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A pair of feet shuffled blindly down the dirty street. Their owner knew not where they were going, nor did he especially care. His head and heart were in other places, hidden places where they could bleed the cerise eons upon the snow-white of his happiness. They wouldn’t be coming back any time soon, he sensed, perhaps never at all. What was there for them to even return to, anyway?
Aziraphale hardly noticed as he approached the barrier, letting his legs take the responsibility of making sure he walked beside and not into it. For some time, he shambled alongside the barrier, following its gentle curve around the periphery of downtown. Where was it taking him? Hopefully somewhere quieter, he thought, somewhere where one could finally allow themself to cry.
Suddenly, a dull thudding filled Aziraphale’s right ear.
He initially ignored it, no longer able to rouse himself to the task of dealing with the city’s dilemmas. Everything here was a problem, he’d realized, a torment designed specifically to smash apart his fragile heart. For a while, he’d resisted, but today marked the day when the onslaught had ultimately become too much. With one final, Herculean exertion, it had assaulted his soul, blasting off the last of the flaking angelic veneer to reveal the amorphous, ashy apathy hidden just beneath.
The thudding started up again, this time far more thunderous than before.
Aziraphale swiveled his head toward the sound, staring at its source with a corpse’s gaze. A figure in black banged against the barrier, a flash of red bobbing above them with each swell of effort. Red. How ironic, how sardonic, that they had to have that red, his red…
His red hair.
A trembling hand came to Aziraphale’s mouth.
How?
He rushed to the barrier, pressing his other hand to it. Pushing, pushing, how hard he pushed, trying to force his way through it, to his soft touch, to his unscathed body, to him. Yet, the unfeeling barrier stood firm, unmoved even by the throws of love.
Crowley was yelling something now, but Aziraphale couldn’t hear a thing. He watched Crowley’s lips race behind the barrier, forming words faster than he could decipher them. At some point, a singular ‘fuck’ was said, but Aziraphale couldn’t tell whether it was inspired by felicity or frustration.
Aziraphale removed the hand from his mouth and pointed at his ear. Then, he pulled out his phone from his overcoat pocket.
You’re alive?
The holy water.
You died.
I saw you.
I don’t understand.
Once the texts were sent, he peeked over the top of his phone to check that it all wasn’t just a delusion of the decaying mind. Lo and behold, Crowley, his partner, his companion, his love and his life, was still there, still watching, still waiting, still wonderfully, wonderfully real.
Aziraphale began to cry.
@evitcrnity/ Ineffable Husbands Strike Back
It’s become almost unbearable now. Fighting off this…poison, or whatever the hell it is.
Crowley is on the verge of breaking, he can feel it in every ounce of his being. He’s trying so hard not to succumb…what would Aziraphale think of him if he did? He can’t bear the thought of disappointing him. And he doesn’t revel in the notion of hurting anyone, either.
Aziraphale.
If only the man could be with him now. His angel is the one that keeps him sane, anchored. He’s terrified that something will happen to the other man, but he tries so hard to hold it all together. Crowley has managed to find one side of the barrier that seems to be keeping them all trapped, and he touches it, a feeling of longing stabbing at his core.
Almost as if on cue, a figure appears on the other side, and it’s just in that moment that Crowley realizes the damned thing is see-through. The figure slowly comes closer, and oh sweet mercy, it’s the very man he’s been so longing for.
Banging his fists against the barrier, Crowley cries out, hoping desperately to get his lover’s attention.
“Aziraphale! Zira, it’s me. It’s me, I’m right here!” In the split second that the angel finally looks his way, Crowley’s insides seem to melt, and he has to try really, really hard not to cry like the dramatic, sentimental bastard he is.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you. I’m so glad you’re alright…”
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Aziraphale was alone.
Aziraphale, ex-Principality and divine deserter, was absolutely, abjectly alone.
