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

[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.