Aziraphale (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
temptationaccomplished) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
diatu2019-11-18 09:06 pm
temptationaccomplished) wrote in diatu2019-11-18 09:06 pm
you're the first one when things turn out bad
Who: EVERYONE, you're all invited. Or invited to happen upon this, if you missed the invite, and spot it happening in the Great Hall.
What: Aziraphale wants to show off his best friend, so he's invited you all to a tea party.
Where: The Great Hall
When: Tuesday after classes
Warnings: Tyzias is a menace, there's no reason to think anything at ALL about The Arrangement, and if the invite was any indication, the ineffables probably cannot be contained
Due to circumstances which will not be discussed (but, namely, that Pallidus cannot be in indirect sunlight), and using weather as an excuse, Aziraphale's planned tea party out on the lawn has been moved indoors.
He's gone all out. There is plenty of tea (with optional sugar and cream), biscuits (by which we mean crisp cookies), some small cakes that are rather adorably decorated, a fruit pie or two, and treats provided by Sunset Shimmer. (And possibly booze, if Tyzias did decide to bring some). Casual though the gathering is, he's set a proper table to hold their food, with a table cloth, a few candles, some nice napkins. This is not slipshod work. This is the work of someone aesthetically living in a past century who feels like he has waited a good millennia for this moment and is going to do this right.
And what This is, is introduce his demon best friend to polite company. As Crowley put it.
It's true, though. Except where Tyzias is concerned, anyway.
In the center of the table is a small, homey potted plant. Nothing particularly extravagant. Leafy and green and moderately well-cared for, recently purchased, and even more recently labeled with a tag that says "For: Crowley." The "for" was added secondary, after it occurred to Aziraphale that it looked a bit like he'd named the plant Crowley. Which he had not.
Aziraphale, aka Mr. Fell, is playing the anxious, bustling, gracious host as best he can, while being utterly preoccupied with his friend: a tall, gangly ginger who he introduces to everyone as "Crowley." Any assumptions one might make about the two apparently middle-aged, man-shaped beings is entirely one's own assumptions. But if Aziraphale is glowing with joy and affection, and eager to tell stories about the two of them, that's just how it is.
When things settle down and everyone has been served tea and introduced, he might try to show off some silly card-tricks: absolutely typical sleight-of-hand like humans perform, and not performed especially well. He's doing this mainly to annoy Crowley and seems to delight in that, even if he is a little genuinely embarrassed at how rusty his skills have gotten.
Come, join in, mingle. Hang out with your fellow classmates and enjoy some treats. We're coming up on the end of a year and, like a harvest festival, it's time to make new friends, rekindle old bonds, share in some good food, and party before the winter.
What: Aziraphale wants to show off his best friend, so he's invited you all to a tea party.
Where: The Great Hall
When: Tuesday after classes
Warnings: Tyzias is a menace, there's no reason to think anything at ALL about The Arrangement, and if the invite was any indication, the ineffables probably cannot be contained
Due to circumstances which will not be discussed (but, namely, that Pallidus cannot be in indirect sunlight), and using weather as an excuse, Aziraphale's planned tea party out on the lawn has been moved indoors.
He's gone all out. There is plenty of tea (with optional sugar and cream), biscuits (by which we mean crisp cookies), some small cakes that are rather adorably decorated, a fruit pie or two, and treats provided by Sunset Shimmer. (And possibly booze, if Tyzias did decide to bring some). Casual though the gathering is, he's set a proper table to hold their food, with a table cloth, a few candles, some nice napkins. This is not slipshod work. This is the work of someone aesthetically living in a past century who feels like he has waited a good millennia for this moment and is going to do this right.
And what This is, is introduce his demon best friend to polite company. As Crowley put it.
It's true, though. Except where Tyzias is concerned, anyway.
In the center of the table is a small, homey potted plant. Nothing particularly extravagant. Leafy and green and moderately well-cared for, recently purchased, and even more recently labeled with a tag that says "For: Crowley." The "for" was added secondary, after it occurred to Aziraphale that it looked a bit like he'd named the plant Crowley. Which he had not.
