ansa vilt í náttini svørtu // catch-all // semi-open

[lunchbreaks]

characters: Aziraphale and... you?
location: Miner's Castle #3, or your home, or town square
date/time: Jan 7th-25th ish?
content: Catch-all up to the total blackout event (??? i forgot what this was called again and i just looked it up)
warnings: Extremely fussy angel



It's cold outside (open)
[ Aziraphale took all of the vegetables and the meats and seasonings that Crowley had gotten from the grocery - braved the cold to go retrieve him, bless - and naturally used it to make soup. A lot of soup. Way too much soup. In fact, this is a miraculous amount of soup for the ingredients used, and quite tasty. It helps that it's been bulked up by some sort of grain - rice, noodles, perhaps both. It's not as hearty as a stew, but it manages to fill container upon container.

Which means that, naturally, at your door, stands a snowman-looking being. He has pale blue eyes and frosty eyelashes peeking up over his scarf. He appears to have either fashioned a coat out of a comforter, or just to be wearing one tied around himself, since he looks more marshmallow than human at the moment.

But what is really, really important, is that he is holding an impossibly hot container in his hands. ]

May I come in? I've made some soup for your household.

Let's stay in (closed to Miner's Castle #3 Residents)
[ It's cold outside, so once everyone's in and there appears to be enough supplies for everyone to hunker down for duration of the cold snap, Aziraphale starts to place pieces of fabric or fuzz or whatever is available around the sides of windows, around the edges of doors, to try and fill in the gaps.

He frowns at the sheer amount of items needing covered, wonders if he shouldn't just draw the curtains and tape them shut. Occasionally he'll either enlist the help of one of his housemates, or go check up on them to make sure they're not in need of tea or a blanket. ]

You'll catch cold like that.

[ He'll say this, regardless of how warmly the other is dressed.

Eventually, he might pull out a boardgame from a previous resident, and blow off the dust, set up the pieces, and see if his family would like to stay snowed-in and play. ]

Oh look, yarn! (open)
[ Aziraphale can't knit or crochet to save his life. But what he can do is make frames out of sticks, and wrap the yarn around them to make snowshoes. It doesn't look like this is going to melt anytime soon, or quickly, so he thinks this might be a pertinent venture. If you ask, he'll make you a pair. Or, he'll teach you! ]

Comments

[lunchbreaks]

"Well, yes, because he hadn't asked me and we didn't even know each other at the time, and because I had asked him for your name, and he didn't have one to give. I thought that was rather rude of him, but it had nothing to do with you, my dear. I would've been annoyed no matter who it was he brought home."

Then, realization dawns on him and his face softens. "Oh, have you thought all this time that I was angry with you?"

[worthallthis]

Angry might be overstating it, but... "A little. Yes. Or just didn't want me here. I'm not easy to live with." Screaming nightmares multiple times a week. The strictly regimented schedule and difficulty deviating from it except in cases of emergency. The time spent cleaning guns and sharpening knives, though at least now they can do that in their own room instead of the kitchen table. The fact that they're a large human-shaped thing taking up space in a not super big house.

There's good things, too, of course... but the Soldier is not really great at recognizing those as benefits to their housemates.

[lunchbreaks]

"Oh, my dear boy. Well, I am glad that you are living with us," he says. After all, he cooks all the time, and he uses the bathroom so the pipes always work, and he has a soothing presence on Crowley, Aziraphale always feels. "I'm so sorry I made you think you were unwelcome."

Oh, now he's sad. "I'm happy to have... cleared that up, at least."

[worthallthis]

The Soldier tries a smile, worn out now, but kind of relieved. If that's true, then maybe they're just over-reacting. Associating too strongly with the doctor with the bow tie. Interpreting cues incorrectly. It's possible, especially with an angel that might show things differently than a human would, right? "It's okay. I tend to over-react, too." Hence the whole shut-down problem. The tendency bleeds over into most things.

[lunchbreaks]

"Yes, well, hopefully we can avoid miscommunications like this in the future," he says, still with a look of guilt all over his face. "We must, anyway, what with.... Crowley still asleep."

[worthallthis]

This would be a great time to give Aziraphale a reassuring pat. The Soldier even considers it, tries making their hand move. But after the practice with shut-down, the three memories, and the brief confessional, they can't make themselves do it. "Yeah. How. Long does he usually do this for." Aziraphale would know. And asking after Crowley might make that look go away. They're really not used to causing looks like that on people's faces; nobody should feel guilty because of them, damn.

[lunchbreaks]

He looks down at that, shyly. "Oh... generally only for a night... but," he trails off, looking towards the distance, blowing out a breath as casual as can be for someone who's always nervous. "Once he was asleep for, oh, about..."

"...a hundred years..."

[worthallthis]

Talk as quietly as you like, Aziraphale, you're crouched basically right in front of the Soldier and they have enhanced hearing. They stare at him. "A hundred years," they repeat, incredulous. Then they look in the direction of the stairs, alarmed. "Why."

[lunchbreaks]

"Well, I don't know, sometimes it just happens. I didn't check up on him afterwards. Sometimes we didn't see each other for that long, you know. In the beginning, we'd gone a thousand years before running into each other," he says. "So he might've had a longer nap than that. He just... likes his sleep, is all."

[worthallthis]

There's a pause while the Soldier tries to comprehend that. They'd wanted to go back to cold storage, sometimes, and maybe not come out again. But that was less because they liked it, and more because it was the only place that didn't hurt. Does Crowley find living that horrible that he has to willingly sleep away decades, centuries, of his life?

They stare into their teacup before asking, in a maybe kind of small voice, "He's not gonna sleep that long here, is he?"

[lunchbreaks]

"Oh, I sure hope not," he responds. "That would be quite terrible, I think, he'd miss all the action. And he'd hate that."

Aziraphale nods resolutely, hoping that something in Crowley's subconscious is going to wake him up. He hasn't been able to.

[worthallthis]

There is the whole deadline thing. If they don't solve the World Eater problem in another year and a half, Crowley won't be able to wake up, because they'll all be reset. Killed.

Best not to think about that, and the Soldier is an expert at not thinking about things. "As long as sleeping won't hurt him."

[lunchbreaks]

Yeah, listen, Aziraphale has considered this and he doesn't like it either, but at the very least, not having Crowley's help also means not having to make sure Crowley doesn't do something extremely stupid.

It's not ideal, but it's a singular bright side.

"No, definitely not. I'll let you know if I start worrying about that," he says. In case, uh, he starts losing enough energy to keep a human form or something...

No need to tell that to the Soldier.

[worthallthis]

"All right." Yeah, the thought that Crowley (or Aziraphale, for that matter) has another form has not and probably will not occur to the Soldier unless somebody drops some hints. For now, they're mostly calmed down and getting cramped down here against the wall, and they've made the executive decision to Not Think About Crowley Sleeping for now, so they lever themselves back to their feet, careful not to spill the rest of the tea. "I'm going to start lunch. Do you want anything?"

[lunchbreaks]

"Oh yes, thank you. I am feeling a bit peckish. What's on the menu today, dear?" he asks, more than happy to change the subject. Sorry Buck, no need to explain today that Aziraphale might or might not have left the house because he sometimes grows more eyes than a spider.