managed to catch himself on the table before he had an unhappy meeting with the ground. His shades were resting here on the table's surface and in one quick motion he grabbed them and slid them over his eyes. Eyes far too lowly to even be graced by Aziraphale's, apparently!

"The room is yours angel! I'll find some where else! And when the corruption sends another one of those monsters into town I won't even think about lifting a hand to help you! You can ask Heaven for help, for all the good it would do!"

He didn't mean it. Every word was just fury and rage, but he spoke them as he stomped across the room to the door.

[blessedarethebookmakers]

He let him go. It was remarkably easy in fact, and somewhat of a relief despite the harsh words that hit like stones. it was better this way, honestly. Better the searing light of truth than the fantasy that could never be. That he couldn't allow it to be. For whatever reason and perhaps a hopeless one in the end. Perhaps this was all for nothing. Surely, a part of him said, God would see some use for it. Not that he expected a reward, hardly that. But some sort of --direction. Benchmark. Check box for yes.

He winced slightly as the door slammed and then opened his eyes to a room far too large and far too empty. Nothing he will ever be able to afford on his own and far too luxurious for an angel anyway. He gets out of bed, flexing his wings absently, then, having nowhere else to go, sits in the chair. The bottle of wine surprises him. He'd forgotten it was there.

it would be a shame to let it go to waste.

He drinks it down then, staring into the emptiness, the silence falling all around him.