Aziraphale, aka Mr. Fell, is playing the anxious, bustling, gracious host as best he can, while being utterly preoccupied with his friend: a tall, gangly ginger who he introduces to everyone as "Crowley." Any assumptions one might make about the two apparently middle-aged, man-shaped beings is entirely one's own assumptions. But if Aziraphale is glowing with joy and affection, and eager to tell stories about the two of them, that's just how it is.
When things settle down and everyone has been served tea and introduced, he might try to show off some silly card-tricks: absolutely typical sleight-of-hand like humans perform, and not performed especially well. He's doing this mainly to annoy Crowley and seems to delight in that, even if he is a little genuinely embarrassed at how rusty his skills have gotten.
Come, join in, mingle. Hang out with your fellow classmates and enjoy some treats. We're coming up on the end of a year and, like a harvest festival, it's time to make new friends, rekindle old bonds, share in some good food, and party before the winter.
I expected chaos, I got chaos. I'm loving it
Ridiculous in execution and worrying in scope is how Aziraphale would describe probably 95% of Crowley's evil plans. The biggest difference here is that, as sulky and petty as Crowley might be at times, he was a troll of a different nature, and the torment he put Aziraphale through was entirely different. Endearing, oftentimes. And Aziraphale was very used to thwarting his wiles.
With Tyzias, Aziraphale still has no idea what to expect. She doesn't have wiles. Not for him, anyway. She only has chaos and calamity and references to things that went way over Aziraphale's head.
So he has no idea what to prepare for when he fails to un-invite her, when she finally shows up. No idea how to stop it before it's begun, and no idea what to do with it now that it's started. And, goodness, has something started.
When the room goes dark, an absolutely terrified stillness comes over the angel, except for a cautious hand that reaches for Crowley, wherever he is.
A good half of him suddenly isn't entirely sure she's sane enough for any company, let alone the polite kind, and fears she might do something dangerous and mad. Another part of him is quite sure he's going to be the one murdering her in this, raining down Heavenly vengeance. And another, very small, very angry and reluctant-to-come-forward part of him thinks maybe...maybe he expected this, brought it upon himself, and it's a very human, very normal mistake to be made, like inviting that one cousin to your wedding, or some such--naturally the wedding tent is going to go down in flames, dishes will be smashed, a bridezilla will rage, and tears will be had before that night is over.
Everything is suddenly way too loud, way too colorful (for Heaven's sake, it's become bloody discotheque in here and he is NOT having this!! This is HIS party--HIS--and how DARE, HOW DARE she turn this into a funhouse!) It's become a- a- A Mad Tea Party!
He gestures angrily, helplessly at the DJ booth she's set up for herself. Face blotchy and red, mostly flustered, he turns to Crowley to demand, plead, request, "Crowley! Do something!"
And somehow, that being said, this whole nightmare doesn't feel quite so unmanageable anymore.
no subject
If he's dishonest, and he's leaning dishonest today, he'd say this just really isn't his scene.
Nonetheless, when he hears a telltale snap of fingers and Aziraphale reaches out, he's still instinctively reaching right back to brush their hands together, 'right here, angel.' Part of him still associates a finger snap with miracles, and if they've already been tailed halfway across the multiverse, just let whoever it is try and-
And then there's noise. Glorious, strobe-lighted, percussive, chaotic noise.
Crowley doesn't realize that his and Aziraphale's fingertips are still brushing, or that Aziraphale looks one airhorn noise away from having a fit. Because he's staring at Tyzias's display, and the prospects for the evening are looking much brighter. (No, he did not want to plan the party, but disrupting it...)
A glowstick dangles in front of his face, and he reaches up with his free hand to absently take it from the string. Aziraphale is making the frantic, familiar plea that he do something.
Crowley pauses. Then he extends the hand with the glowstick, one finger pointing in Tyzias's direction, and shouts "PLAY FREEBIRD!"
He flashes Aziraphale a wicked, toothy grin, and settles in to enjoy the fireworks.
no subject
And he IS awful, well and truly Crowley is. Terrible to his core, and Aziraphale has missed this part of him, too. He's missed the rise his friend gets out of him by being his fiendish awful self. Being riled up and somewhat mad at Crowley is as much a part of the balance of their friendship as warm companionship.
