diatu | [OPEN]

[OPEN]

Who: Aziraphale and [OPEN]
Where: Wandering, specifically checking out the temples
When: ~August 5th, and the days following
What: The Angel is new on campus and he's got to get the lay of the land, what the gods are, where you can feed ducks, check out the library...and most importantly: find out where the food is.
Warnings: I will avoid giving Good Omens spoilers. Feel free to tell me Y/N on spoilers on the intro post, but by default, if you notice him dancing away from a certain topic despite being pressed about it? It's probably delving into spoiler territory.

Campus

Aziraphale had been wandering around the campus and city for the better part of...well, he lost track of time. And that wasn't the only thing he had lost. He himself was incredibly lost. On top of that, he had absolutely not been able to locate his new residence "Living Quarters Suite 404," despite his best efforts and a few well-meaning inquiries. (They LAUGHED at him! Sadly, he was not aware of the joke! How rude!) All he had established was that it was not in the House Towers.

His House, according to his acceptance memo, indicated he belonged to a group called Ka, which resulted in his assigned clothing looking like something that could have come from Crowley's closet. (Ka even sounded snake-ish, a la Rudyard Kipling. He supposed it could have been worse.) Black and red and not a lick of tartan. THAT would not do. Miracles might not work here, but he was sure a little needle and thread could be made to save him from this if he didn't learn the appropriate magic before then. For now, however, he was content to wear his usual light colored coat and bow-tie; there was no sense to change clothing immediately on arrival. The weather was certainly amenable; when he had left it had been late summer as well. But his arms were getting a bit tired of carrying his new supplies, including the odd sword hilt he had been (oh, dear) assigned.

Temples

Wandering eventually lead him, no surprise, to the temples. The Temple of Raida drew him in first, because it was grandiose and yet had an air of benevolence. Inside, it reminded him of cathedrals and mosques and temples he had visited over the millennia. Beautiful. Imposing.

He expected his feet to burn. Perhaps expected a good smiting. Instead, he took a seat on one of the pews without interference and wondered if this new place was too far from his God that she might not even see him anymore.

Gloves At The Table

Peeking into the restaurant, he determined it seemed to be a teppanyaki-style preparation. How quaint! How he would pay for it, Aziraphale had no idea, but it looked enchanting enough, and he was feeling a bit peckish.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Ah," Aziraphale looked behind himself briefly, as if assuring himself the young man was talking to him and not some other parishioner. "No? No, I don't believe it can. I'm not a--" he fidgets noticeably, smoothing his hands over his Ka uniform folded in his lap, appearing a bit guilty. "I'm not a follower. I'm a new arrival here, and I was just. Having a look-about."

His smile is a bit forced, but bright and the compliment is honest: "It's certainly a lovely place you have here."

"Thank you," Eleven smiled in turn, then brightened as he followed the movement of the man's hands to the uniform in his lap. A new arrival, and native students were usually more around his own age.

"Did you say you're one of the Sundered?"

"I didn't say, but I supposed I am. That's what they're calling us who have been summoned here, aren't they?" Sundered was not a pleasant term for those of them who had been split from their home; it was not a pleasant experience either, and he was a bit annoyed by the whole morning. "Are you one?"

"Yes." Eleven ducked his head and fidgeted a bit with the sleeve of his robe. "The first to become part of a temple, actually."

After a moment, he held out a hand. "I'm Eleven. As you might guess, I'm in the Eiather house."

Aziraphale held out his own for the familiar gesture of a handshake. Nice to see some customs bridged worlds.

"Eleven, as in the number?" Certainly not in the modern naming conventions, though he could remember when the Romans favored such names as Septimus and Octavius, so Eleven wasn't without precedent. "You may call me--" A pause. The pause dragged on a moment that betrayed his lie and then he said, looking proud of himself for stating, "Mr. Fell."

A very human name, one that had served him well for centuries; surely no one would ask too many questions. (Oh, but humans did like to ask questions)

He nodded and didn't miss the beat and phrasing that suggested that it wasn't the man's actual name. He supposed that was fair: people knew his name, but didn't know much about who he really was- or was meant to be.

"Mr. Fell, then. It's good to meet you. I'd be happy to help if you have any questions or.. anything, I suppose. I've been here for awhile now."

Though he suspected that would change soon, if he was right about the reason he'd come here to start with.

He was undoubtedly going to slip up sooner or later and give his actual name, but it would be a solid effort while he tried.

"Thank you, but I'd hate to trouble you. Still," if you're offering "I can't say I have any idea what I'm supposed to do. I've never attended classes--not proper classes, anyway--so this is all a bit new to me."

A frown. "How long is 'a while,' though?"

"I came in with the first arrivals." Eleven took a moment to count back. "That was about six months ago. But I'd never been to school before then, either. There are a lot of classes and studying can be pretty hard if you aren't used to it. But you just need to look at your schedule and find your classrooms, then attend them until they're over."

He hesitated. "Well, I guess you don't really have to- I know a few people that skip them- but I don't really want to test what happens if we don't master the magic we have."

"Six months." He looked a little ill. No, he should not be here for even close to that long; leaving so abruptly was RUDE and cruel and he was going to find a way back. But classes sounded like something Aziraphale could do, easily enough. Schedules and assignments; he had held down a job, after all, even if it had gotten considerably lenient in the past few centuries.

"Surely if nothing else, we should study magic in order to find a way to return to our homes."

He nodded, but doubted their ability to learn more than experts hadn't already.

"I think we're all here for a reason," Eleven said, smoothing down the front of his robes. "I'm sure it's different for everyone and maybe we don't know what that reason is, but I'm sure it's Yggdrasil's will that I'm here. I might even return soon, now that.."

