smk_network | a little more inspiration....

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a little more inspiration....

It is late afternoon on the eighteenth, and as the mirror swims to life, it focuses on Aziraphale who is standing about halfway back in the bedroom. He stands, hands tucked in front of him, smiling but looking slightly nervous, his wings arched a bit as if he wants to show them off but not be too obvious. He smiles at the...well...mirror. Fingers clenching a little bit.

When he speaks, though, his voice is low and soothing; warm like honey and pleasant. As if he's happy to see you. And in a way, he is.

"Hello. It's nice to meet you all. My name is Aziraphale and I'm an Angel. Well... Principality if you want to be precise, but that doesn't particularly matter here. First of all, I want to thank everyone who helped me out the other day and apologize for being a bit short with them. This human body is a new thing for me and I rather fear I don't have the hang of it quite yet.

But, we're all a little out of our element here, aren't we? This is a new place for us. A new experience. And a battle we must fight for the good of others who need our help. And sometimes, we can feel stuck, trapped even-- For instance, my wings are rarely displayed and not precisely corporeal when they are. If I need to remove my coat, I can do so with ease. Now, unfortunately, they are as solid as the rest of me.

And yet..." He dips his head and there is a bit of a cheeky smile. "With a little Faith." He hopes. No! Believes! "We can perform miracles."

Then he closes his eyes and focuses, concentrates, believes with everything in him that he still has the capacity for this kind of faith, this kind of miracle. That he will be able to take off his clothes with no problems at all.

All at once he can feel something catch. Something bright and cool and refreshing flow through him and around him.

Anyone looking in would be able to see a faint white gold light beginning to shimmer around him, a wind stirring the curtains and his hair. Perhaps there is a faint vibration, for the mirror slips, so only his head and shoulders are in view. The light seems to flash around him and then--!

He can feel the coolness leave him slowly, like a wave pulling from shore. With a thrilled smile he looks down and notices he did indeed manage to remove his coat as he'd hoped. Or perhaps made it disappear completely. As well as his vest, his shirt, his undershirt-- in fact the only thing left is the fob watch lying helpfully between his bare feet.

"Ah-- Ahem. Well! Slight miscalculation! But as you can see! Everything is just...just tickety...." And then the cold rushes back at once like a tsunami and for the second time in as many days, darkness crashes through him and he pitches forward and out of view.

There is a faint thud as he hits the floor.

But he'll be able to reply to any and all responses in a few hours...

...Probably.

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Rose throws both hands up in exasperation. What the hell did she wait around for this stupid angel to regain consciousness for? God he's so--!!!

She hands the soup back to Sylvando, kisses his cheek, muttering, "You're too good for this headache," and she is basically ouuuuuuuuuuuut. PEACE!

"If you do need help," she's literally out the door, and yelling back like when she stormed off on Mal before. "Call someone you can withstand!!!"

Normally, she'd be nice enough to always say herself there, but no, she is over nine-thousand DONE.

Hm, that had been... something. Crowley's own thoughts were much the same as Sylvando's as he passively watched Rose storm out of the room. Clearly that had been the climax of whatever drama had sent the angel out into the streets last night.

At least things were settled then. Loudly enough to wake anyone still asleep, but settled.

"Valorian bouillabaisse. I'm not familiar with that."

Though as his stomach began to ache he realized he would very much like to become familiar with it! Crowley stood and invited himself to stay by gesturing towards Aziraphale's kitchen.

"Course if you are still too tired," he turned back to speak to Aziraphale, "We could save you some for later."

He generously gave the angel an 'out' in case he would rather not have to deal with anymore of this today.

He shot Crowley a look of pure relief.

"Please." That would be heavenly. If he had to deal with one more human right now he was going to-- he didn't know, but he would end up regretting it.

"Actually I think I might take a bath." Something very long and very quiet. "And if you find any wine, bring me some." He would tell him not to worry as there would be bubbles, but he supposed now it was a bit of a moot point.

And then abruptly, Sylvando was handed back the soup and kissed before Rose stormed out. He turned to watch her go, somewhat nonplussed. "Well, that was certainly a dramatic exit," he said. He supposed he could ask Rose what it had all been about later, but it might be best not to.