It was okay. This was okay. He’d done this countless times before, hadn’t he? Like the 14th century! Oh, that 14th century, so dark and dreary and lonely. Crowley had sniffed out the century’s stagnation mere months into its first year and had consequentially made himself incredibly sparse. Only occasionally would he turn up at Aziraphale’s doorstep, hissing in disgust as they tried to enjoy the last dregs of a watery ale together. Then, after ranting well into the night about how horribly humdrum the humans had become, he’d disappear again into the darkness, not to be seen again for another decade or more.
Yes, Aziraphale had been without Crowley before, many times before if he was being frank. But this time was different. This time, the goodbye was final. This time, the loss was eternal. This time, the heart was finally allowed to cry.
Aziraphale wrung his hands as he shuffled along, feeling the sandy grit rub roughly against his skin. He wasn’t sure how much of it was the city’s grime and how much was the last charred remnants of Crowley’s being, still clinging to him even in death. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about any of this, not Crowley’s death, not this nightmarish hellscape, not being so, so alone. He wanted to go back to a week ago when Crowley had been sitting on his bed, running his fingers through his feathers, kissing him, comforting him, making him feel wanted and loved. What miracle would it take to bring that moment back, to recreate it and cement himself in it for time immortal? What would it take to replace an eternity alone with that one, single sweet second?
Aziraphale almost didn’t notice the familiar figure a few metres ahead, and when he did, he sighed.
Brilliant. Just brilliant.
What would have put him on edge an hour ago now left his heart and mind unstirred. He was too tired for this, too tired for any of this, really. But, as was his nature, he squared his shoulders and swallowed, readying himself for the obligatory pleasantries.
“Oh,” he said flatly, his gaze not quite as sharp as it usually was. “Hello, Gabriel. Wonderful…ehm…baseball bat you’ve found for yourself, there. I guess we all really do need something to defend ourselves with out here, don’t we?”
Zone Two/Nightmares - Closed Starter for Aziraphale @evitcrnity
He had initially thought that this place was akin to Hell, after his first few weeks being trapped here. But a chance encounter with a surprisingly calm and unthreatening Aziraphale had brought the reality of it all into stark relief. It was irritating, being trapped in this place through unknown means, but it hadn’t been utterly painful. Humans were, well, humans, but at least he had been coming around to the idea that he wasn’t being directly punished.
When he found himself in downtown DC, in the middle of the night, outside of his own ability and volition, however, Gabriel realized that this city was closer to Hell than he had realized.
That had been several days ago - how many, the archangel had long lost count.
Fear was not something he really felt at all - it had been an emotion beneath him, something humans had to deal with more than he had. He’d divorced himself from it and most other emotions that were unpleasant long ago, before time had even begun.
That had been before he’d turned a corner and seen his long lost brother standing there. Impossibly beautiful, even as the Fall contorted his elegant features; dressed in the finery befitting the Morningstar, the wounds Michael had given him when she had cast him out - and behind him, the legions of those two thirds of the fallen stars rising. The smell of ozone, burning flesh and brimstone filled the air - and Gabriel reached for a sword that had long since been set aside for the bureaucracy of Heaven.
Hello, brother. Nice of you to join us. You…will be joining us, won’t you? After that terrible mix up, letting those two end the War…And you know what happened the last time an Archangel wanted a war and failed, don’t you? Not a very…divine thing to want, Gabriel.
Sweat beaded his brow, and his eyes glanced sharply to the side. They stood there at his side as well, dark hair and soft features marred with the burns of hellfire. They went by a different name now - this was impossible. He’d only just seen Beelzebub not a year prior when this had all went down; how could they be -
He was deeply ashamed to admit that he had fled, that night. Madness reigned the streets, and he was one lone angel against the unholy horde. Unarmed, surrounded by feeble and witless humans, there was no way to avoid a catastrophe in the street unless he had ran and found a place to sort out a strategy.
