There was something about the way they talked with one another. The warmth and familiarity between Aziraphale and the stranger felt... right. Like they belonged together. A matched set, as it were.
And he was the odd one out. He obviously didn't belong here. His world was broken and dark and nothing but rubble and blood and him and his soul. Neither Aziraphale or the other had a daemon. It was just him and Antia.
But he didn't really have time to think about it as the angel's attention turned to fuss about his wings. And... The feeling of the angel's hands on his wings, no matter how delicate and careful, sent little electric jolts through him. Under normal circumstances he would gently extract himself from the touches, or under good circumstances he would lean into it. But this was different. This was... He didn't really know what this was, but he did know that now was not the time to go mucking about in his plumage.
He jerked his wings away from Aziraphale's touch, more on instinct than anything else, catching sight of the old blood stains. He recognized what, who, they were from immediately and his stomach lurched. That was Azira-- He scrambled away, as if trying to get away from his own wings and managed to wedge himself into a corner of bookshelves, his hands covering his head as if to protect himself from the sight of his angel's blood on his wings.
Antia barely managed to stay on Crowley in his panic. Once he was in place and dipped his head down, she fell off and landed on the floor with a squeak. Her eyes wide, she didn't know what to do. "Cr-- Crowley! It... You're..." She looked back at the angel and the approaching demon helplessly, trembling with the weight and flurry of Crowley's emotions.
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rosecarmine
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Date: 2020-11-23 04:30 am (UTC)And he was the odd one out. He obviously didn't belong here. His world was broken and dark and nothing but rubble and blood and him and his soul. Neither Aziraphale or the other had a daemon. It was just him and Antia.
But he didn't really have time to think about it as the angel's attention turned to fuss about his wings. And... The feeling of the angel's hands on his wings, no matter how delicate and careful, sent little electric jolts through him. Under normal circumstances he would gently extract himself from the touches, or under good circumstances he would lean into it. But this was different. This was... He didn't really know what this was, but he did know that now was not the time to go mucking about in his plumage.
He jerked his wings away from Aziraphale's touch, more on instinct than anything else, catching sight of the old blood stains. He recognized what, who, they were from immediately and his stomach lurched. That was Azira-- He scrambled away, as if trying to get away from his own wings and managed to wedge himself into a corner of bookshelves, his hands covering his head as if to protect himself from the sight of his angel's blood on his wings.
Antia barely managed to stay on Crowley in his panic. Once he was in place and dipped his head down, she fell off and landed on the floor with a squeak. Her eyes wide, she didn't know what to do. "Cr-- Crowley! It... You're..." She looked back at the angel and the approaching demon helplessly, trembling with the weight and flurry of Crowley's emotions.