Aziraphale (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
guardianofeden) wrote2019-06-25 09:30 pm
guardianofeden) wrote2019-06-25 09:30 pm
In which we revisit the year 0AD
The orders had been simple enough, he had thought. Make your way to a small village - three days ride from where he'd been living for the past couple of years - find the Inn within, and rent the last room for the night. More instructions would come, he'd been told, and that he must make his way post-haste. It was of terrible importance.
Which was how he found himself, with the sun just beginning to set over the horizon, making his way into the small establishment and weaving his way through the small dining room toward the owner. He could smell the wonderful meals being served to the patrons, and they made his mouth water as he stood patiently, a plate of something filled with honey and figs and nuts wafting by his nose as one of the staff made her way through the room. Oh, he would have to try some of that, most definitely!
The owner was brusque, but not unkind as Aziraphale gave him the gold pieces for the room, and the transaction completed, he moved gracefully through the tables until he found the only empty one in the far corner of the room. It must have been a very well-run venture, to be so busy this late into the evening. He waved down the friendly woman who'd been carting around orders and ordered 'Whatever that most delightfully-scented sweet thing is, and a jug of wine, please,' and settled in as she shuffled off to prepare the food.
Which was how he found himself, with the sun just beginning to set over the horizon, making his way into the small establishment and weaving his way through the small dining room toward the owner. He could smell the wonderful meals being served to the patrons, and they made his mouth water as he stood patiently, a plate of something filled with honey and figs and nuts wafting by his nose as one of the staff made her way through the room. Oh, he would have to try some of that, most definitely!
The owner was brusque, but not unkind as Aziraphale gave him the gold pieces for the room, and the transaction completed, he moved gracefully through the tables until he found the only empty one in the far corner of the room. It must have been a very well-run venture, to be so busy this late into the evening. He waved down the friendly woman who'd been carting around orders and ordered 'Whatever that most delightfully-scented sweet thing is, and a jug of wine, please,' and settled in as she shuffled off to prepare the food.
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Not all that surprising. It was, after all, a nice night and there were happy people and good food. All the sorts of things Aziraphale liked. The demon Crawley, however, was not having a fantastic night, such as it was. He would be the first to tell you that he was not in any sort of mood to talk about it with anyone, but that would have been the biggest and boldest of lies1. In fact, the person he would have enjoyed complaining about his rather lousy evening with had just decided to step into the Inn he had dropped by in, only to find that they couldn't even offer him a room. And it was his fourth Inn.
"You're not part of the convention that's in town, are you?" Crawley asked. "Because nowhere in this entire town has a room available. Not even one, and I will tell you, I have been looking."
1 - Within the last hour, at least.
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"Well, Good evening, Crawley. Fancy seeing you here." He silently cursed the way the sight of him was comforting, but the smile he gave him wasn't unkind. He had to have been tempting him, that must have been it. But if he knew it was happening, then there was no danger, and no sense in being rude. The demon was just doing what came naturally to him.
It certainly didn't help, the way he always found himself a little fascinated with the subtle changes the other had made in his appearance over the centuries. Sometimes braids and pleats tucked into his long, fiery curls, other times he left them loose, the changes in robes and tunics he wore - never seeming to settle for the attire of the men or women for long, it seemed.
"Oh, I don't believe so, no. They're probably in town for the festivals, I would assume." But then he felt bad, looking back at him and looking genuinely apologetic. "Oh, dear, I'm sorry to hear that. That...well...I will admit, I may have something to do with at least part of that. But only the one room, you see. Orders from Up Above. Wouldn't even tell me why, just that it was of some importance that I rent a room from this inn in particular."
He thanked the young woman as she brought the jug of wine to the table and set the bowl with what appeared to be a type of spiced cake in front of him before turning back to Crawley.
"What about you? Up to no good in this neck of the woods, I take it?" He gave him a knowing smirk. He's onto you, you wily serpent! "Planning to blight the fields, or some other such wicked scheme?"
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This Aziraphale, though, he looked like the sort who was really good at tests. Probably knew all the right maths and right words to place in all the right orders to make sure everyone knew he was tip-top of his class. Well---then again, that's what Crawley would think, except for the spiced cake. Angels didn't really eat. Eating wasn't really at the top of Crawley's list of things-to-do either, unless it came with a temptation, or was really really decadent and bad for the person he was tempting. But this angel, he was a bit softer than the others. Jug of wine, cup of spiced cake. Interesting as always.
Crawley always knew he was different, ever since that day in the Garden. Some days, it showed more than others.
"Supposed to be a simple temptation," Crawley said, running a hand over his face. "Convince a man to leave his pregnant wife. Tempt him with the way his life could be without the child and wife hoovering around him. And---" he gestured towards the angel. "Here's the kicker, child isn't even his child. He knew it, she knew it, they all knew it. Man's a laughingstock. Should've been easy."
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"Er...yes, I suppose you may be right there..." The look he gave him was quick, but apologetic, before he was turning back to break off a piece of the cake and pop it into his mouth. The flavors that burst onto his tongue were delightful, and he gave a contented sigh as he savored the sweetness, the crunch of the nuts and the firm texture of the figs as the bread dissolved in his mouth. "Oh, that's divine."
He turned to the demon, still listening as he ate, and he found that he felt a small combination of joy and sympathy, the two emotions warring gently with each other for dominance.
"Oh, dear. There must have been quite a great deal of love between them. Don't feel too bad, of course. You can't win them all. Love is such a strong emotion, after all." He slid the cake a little closer to the demon, not even seeming to realize that he had just tried to console his enemy. "Here, try a little? It really is quite good." Because food had a strange way of soothing over hurt feelings.
He poured himself a cup of wine from the jug before waiting to see if he took him up on the offer, and broke off another piece of cake. When he tasted it this time, he followed it quickly with a drink, marveling at the way the bitterness and tartness of the wine contrasted with the sweetness of the dessert, enhancing the flavors of both in turn as they rolled over his tongue.
Definitely not a normal Angel, no. But he never had been very good at fitting in with the rest of them, had he?
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He reached in and broke off a small piece of cake. Crawley couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten anything, but the angel made the act look fun. He touched it with the tip of his tongue.
"What is it?"