For six days, Gabriel had been fighting them off. No matter where he moved to, they seemed to happen upon him. Without a weapon, with strict orders to not make himself known to the humans around him, he had shockingly taken to actually protecting a small group of humans inside a building. You couldn’t protect the lower choirs before from this legion of the damned. But these humans don’t have anything to do with that war. They were meant to be caught up in the second war, not this one!
None of them knew the truth - for the moment. Without a sword, he was made to use what angelic power he dared in the presence of these mortals - all of them appeared to be hiding from their own fears. Lucifer and the demons would be on them in an instant if they found them here in this office building.
Office buildings. At least it was somewhat of a familiar setup. Unfortunately, he was not the strategist, Michael was - and she was nowhere to be seen. He was clever, of course, but this was madness - and apparently, he came to understand, humans needed actual food and water to sustain their lives. The three children holed up with a couple of adults had began to whine about it after a few days.
And so, today, on the sixth day, the Archangel Gabriel was out in the streets near dusk, running an actual errand for these irritating humans that he absolutely had not any concern for whatsoever. Armed with what they had called a “baseball bat” - which he may or may not have blessed just in case he had to face down literally Satan - he went around to these shops that offered food - which he still had an extreme distaste for, but at least the children would stop whining about it.
#ic#w/ gabriel#level 2#death mention tw#nightmares tw#war mention tw#injury tw#hwevent10#long post#heavens-top-brass
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Level up, featuring Aziraphale: gore tw, death tw, insect tw, drug mention tw, injury tw, nightmares tw
Oh downtown, dear, sweet downtown, place of pleasant strolls taken under pretty parasols and scene of spreads as scrumptious as they were splendid. What a relief it was to see its familiar streets once again!
Aziraphale folded his wings against his back and filled his lungs to the brim with the acrid, gasoline-infused air. But oh, to him, how fresh it was! There was nothing that could ever hope to be fresher, not any salty seaside mist, not any crisp mountain chill, not anything at all!
He let the air linger in his lungs for a few moments, surely polluting at least one poor alveolus in the process. Finally, when his chest began to ache with spent breath, he released it and became aware again of his surroundings. Oh, that over there was strange…and that. Oh goodness. Oh goodness, oh heavens, oh Lord above.
Aziraphale’s serene downtown had become anything but.
Horrors of all shapes and sizes ran free, cavorting around like mad cultists paying homage to their terrifying, ravenous god. Each one feverishly ran down a target, a fresh body with which to fill its overlord’s bottomless belly. An enormous three-headed dog plucked up one woman by the skull, pointing its snouts to the sky as it gulped her down whole. Another man ran by, desperately swatting at the horde of mosquitos that were persistently draining him of his lifeblood. Without hesitation, Aziraphale raised a hand and snapped his fingers, putting forth his first miracle since arriving in Washington. With this simple gesture, the man suddenly started smelling pungently of that wonderful bugbane citronella. The mosquitos hovered around him for a moment more, confused by the sudden scandalous scent, before finally scattering to the wind.
“I never quite knew what She was thinking when She made mosquitos. The others made sense, but mosquitos…mosquitos, dear boy, are just a nuisance.”
The man nodded wordlessly before scurrying off to find shelter. Aziraphale allowed a satisfied smile to grace his face as his heart whelmed with that wonderful, warm feeling that for so long, had been the only thing he’d lived for. That feeling of assisting, of helping, of being some force of good in the world was the angels’ drug, one that Aziraphale was still susceptible to despite his newfound independence.
The high didn’t last for long.
Aziraphale turned to resume his journey toward the Capitol when he saw Crowley standing in the middle of the street. Odd, he thought, Crowley didn’t mention getting this far. And where has the Doctor flitted off to? Aren’t they supposed to be together?
A hooded figure stepped out from behind Crowley’s silhouette. Aziraphale squinted to try to see their face past the shadow of their black robe, but the darkness hugged their features, sheltering them from his prying gaze.
“You there,” Aziraphale called, pointing at the figure. “Whatever do you think you’re doing?”