Ah well, back to more immediate concerns. "Well, given that it and I are from Erdrea, and you two are almost certainly not, that's not surprising," he said in response to Crowley's comment.

And since it didn't take a genius to catch the emphasis in Aziraphale's voice with regards to not wanting to come with them, he simply nodded and headed out to the apartment's kitchen. However flippant he could seem, causing the angel further distress was the opposite of what he wanted. And there was enough soup that he certainly wouldn't miss out.

Crowley lingered a little longer by Aziraphale's bedside. They did have a great deal to talk about but it could be later. A bath sounded divine even to the demon, but food was irritatingly essential apparently and the scent of that soup was calling to him.

"There's probably some kind of wine around."

He would look for some and bring a glass, or a even a bottle with him, if he found one. Crowley was not intimidated by the possible lack of protective bubbles.

Then he followed Sylvando's trail to the kitchen leaving Aziraphale blissfully alone to recuperate.

The kitchen was a well organized one but never really having had need of a kitchen before now Crowley wasn't really sure where to look for bowls, or spoons, those might have been nice things to have too. He opened up each cabinet and drawer he came to and pawed through them.

"Do you always do this, introduce yourself with food?"

Sylvando set the tureen down on the counter and did his best to make himself unobtrusive while Crowley got Aziraphale set up in the bathroom. When he emerged back into the kitchen and began hunting around, Sylvando moved to assist, figuring that the apartments were likely set up all the same way. He pulled a couple bowls and water glasses out of the cupboard while Cowley searched the drawers for silverware.

"Oh no, darling," he said. "Usually my entrances are much more dramatic. But I think we've all had enough of dramatic entrances for the past day or two, hmm? And besides, I figured that your friend would likely need something good to eat when he woke up; what with being knocked out by magic twice in as many days."

The spoons were eventually discovered in the last drawer he opened to search through. Figures. Some how things like this were always in the last place you looked. The water glasses were cute though, and given a light sneer, before the hunt began again to see if any wine or wine glasses had been provided.

"Yeah, there's no need for more drama. Any more of that and this hotel would probability explode."

It very nearly had when Ace, his former roommate, and heated his old room to those Hellish levels. Speaking of...

"You aren't a demon are you? Carrying a knife? Hidden... bazooka maybe?"

Sylvando noticed the slight sneer at the water glasses, but met it with an squally slight shrug. If Crowley could find wine and wine glasses and still have enough left for Aziraphale, Sylvando would gladly join him in it, since he figured that everyone in their little group could use a drink. If not, they'd still have something to drink with their soup.

He gave a bit of a wry chuckle at Crowley's comment about the general level of drama. That was certainly true. His next question though, caught Sylvando a bit off guard. "A demon?", he repeated in surprise. Of course, if Aziraphale and possibly Crowley were angels, naturally, they'd be concerned about demons. So he supposed the question made sense. "Believe me, if I was a demon, you'd know; I can't speak for the ones from your world, but the ones from Erdrea tend to stick out in a crowd. Not to mention they have no taste whatsoever; even the few that wear more than a loincloth and a few bits of armor are horribly tacky. I wouldn't be caught dead looking like that."

"And I'm not armed, either," he said. At least he assumed a 'bazooka' was some sort of weapon, as that's how it sounded in context. "I'll have to get a weapon sooner or later, but even when I do, I'm not likely to bring it on a friendly visit; so gauche, you know?"

"Thought my last roommate was a demon..."

Crowley spoke as he discovered the wine cabinet and pulled a safe looking vintage from it. This wine was nothing special but it wasn't the dregs either, a nice simple little wine with a light fruity flavor. He poured himself a glass.

"Turned out to be the Antichrist and tried to kill me."

Which would ideally explain the odd questions and the way Crowley kept his eyes on their soup bearing guest just in case he was being less than honest about not having a weapon on him. Ace hadn't seemed armed either until that knife appeared!
He jangled the wine bottle in Sylvando's direction as if to ask, 'want some?' without having to be verbal about it.