"Oh, this is a disaster," he laments instead of letting the sentiment washing over him show, turning from Crowley to survey the damage. It's rowdy, naughty, with a bit of edgy danger to it. It's definitely more true to Crowley than that tea party ever would have been. Crowley's fingers against his own are an anchor in this hurricane of noise and, though he blustered and billows, he doesn't stray from his mooring.
Squaring his shoulders and pinching up his face, he turns back to his demon. Aziraphale is honestly mad (well, put-out more, really) at having his party derailed and perhaps he's blowing this up bigger than need be. But there's also a challenging twinkle in his eyes, a smugness in his smile to meet Crowley's. Time to thwart some wiles, unless someone chooses to stop him.
"Well, if you won't stop her," he declares, "maybe I will!"
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This whole affair is at once Aziraphale's sincere, instinctive kindness and his selfish tunnel-vision, and Crowley's fingers aren't moving either. He's ready with another shit-eating grin the moment his angel turns back around from fretting, and he leans in just a little, glasses tilting slightly downward, a gleam of yellow showing for a split second underneath. "Are you going to thwart her?" ('Should I be jealous?' he almost goads, before deciding there are better times and places to test that one.) "Because I've got to see that. Go on and give her a hard stare, she's probably got some EDM saved up."
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This Free-Bird, as music goes, isn't so bad. But he dreads what EDM might be. How badly are his ears going to bleed from this. But. Fine. Two can play at this push and pull between them. He meets that golden stare and gives smug little snobbish smile as he slowly pulled his fingers away from Crowley's.
"Thwart her? Oh, my. Look who's forgetting our jobs now. No, I'm going to lead her back, er...lead her towards the path of righteousness, as per my job. But--" He gives a considering look, fluttering his lashes as if in thought. "--I suppose," he draws out the word. "If you'd like to watch, I could thwart someone other than you. Change things up. Variety is the spice of life, and all."
no subject
Six thousand years and Crowley's still not sure how Aziraphale can go from fumbling a top hat, or not looking to see if Crowley's cheated during a coin toss, to looking at the demon like that as if he completely knows what he's doing.
His fingers flex unconsciously as Aziraphale drifts away, and he thinks he's just about held on to his lead when Aziraphale says the words 'if you'd like to watch' while batting his eyes, which is just ridiculous. And unfair.
"Ngk," Crowley says, before hiding it in a cough. "I...well. Don't see why you couldn't. It's not like I thought I had the only wiles you've ever thwarted. Best ones, maybe..." He's still leaning in, and goes sotto voce as an excuse to do so even more.
"'Course, I never said 'job', did I? Said 'supposed to', never said job. We haven't got those, no official duties, we are...blisssfully unemployed." He leans on the sibilant just a little.
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He leans in to match, lowering his own voice in that way they have so privately held conversations nearly all their Earthly existence. With a little shrug he pretends to consider. Best ones, certainly. The twinkle in his eyes betrays him.
"I see a wile, I thwart," he teases, throwing Crowley's words back at him. "Doesn't really suggest any sort of exclusivity there, no. But you are onto something," he adds, mulling it over. "I don't have a job anymore. All things considered, I don't even need to do what I'm supposed to either, do I?"
no subject
Right now he's fighting his own temptation not to take Aziraphale's hand back and entwine it with his. But he's very familiar with that one.
Instead he lets that smirk grow a little wider, keeps himself tantalizingly close, and asks with just a hint of 'I win': "Still mad?"
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He wrinkles his nose and looks away just so that he can hold onto the facade and what little dignity he has right now and not outright admit Crowley has won.
But Crowley has won, without question. "What if I say I am?"
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He nudges the angel gently, affectionately. It really is livening up, and the others seem to be having a good time. No reason not to enjoy it. "Come have some cake. You can't tell me you weren't eyeing at least half this spread for yourself."
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He settles back in beside Crowley. Aziraphale is almost giving up the ruse of being angry, wiggling a little into his seat, but he turns up his nose at Crowley's accusation.
"I have not. I bought it so that others could enjoy it." His appreciative glance back at the various cakes gives him away, however, and he sighs. "Fine. I'll take a slice of the lemon. And the chocolate. But only because you insist."