They didn’t answer, instead roughly grabbing the back of Crowley’s neck with one gloved hand. Their other hand disappeared into their cloak, emerging a moment later with a shimmering, glimmering crystal pitcher clutched between their leather-clad fingers. Contained within it was water clearer than the glass in which it swirled.
Aziraphale staggered a step forward and the cloaked figure threateningly brought the pitcher up over Crowley’s head. Crowley gritted his teeth as the water sloshed menacingly just above his coiffed crown of fiery red hair.
Aziraphale opened his mouth to call out, to caterwaul, to cry for his love’s life, but fell silent for fear that it would just provoke Crowley’s captor. Instead, his hand went to his phone and tapped out two quick texts.
Don’t move.
I’ll be right there, dear. Just stay put.
“Get outta here, angel,” Crowley said, hanging his head low so that Aziraphale could just see the amber of his eyes peaking above the rim of his glasses. Oh, that audacious amber, once so full of spunk, of mischief, of the essence of life itself, now rendered so dejected, so terribly, terribly resigned. “Just leave me.”
“Absolutely not,” Aziraphale protested.
I’ve made that mistake far too many times before.
Aziraphale felt the miracle manifest, hovering and buzzing at his fingertips. He raised his hand, pointer finger and thumb crossed, and let its power loose upon the world.
The world, for its part, did not care.
No shadows dissolved, no shades dissipated, not even the water in the pitcher thought to disappear upon the air’s dry, thirsting tongue. Everything remained as it had been, everything except the quick, flickering edge of the water. In the moment Aziraphale had spent exerting himself, it had drawn closer, closer, ever-closer to the pitcher’s spout.
“You don’t need to do this,” Aziraphale pleaded to the hooded figure. “Not to him. It was all my fault, really. I – “
The hooded figure tilted the pitcher and let loose a deluge of holy water upon Crowley’s head.
He didn’t disappear immediately. No, just enough of Aziraphale’s light had kissed his skin over the years, working into the flesh and infusing it with its nourishment, its healing, its strength. Crowley’s body now drew upon that strength as it sizzled under the acidic water, fighting, resisting, persisting before ultimately burning away into nihility.
Aziraphale could see that Crowley was trying not to scream in front of him, biting his lip so hard that a small trickle of blood had begun to run down his chin. At this point, Aziraphale stopped thinking and charged toward him, just barely catching him in his arms as the cloaked figure let go of his neck.
“I – I can fix this, “ Aziraphale stammered. “Heal you.”
Crowley tried to say something, but his voice was gone, the cords long ago burned out from his throat. Realizing this, he instead began to weakly shake his head.
No, darling. It’s over. It’s fine. Go on now, get out of here, go and live. For you. For us.
And Aziraphale, beneath the great façade of hope and faith, knew that he was right.
He held Crowley close to his chest, whispering into his ear as he lapsed from the world one final time.
“I love you.”
#gore tw#death tw#insect tw#drug mention tw#injury tw#nightmare tw#self-para#m: aziraphale#long post#level 2#hwevent10
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fallenangelsxxx:
Crowley-> Aziraphale: That…could be a good thing, honestly. Not sure I want him breathing down our necks, so to speak.
Crowley-> Aziraphale: I wouldn’t be so sure, love. Considering everything else that’s happened…and to more than just the two of us.
Crowley-> Aziraphale: This is beyond any punishment for you and I. Too many are involved.
Crowley-> Aziraphale: You know me, always did have a bit of a flair for the dramatic.
Crowley-> Aziraphale: As the kids say, “make me.”
Aziraphale –> Crowley: You’re probably right, just as you always are.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: Oh, well, would you look at that.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: Made it to the barrier. Seems as if there’s a small opening.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: Let me just...there we are.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: In downtown. Are you still at the Capitol with the Doctor?
Aziraphale –> Crowley: ...
Aziraphale –> Crowley: Don’t move.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: I’ll be right there, dear. Just stay put.