Sylvando moved to take the wine bottle with a nod of thanks, pouring himself a glass. Then, since Crowley had been kind enough to locate the wine, Sylvando found a ladle in the same drawer as the spoons had been and ladled them both some of the soup before settling into a kitchen chair with his portion. Upon trying it, Crowley would find that it was a very tasty seafood soup, hearty enough to potentially sustain someone through significant physical exertion without being so heavy that it would weigh them down, and seasoned in such a way as to make the flavors of the fish, shellfish, and other ingredients blend together into a cohesive whole.

"Ah yes, I can see where that would make you wary of even friendly visitors," Sylvando said. "Though I'm afraid I've never heard the term 'Antichrist' before. What exactly does it mean?"

First the soup, Crowley thought as the dug an eager spoon into the liquid. Now he had eaten a seafood soup before. His ~~friend~~, loosely associated business rival with whom he was very Professional, often liked to take their business meetings in fancy restaurants. Always with five star ratings... once the Star System of ratings had been invented. But this was his first actual taste of food in this new world. He had ignored the food at the welcome party, had only a coffee last night and by now his poor stomach was craving some thing more solid. So this... in addition to being thought of as a absolutely wonderful soup, was actually briefly considered to be the best soup he had ever eaten!

Sylvando would, however, have to guess that from the speed in which it was eaten. Demons weren't the best at letting compliments fly.

"You have demons but no Antichrist? You're lucky. That is Satan's son, half human, meant to destroy the Earth after his eleventh birthday. You've really never heard of him?"

Yes, Sylvando could tell by how fast the soup was disappearing that Crowley very much enjoyed it and smiled, enjoying his own at a slower pace. Here, even more so than on the road back home, it was comfortingly familiar in a place where little else was.

And the name might not have rung a bell, but the description obviously did. "Not by that name, no," Sylvando explained. "But there are prophesies about a similar child in Erdrea called the 'Darkspawn'. Though if I recall correctly, they weren't quite so specific regarding age and the like; just that if he were ever to arise, he would bring ruin upon the world." And who knew; maybe he had. He had no clue whether Mordegon qualified as the Darkspawn, but he certainly fit the 'bringing ruin' part.

"Our stories weren't specific either I just had," A glance at Sylvando, "...insider information."

Came from being the delivery service and being the one meant to watch over the kid on Earth all those years. It was too bad that it had been the wrong child...

"The Darkspawn? Wonder if that was in the 'great plan' too. I've noticed since arriving here that many worlds have their own version of the Antichrist."

Testing the entire universe to destruction, all at the same time, why?! That made even less sense to him than picking on the humans on Earth!

"Where odd things happening on your world?"

Sylvando quirked an eyebrow at the mention of 'insider information', but didn't say anything. Partly because what came next somewhat overshadowed it, Sylvando's expression becoming more serious and hinting at the answer to Crowley's question before he'd even said anything.

"'Odd' is certainly one way of putting it, darling," Sylvando said, considering how far he wanted to get into things. How much of the story he wanted to tell. Finally he just sighed and said, "I'm afraid it's a bit of a long story, though. And a great deal of it has more to do with the Luminary- the one destined to drive out the darkness- than the Darkspawn. Truly, I'm not even sure there was a Darkspawn, or if those tales were just a ploy by the Lord of Shadows, but true or not, it doesn't change what happened."

"So I suppose the question is, how much of the story do you want to hear?", he asked. "All of it? Or should I just skip to the ending?" He honestly wasn't sure which he preferred. Neither would be especially pleasant to tell, so he left it up to Crowley.

Crowley's nose crinkled again.

"That's usually the way it is. The 'light' must have better PR people."

The shrugged lightly as he poured himself a glass of wine to go with the soup.

"Maybe just skip to the ending, if there is one?"

Sylvando didn't miss the way Crowley referred to the 'light', but for the moment opted not to comment on it.. He nodded slightly at Crowley's choice. The short version was probably the better option anyway.

"An evil sorcerer named Mordegon possessed the King of Heliodor," Sylvando said. "He used that position to spread the lie that the Luminary was really the Darkspawn, and to bring the might of Heliodor's greatest knights to bear against him. But all of that was just the opening act; a means to an end."

