Crowley slowly calmed with Aziraphale's warm presence. His Aziraphale was long dead, but this one, this one was alive and well and right here. Right here and trying his best to help him. And he wanted so desperately to allow him to do as much. He wanted to tell him everything. Every last little detail he'd been too stubborn to tell his Aziraphale. But even now he held back. It wasn't fair to this Aziraphale to have all his emotions dumped onto his lap. This Aziraphale wasn't responsible for forgiving him of his regrets. This Aziraphale couldn't change the past. And he wouldn't be the fool to ask him to.
It took him a moment to gather himself together enough to winch in his wings, but he did so, eventually. Well, about in time for the other... Crowley... to set the glass of scotch on the shelf near him. He looked up briefly, his yellow serpentine eyes meeting their reflection in his ginger version's sunglasses, before ducking his head back down to look at the offered glass. Aziraphale was protesting because of course he was. But even Antia knew better than to suggest he not. He took the glass in his trembling hand and looked at it for a long moment before he knocked it back.
He would have agreed it was the good stuff had he taken any time to savor it. As it was, it burned all the way down and warmed him from the inside. The soothing familiarity of the sensation grounded him. brought him back to the present. Held the ghosts of his past at bay if even for a moment. At least long enough for him to turn around and pitch forward against the angel's chest, drinking in his presence and just... Appreciating that he was alive.
Well, that is before he mustered up the courage to say in a raw whisper, "It's not... It's not my blood. It's... It's Aziraphale's."
Antia sniffed and stared at Crowley as he awkwardly offered her the whiskey before shaking her head. "Thanksss, but you should keep it for yourself."
She thought for a long moment, trying to decide just how much she should say. Surely some of it they had already figured out. Some Crowley had already told Aziraphale. Still, she wanted to talk loud enough so that Aziraphale could catch or confirm any details he hadn't yet. She took a long, unnecessary breath and began.
"Crowley we are, for lack of a better way to describe it, your double. We come from a world where every being with a soul manifests that soul outside their body in an animal shape, a daemon. I'm that for Crowley. I'm sure you've already figured it out, but this is why you have to be careful with me. Were something to happen... Were I to be separated, or worse, destroyed... Well, he wouldn't be Crowley anymore. He would be but a husk. A soulless, living corpse. And you don't just go around touching other being's daemons. I'm only granting you this liberty because of who you are and because you just don't know any better."
Crowley's breath hitched and he clung tightly around Aziraphale's waist, knowing full well what Antia was about to talk about. Not that he could, or would, stop her.
"That out of the way, our world had our apocalypse. It was messy. It was brutal. There aren't many on either side left. The Earth was reduced to a lifeless ball of rubble where once there were buildings and blood where bodies of water used to be. The sun was extinguished. Before it got that far, however, we tried to negotiate a truce. We didn't think it would go the way he wanted. We knew something bad would happen. Tried to talk him out of it. Even Zaphira thought it was a bad idea, but he wouldn't even listen to his own daemon. He had to try. Well, sure enough our suspicions were correct. Michael ran Aziraphale through with his flaming sword right in front of us and there was nothing we could do. We knew we had to run and hide and survive as soon as Zaphira faded away."
Antia paused, looking at the Crowley whose shoulder she was perched on. "That was thirty years ago, we think. Bit hard to tell the progression of time with no sun. 'Sss gonna take a bit for us to adjust to there being so much light again." And then she looked over at Aziraphale. "Haven't seen his wings since that day. Bit of a shock the blood's still there."
no subject
It took him a moment to gather himself together enough to winch in his wings, but he did so, eventually. Well, about in time for the other... Crowley... to set the glass of scotch on the shelf near him. He looked up briefly, his yellow serpentine eyes meeting their reflection in his ginger version's sunglasses, before ducking his head back down to look at the offered glass. Aziraphale was protesting because of course he was. But even Antia knew better than to suggest he not. He took the glass in his trembling hand and looked at it for a long moment before he knocked it back.
He would have agreed it was the good stuff had he taken any time to savor it. As it was, it burned all the way down and warmed him from the inside. The soothing familiarity of the sensation grounded him. brought him back to the present. Held the ghosts of his past at bay if even for a moment. At least long enough for him to turn around and pitch forward against the angel's chest, drinking in his presence and just... Appreciating that he was alive.
Well, that is before he mustered up the courage to say in a raw whisper, "It's not... It's not my blood. It's... It's Aziraphale's."
Antia sniffed and stared at Crowley as he awkwardly offered her the whiskey before shaking her head. "Thanksss, but you should keep it for yourself."
She thought for a long moment, trying to decide just how much she should say. Surely some of it they had already figured out. Some Crowley had already told Aziraphale. Still, she wanted to talk loud enough so that Aziraphale could catch or confirm any details he hadn't yet. She took a long, unnecessary breath and began.
"Crowley we are, for lack of a better way to describe it, your double. We come from a world where every being with a soul manifests that soul outside their body in an animal shape, a daemon. I'm that for Crowley. I'm sure you've already figured it out, but this is why you have to be careful with me. Were something to happen... Were I to be separated, or worse, destroyed... Well, he wouldn't be Crowley anymore. He would be but a husk. A soulless, living corpse. And you don't just go around touching other being's daemons. I'm only granting you this liberty because of who you are and because you just don't know any better."
Crowley's breath hitched and he clung tightly around Aziraphale's waist, knowing full well what Antia was about to talk about. Not that he could, or would, stop her.
"That out of the way, our world had our apocalypse. It was messy. It was brutal. There aren't many on either side left. The Earth was reduced to a lifeless ball of rubble where once there were buildings and blood where bodies of water used to be. The sun was extinguished. Before it got that far, however, we tried to negotiate a truce. We didn't think it would go the way he wanted. We knew something bad would happen. Tried to talk him out of it. Even Zaphira thought it was a bad idea, but he wouldn't even listen to his own daemon. He had to try. Well, sure enough our suspicions were correct. Michael ran Aziraphale through with his flaming sword right in front of us and there was nothing we could do. We knew we had to run and hide and survive as soon as Zaphira faded away."
Antia paused, looking at the Crowley whose shoulder she was perched on. "That was thirty years ago, we think. Bit hard to tell the progression of time with no sun. 'Sss gonna take a bit for us to adjust to there being so much light again." And then she looked over at Aziraphale. "Haven't seen his wings since that day. Bit of a shock the blood's still there."