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Aziraphale leaned up against the dull alleyway wall, sullying the tops of his wings with the gray grime of an ever-toiling, ever-roiling world. The white feathers lost their luster as they took on the dusty remains of the day, some fading into the smudged soot silver of a hundred fireplaces, while others became bitterly black with the sticky, congealed residue of a thousand ravenous, revving engines. Yet, Aziraphale could not have cared less. How could he ever hope to care when the last dregs of his energy could just barely contain the ill effects of his overdose, that horrible, potent overdose of emotions that he, an angel, had never been meant to feel?
Under Her, they had never fretted. Under Her, they had never feared. Under Her, they had never, ever faltered.
Under Her, they had only to have faith.
But She wasn’t here anymore. She hadn’t actually been here for quite some time, if Aziraphale was being frank. Just as always, She was up There and he was down here, and not once had She thought to talk to, to communicate with, to even so much as know Her child and his heart. A tear stung Aziraphale’s eye as he wondered why this might be, but he blinked it away. She had Her ways. He had his. His umbilical cord had been severed long ago, and now he could only go ahead and forge his own path forward.
Perhaps that was even what She wanted.
Aziraphale heaved a heavy sigh, feeling his constant companion, that dull, aching pain, radiate through his wings. His human vessel had never been designed to support them for more than an hour or two at most, and his shoulders and back were languishing under their heft. Yet, he had no choice but to go on carrying their weight. It was a burden borne not just for himself, but for the helpless hundreds that now, more than ever, needed his sanctuary.
A gale of wind galloped down the street, hooting and hollering, teasing and taunting the masses with the fading cries of memories stolen, memories devoured. Oh, horrible, uncouth thing! Aziraphale’s mouth narrowed into a tight line as he wished he could just reach into its disgusting, diaphanous maw and tear out the lost moments by the fistful.
With the wind came all sorts of debris. Cardboard boxes became airborne while heavy metal bars took flight. At one point, an empty recycling bin tumbled past the alleyway’s opening, hollowly clattering along as it tried to escape into the breeze with its fellow detritus. Then, something larger entered into the alley.
Not a thing, he quickly realized, a person.
And was she…smiling?
No, grinning. A wholly inappropriate grin, given the severity of the matter.
Aziraphale cast her a dubious glance from behind a veil of stained feathers.
“No, and I should hope not,” he said, sounding nigh offended by her apparent glee. “And if you’ll forgive my saying so, this is hardly a laughing matter. There are people out there whose lives have been changed for good by this. They’re suffering!”
closed starter for aziraphale!! ( @evitcrnity )
clary ducked into an alley, narrowly avoiding a gust of wind as she did. looking around, she noticed a man nearby, and shot him a grin. “did it get you yet?”
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Aziraphale angled his wing around the young man, an unbelievably unlucky security guard who’d gotten caught out in the storm during his shift. The man had been rather sullen during their walk together, only cracking a single half-hearted joke about finding his guardian angel before being politely informed that his jest was more truth than hyperbole. Since then, he’d meekly shrank into Aziraphale’s soft, luscious plumage, staring down at his shuffling feet like a timid, self-conscious child. Occasionally, he would mutter something under his breath, something that sounded almost like the rough-hewn edges of a clumsy first prayer. Despite his curiosity, Aziraphale didn’t press him on it. Although he no longer saw the need for worship, it was not his place to steer the humans from it. It was one option available to them of many, one of the countless hues with which they could color the canvas of their life.
They were almost to safety now. Just another two blocks, and they’d be at the hotel Aziraphale had been shepherding people to for the last half hour. Even better, the winds had calmed. Aziraphale wanted to hope that it was because the storm had finally ended, but his constant companion, that needling seed of doubt, chortled at the childish suggestion. It then kicked up its feet and nonchalantly announced that there was no way that it could be so easy, not with the barriers still up and the Doctor and Crowley slowly succumbing to a potent poison just across the way.
Alas, it was right.