He spared a brief glance to his marked hand. "Well, we'll see, I suppose. Only Yggdrasil Herself can say."

Oh. Aziraphale wanted to laugh, cry, and roll his eyes--it was so fitting and awful all at once. His eyes may even have welled up a bit in a very unbecoming manner.

"Of course, it would be another piece of an ineffable plan," he murmured, looking down at the folded red and black uniform and picking at imaginary threads. It all was so unfair, after everything. Why? Was he expected to show penitence? Was this some kind of punishment? "Well, I for one fully intend to return," he decided with a firm, prim, determined set to his jaw that waged a war against his nervous fingers. "Or at least to make efforts of the sort. I see no reason to simply accept it as Fate without...doing something."

"I can understand that."

Though he knew he needed to, a large part of him didn't want to return, so it suited him well enough to let destiny take its time in doing so.

"There are researchers you can talk to that are looking into how it is we arrived here and how we might be returned," he offered. "They don't appear to have made a lot of progress, but they're working on it, at least. It's rooted in Sundering magic, so it might also help to take that branch of magic to understand it a little more."

"From what I understand, my House is focused on Sunderlings, so I am hoping there might be some information to be found there. And I'm no foreigner to ...the occult," there was a bit of distaste in using that word, as he was ethereal thank you very much, but he was, still, no stranger to the occult, or occult beings, or transportation between planes of existence. If he had a purpose here, perhaps it was to do something like THAT. "So perhaps it won't be too impossible to pick up quickly."

Eleven's eyes flicked up as though weighing the man before him. He wondered what his experience with the occult entailed, while also desiring to know as little about it as possible.

"It sounds like you have a good place to start, then," he said, hands clasping in front of him with a slight incline of his head. "I hope your studies go well for you, and may the forces of benevolence watch over you."

If pressed, Aziraphale would undoubtedly tell all about his experiences (plural) with 'the occult,' but aside from the last decade, the stories would likely be not nearly as interesting as Eleven probably assumed them to be. Even so, he was not naive to the assumptions one might make about such associations.

Eleven seemed to be a dutiful holy student. He could not fault the boy that.

"I do hope so. Thank you. Yes, thank you, I shouldn't keep you from your duties any longer. However," he added before Eleven could leave, reaching absently for his sleeve to stop him, "if you have a moment, maybe you could tell me more about Her--Them--your god. If I'm going to sit as I am in their home, I think it only fair I should know something about the host."

Eleven turned, eyes finding the fingers pinching the end of his sleeve, then fell back the step he'd taken.

"Of course," he said, choosing to take a seat as well. His eyes strayed to Raida's great statue.

"Raida is an goddess of great benevolence. Indiscriminate in Her blessings, She offers solace and sanctuary to all those who come seeking it- even those without faith or those bound to other deities. I'm grateful for that every day."

Aziraphale looked skyward--ceiling-ward--as if to an unseen God before following Eleven's gaze to the statue. As long as they were actually forces of benevolence, having someone looking over his shoulder wouldn't be too bad, he supposed--though he'd much rather an ally down here with him.

"And your Yggdrasil? Are They so open and accepting?"

Eleven glanced down at his lap, fingers idly twining into themselves.

"Yggdrasil is also a goddess of benevolence. She is the source of all life and light in Erdrea. I grew up praying to the Spirit of the Land that watches over my home village. I don't think something like that has ever been a concern of Hers."

Kindness doesn't exclude the presence of other faults, a nagging voice that was not his own argued. Was the Flood benevolent punishment? Or Sodom and Gomorrah?

"Ah, never? I see. It's just that...well, in MY world, most religions' gods prefer some sort of exclusivity with their followers."

Eleven hummed a curious note. "It seems odd, to me. Gods have greater concerns than that. Shouldn't it be in more important that your actions are in keeping with the god you represent?"

He tipped his head. "I guess there could be conflict if there were opposing wills.."

"There's that, too. You mean your god didn't have an opposition? Ours, mine, had a, uh, adversary, one of Her followers who staged a rebellion and Fell from Her Grace near the time of the world's Creation. So, there is a great deal of emphasis on which side of that dichotomy one ends up part of. Good and Evil, and all that."

Eleven nearly laughed, but reigned the impulse in to a smile- one that swiftly faded as he spoke.

"Well I'm not about to swear my life to the Dark One. Anyway, Erdwin defeated him long ago. The Lord of Shadows is.. is not yet a God- though I'm sure he thinks himself such."

"Yes, they... do seem to do that," he admitted. Creating an AntiChrist--an antithesis to the son of God--was certainly a great deal of hubris on the part of Lucifer. "But goodness, no, I wasn't suggesting That. I can't see why anyone would swear their life to a Dark One, but certainly some are tempted, accidentally or intentionally, or he wouldn't exist and pose such a threat."

He hadn't really thought of it that way- that darkness might exist because of human contribution. The people of Cobblestone had always been kind- were still kind -and the King had been poisoned. But what of Jasper, then? It was a subject that he had yet to be able to broach with Hendrik.

Eleven shivered, hands turning over in his lap.

"It's hard to think about," he admitted. "I know monsters exist because of darkness and that Mordegon was the source of it, but I don't know where it was that he..."

His eyes narrowed, caught on a memory. "...Gained such power. But he's not a god, anymore than I am."

Aziraphale watched, unsure what kind of revelation the young man might have had, but sure it was a rather unpleasant if enlightening one. He should probably offer something uplifting to counteract it, since the part of this conversation has been mostly his own fault to begin with.

"Humanity does plenty of evils on their own, without Divine or Hellish intervention, let me assure you. But they are also capable of much good, so I wouldn't worry too much about Mordegon. It tends to balance out in the end and good largely tends to prevail."

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