"Disguised as the King, he was able to make his way to Yggdrasil, the great World Tree," he said. "All the way to the Heart of Yggdrasil in fact; the source of all life in Erdrea, and the most sacred place in it. Once there, he ambushed the Luminary and ripped his power from his body."

"He used that power to get access to the Heart of Yggdrasil and claim the Sword of Light, the weapon meant to defeat the darkness. He corrupted the Sword, twisting it into his own Sword of Shadows, then used it to drain away the power of the Heart of Yggdrasil itself, causing the World Tree to wither and fall."

"Mordegon used his new power to rain destruction down on Erdrea, and took up a new title: the Lord of Shadows. His Fortress of Fear took Yggdrasil's place in the sky, and all those who managed to survive his initial rain of destruction spend their days living in fear, just trying not to give in to despair or become a monster's dinner."

"And that's how things have been for the past few months," he said. "My boys and I do what we can to bring a few smiles back to people's faces, but..." He shrugged, sighing a bit. "There's only so much our little parade can do, you know?"

He didn't mention how he knew what had happened at the Heart of Yggdrasil, but Crowley might find it telling that Sylvando knew so much detail of the confrontation.

"So evil won?"

Oddly enough he found he had mixed feelings on that. If evil won the coming conflict on Earth he wouldn't be trapped in an eternal pit... but too much would change or be destroyed! And who knew what would happen to the angels, or more specifically one particular angel.

"That's a twist. Good is always so certain it will be the one that wins."

"Si," Sylvando said simply. Evil won, and now... now no one knew quite what to do. Or if there was even anything to be done.

"I think it's more that, for most of us, we don't dare think too much about the alternative," he said. Even if they now had no choice.

"Though that may be a bit different for you, hmm?" Yes that was totally an attempt to shift the conversation away from what was happening in his own world by hinting that he'd figured out the Crowley was a demon.

Sylvando had never spoken to an angel about Armageddon, trust him, good was always so very sure it would win. Aziraphale had been terribly arrogant about that until the issues with a perfectly 'good' world were pointed out to him.

"A bit."

The outed demon took a long sip from his wine glass, before confirming those suspicions in his own way.

"I don't care for loincloths, drafty things."

The dark wings would have given him away even if he was a good deal more fashionable than demons from Sylvando's world. He wasn't really trying to hide here.

Strictly speaking, Sylvando had never spoken to an angel about anything, as he had yet to have an actual conversation with Aziriphale. But even if he had he might well agree with Crowley that a perfectly 'good' world wouldn't be all that it was cracked up to be.

"I don't blame you at all, darling," he said. "Though I will admit, I took you for another angel at first, given that you have far more style than any demon I've ever encountered. And of course your lovely wings; the few sorts of demons in my world who have wings at all tend to have ones more similar to a bat's or dragon's wings, not ones with feathers."

"Not to mention that very few monsters of any sort would be inclined to sit down for a reasonable conversation with a human," he added. "Though there are exceptions to that, of course."

Ha! Excellent point! It was more like talking at Aziraphale at the moment rather than with him, the poor angel had been asleep for most of it.

The rest of what Sylvando said he was halfheartedly of the mind to be offended by. Being mistaken for an angel! Really! His wings were black as night not white like an angel's... granted they looked the same beyond that, same shape, same feathers. He supposed there was some kind of ineffable point to be made in that but he wasn't the one to make it.

Instead he stretched his wings slightly before tucking them in neatly behind him and finishing off his wine.

"I've found conversations are a better way to get to know your neighbors."

And in this case a better way to ensure you will get more of their cooking in future.

"It was a excellent meal. We will have to do this again once Aziraphale is feeling up to joining us."

"Given the usual tactics of demons in my world, that's quite true," Sylvando said. "And also a much better way of ensuring that you still have neighbors to get to know." After all, the demons and other sorts of monsters in Erdrea didn't tend to go in as much for the tempting, and tended to skip straight to maiming, murdering, and generally causing mayhem and destruction. Not exactly things that would make anyone want to live nearby.

Meanwhile Sylvando took the cue to wrap up their conversation for what it was, and finished his own wine. "That we must," he said. "I hope he feels better soon. And do let him know that his demonstration was appreciated, even if it didn't quite go as planned."

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a little more inspiration....

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