The wind suddenly picked up again, sending a sharp, bent bar of metal hurtling toward them. Aziraphale hugged his wing around his charge, waiting for the sickening crunch of heavy steel slamming into hollow bone.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting for a moment that never came.
Aziraphale forced open his screwed-shut eyes, finding the debris being held off by a young woman. She shouted a command at him, one telling him to find cover, a sensible directive given the circumstances. He glanced around but didn’t find anything readily available.
“Where can I take him?” he asked, cupping his hands around his mouth as he tried his best to shout over the wind. “What’s close? And open?”
jean & aziraphale || @evitcrnity || level 1
her hands were outstretched, holding back large debris from knocking down the street. it wasn’t safe for her to be out here, partially in the open while the wind picked up. she wouldn’t be able to hold it for long, but she could keep it from hitting the crowd that was quickly disbursing. watching the last of them leave, she finally let go, before she threw her hand out again, catching them just before they hit someone who hadn’t been there before. “ find cover!”
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a-madman-withabox:
The Doctor -> Aziraphale: Oh, I’ll be fine! Don’t worry about me.
The Doctor -> Aziraphale: I have ran into Crowley. We’ve discussed the situation, and I think we are going to stick together. He was smiling, so that’s a good sign for now.
The Doctor -> Aziraphale: I’ll try. Some days I can’t help but think She made me just to worry.
The Doctor -> Aziraphale: Oh, wonderful. Keep an eye on each other. I’ll try to join you soon.
The Doctor -> Aziraphale: Have you looked into the barrier at all? Crowley told me he couldn’t get through. Perhaps you could try that sonic (?) of yours on it.
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fallenangelsxxx:
Crowley-> Aziraphale: Well…if we’re able to figure something out, I’ll let you know. Cross your fingers and all that.
Crowley-> Aziraphale: Heh. Dunno about all that. The plagues were nasty though, you’ve a point there. That and the whole flooding business. Never quite understood that…
Crowley-> Aziraphale: Wait. Gabriel? Really? Oh hell. That figures.
Crowley-> Aziraphale: OH. Um. Well. Nothing, really. Just…had a bit a fun with the whole holy fire and all. Besides, you had your fun too from what I recall.
Crowley-> Aziraphale: My saucy angel ;)
Aziraphale –> Crowley: Yes, really. I’m not quite certain where he’s gone off to in all of this, but I suppose it’s fine. He doesn’t seem all that inclined to bother us.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: Although...
Aziraphale –> Crowley: I do feel bad. If his being here really is because of me.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: I’ve never been close to him. Not like I have you, or even the humans.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: But he was never supposed to get caught up in all of this. I never wanted him to fall.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: But anyway, I can only imagine the nonsense you got up to. Struck the fear of Her into them, didn’t you?
Aziraphale –> Crowley: Oh, shush.
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Event starter for @graveycrds: Aziraphale and Maximum Ride
Aziraphale held his folded wings close to his body, finally guarding himself instead of others. Now that some time had passed, the initial confusion had metamorphosed into a sort of tense, tenuous order. Receptionists let shellshocked society rest their weary bodies in their heavenly hotel lobbies while sleepy shopkeepers, roused by the pulsating drums, rushed to open their storefronts to struggling stragglers. If anyone was still outside, it was to collect the last few who had yet to find shelter or evacuate those who had become disorientated in the whipping wind.
Oh, humanity, that resilient, brilliant humanity, once again mining themselves for the pluck and luck they would need to survive.
A softness came about Aziraphale’s features as he shuffled along, peering carefully past the bulk of his wings for signs of an incoming gale. The humans had their issues, certainly. Why, at times it was hard to even think of them as human at all. He’d seen the wars they’d started. He’d seen the destruction and suffering they’d imparted. He’d seen Hell, the real Hell, not the one of demons but the one created when humans forfeited their hearts. Yet, amidst that horror, duality always won out. It recalibrated the man, shocking his dead heart and making it shudder back to life, pulsing anew with the smoldering embers of that eternal phoenix, love.
He was so preoccupied with these thoughts that he almost failed to notice the winged woman just before him.
Aziraphale froze, running through the list of angels he had known before, up There. Had any had wings like that? Not pure white or silver, but of an earthly variety? He couldn’t recall any, but there were also many angels he’d never met. Maybe one of them was an exception, an awful abnormality just like him.
“Excuse me?” he called out, keeping some distance between himself and the woman. “May I help you?”
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fallenangelsxxx:
Crowley-> Aziraphale: Oh. Well that’s….awful.
Crowley-> Aziraphale: What the hell is this place doing then, anyway? Is this some sick game? But yea..please be careful and keep safe as long as you can..
Crowley-> Aziraphale: I wish I could see you but…this will do for now. At least I can talk to you. Know that you’re still with me.
Crowley-> Aziraphale: Oh it’s the water, is it? Figured it was somethin like that. I’ve seen some crazy things, I won’t lie. You’re probably better off with the wind for now…
Crowley-> Aziraphale: Found the Doctor, now you mention it. Hoping he and I can team up a bit and get some answers.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: I don’t know, dear. I really don’t know. Couldn’t even begin to guess.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: I would have supposed Heaven. Like that time in Egypt. Remember that time, with the plagues? She really outdid Herself...overdid Herself, when I think about it. I tried to suggest some alternatives, but you know how the chain of command is up there. Can’t get an ear for anything.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: Now that I think about it...
Aziraphale –> Crowley: It might be.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: Gabriel’s here with us. I ran into him. He thinks he’s been sent here as punishment for what we did. Well, I did, but I like to think of it as a joint effort.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: What exactly did you do with my body, anyway? He’s terrified. Didn’t want me anywhere near him.
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a-madman-withabox:
The Doctor -> Aziraphale: Contaminated. Not sure yet with what - the sonic won’t give me a clear reading. But it’s taking an effect on me, whatever it is. Might be a virus? Poison? I was on Mars once where the water made the people it contaminated go mad and kill others. Well, it was more of a sentient sort of…it’s complicated and it’s not good.
The Doctor -> Aziraphale: I’m near the Washington Monument. Meeting a friend here who’s not far.
Aziraphale –> The Doctor: Have you seen Crowley? He said he was by the Capitol.
Aziraphale –> The Doctor: Do let me know if you find him. He sounded fine enough in his messages, but I can’t help but worry...
Aziraphale –> The Doctor: Do you think you’ll be alright? I understand your biology is a bit different than the humans’. Perhaps that will work to your advantage.
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a-madman-withabox:
The Doctor -> Aziraphale: Aziraphale!
The Doctor -> Aziraphale: No wind here. Water’s bad. Bad bad. Reminds me of you know what never mind what it reminds me of.
The Doctor -> Aziraphale: But it’s safe to assume that if it’s something weird going on then it’s absolutely related.
The Doctor -> Aziraphale: Don’t come here. Water’s bad.
Aziraphale –> The Doctor: Bad? How exactly is it bad?
Aziraphale –> The Doctor: I certainly won’t be drinking anything for the time being, though.
Aziraphale –> The Doctor: Where are you exactly?
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fallenangelsxxx:
Crowley-> Aziraphale: Thank you. Talking to you will keep my head on straight.
Crowley-> Aziraphale: I’m as safe as I can be for the time being. What’s happening where you are?
Crowley-> Aziraphale: Keep me posted. If you’re able to get through. I’ll see what miracles I can work on my end as well.
Crowley-> Aziraphale: I know we will. We’ve gotten through worse, yea? No force, evil or good, could keep me from you for long ;)
Aziraphale –> Crowley: Just the wind. From what I can gather, it’ll take your memories if you get in the middle of it.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: I’m trying my best to be careful. Wouldn’t want another episode like we had at the greenhouse, would we?
Aziraphale –> Crowley: But your right. We’ve gotten through the end of the world, for goodness sake. We’ll surely get through this.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: Together.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: Oh, just remembered: the Doctor has been telling me the water has gone bad? Not quite certain where, but I’d avoid drinking anything until this sorts itself out.
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fallenangelsxxx:
Crowley-> Aziraphale: Darling, I….I’m near the Capital Hill area and things are quite strange…
Crowley-> Aziraphale: I’m feeling alright so far but it seems some others are turning…monstrous. I don’t know how else to explain. It’s not fun.
Crowley-> Aziraphale: I don’t know if you can get here, my love. There’s some kind of barrier, I can’t get past…
Crowley-> Aziraphale: Keep talking to me, please. I love you.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: Of course I will, Crowley.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: But please get inside if you haven’t already. Or if that’s not safe, somewhere that is.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: I do believe there’s also a barrier where I am. Been trying to get to it, but I’ve been a bit occupied. I’ll see if I can get through it on my end.
Aziraphale –> Crowley: And dear...I love you so, so much. We’ll be back together soon.
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Event starter for @irresistiibles: Aziraphale and Persephone
Aziraphale hadn’t been making much progress at all.
Well, he had, in a conventional sense. He’d gotten a couple dozen people inside without incident, saving them from the greedy gales galloping through the streets. Still, in those dozens, he hadn’t found the one person he’d truly set out for, the one person he held closest to his heart.
Oh Crowley, where did you nip off to?
Finally, Aziraphale found a reprieve. The older couple he’d escorted to the front of a fine old hotel disappeared through its revolving doors, leaving him without any charges. Aziraphale stretched his wings, feeling the burgeoning ache where they met his shoulder blades. As the feathers settled behind him, he expectantly pulled out his phone.
Nothing.
He slipped it back into his overcoat’s pocket and glanced around, spotting a woman who also seemed to be trying her best to help. Hmm…perhaps. Perhaps while performing her good work, she had seen Crowley. Perhaps she had approached him, directed him, showed him some safe haven in a gray office lobby or winding museum hall. Perhaps, if he asked nicely, she could tell him where he was.
“Excuse me,” he asked, hesitantly holding a pointer finger in the air as he approached. “Pardon me. I…I’m looking for someone. Anthony J. Crowley. Tall, black clothes, ginger. Yes, very ginger, very ginger indeed. Couldn’t miss it. You don’t happen to have seen him, have you?”
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thxflxminghxart:
The golden-blonde thought he was hallucinating, having to blink for a few moments. However, he returned to grabbing his head from the pain. He didn’t understand how one could be in so much pain from a simple sound! After this, he would never want to hear another drum in his life.
“Wh…what!?” Kyojuro yelled, his booming voice seeming natural in such a situation. He couldn’t hear anything, merely the murmurs and blurred waves of sound.
Oh dear.
Something seemed to be troubling the young man, some affliction of the head. Had he been hit by the wind? Been stripped of his past by that awful, avaricious air? Felt its diaphanous fingers delve deep into his mind and scoop out fistfuls of memory, like a pumpkin’s unwanted innards? How much had been lost to just one errant breeze?
Aziraphale slowly approached, angling himself so that a soft veil of feathers came down around the man.
“You’re safe now, dear boy,” he said softly, adjusting his wing to better hide his new charge from the voracious wind. “Now come with me, we’ll bring you inside. You can tell me what happened on the way.”
He motioned with an arm toward the open bookshop door. Just inside, the huddled masses peered out, most wide-eyed and still stuck in a state of stupor. Many had found their way to the shop on their own, but over the last twenty minutes, Aziraphale had shepherded half a dozen of them into its asylum. What a pity that he couldn’t stay here with them. But alas, amidst the many he’d already found, the one closest to his heart was still missing.
Aziraphale waited for the man to take the first step on their journey to safety.
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One Sparkly Elf For @apersonofworth
An Aaravos Board
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