apocalypsehowcomm | (log) tdm prompts

[All in all, Crowley isn't so sure about the concept of hopping on a train for almost an entire day so they can go stop some nonsense in the Appalachians, but he'd been less keen about hanging about ADI with reduced staff, so here he is.

Most of his time is spent bothering Aziraphale, or dozing, but eventually he gets bored enough to go wandering, looking for someone else to bother so Aziraphale doesn't get fed up with him.

First stop is the dining car, where he grabs a couple of mediocre looking sandwiches, and then he's free to poke about and make a nuisance of himself. When he spots Katrina positioned in a seat by the window, he decides to say hi, dropping down into the seat beside her without much fanfare.]

Want one?

[A still-wrapped sandwich, since he has a spare.

Not that he's being nice or anything.]

[It had seemed like a good idea at the time, to offer to head out to a book fair with Aziraphale. They'd had a decent enough time at the flower festival, and nothing horrible happened, so it seemed safe enough.

He probably should have anticipated losing Aziraphale to the obviously very important task of trying to rescue dozens of books from the terrible fate of belonging in a library.

Now he's stuck at a book fair with little else to do than move things around willy-nilly just to be annoying. He's a little unsettled after the nonsense with the library card, but he's trying to put it out of his mind. Maybe it's part of ADI trying to make them look legitimate. Sign them up for library cards, run a few books through the system, that sort of nonsense.

It's a little harder to not dwell on it when he spots George in a conversation with one of the library staff, a few seconds of eavesdropping revealing that he's dealing with the same nonsense.

This might be the sort of situation it's wise to intervene in, so Crowley saunters on over as casual as anything.]

Hullo, George. [If he's interrupting mid-conversation that's someone else's problem.] They're not giving you a hard time, are they?

[There's no question that books are to Aziraphale as catnip is to cats, or whiskey is to Crowley, so as soon as he caught wind of the book fair, he'd started making vague plans.

(Fellas is it gay to pre-emptively plan a definitely-not-a-date around your best friends interests?)

About ten minutes of wandering around with Aziraphale, Crowley is fairly confident that things aren't about to go spectacularly tits up, which is a nice change of pace from recent events. He picks up the closest book to hand, idly flicking through it as he casts little glances at Aziraphale, trying to pretend he's not watching.]

We ought to have a competition. Which one of us can find the most books by people we've actually met.

[Aziraphale might have an upper hand on the fiction circuit, but if there's any kind of economics or business section, Crowley is unfortunate enough to have met many of those insufferable people.

But, they also met him.]

Crowley.

[He's glad to see him. A witness to this nonsense.]

They is. Keep insisting I'm in the system. I've checked out all these books, when I damn well ain't.

Specially not no 'Pie in the Sky.' Don't even sound like something I'd read.

[The librarian rolls her eyes. "Sir, I've already told you..."

He cuts her off.]

And I've already told you. Both of us broken records now. Don't make you any more right than the first time.

[So it is the same nonsense as what he and Aziraphale had to deal with, although he suspects it might be a little more unsettling for George, who hasn't been here very long at all, and seems to come from a fairly normal sort of world.]

Oh, s'probably some glitch in the system, hm?

[The hm is directed more at the librarian, an eyebrow arching up and his expression very much suggesting that she takes the out he's offering.]

Or I'd bet there's some George Millon in town that'll be very confused when he realizes they've spelt his name wrong. [He grins at George, although it's not entirely genuine.

George might be observant enough to figure out he's trying to diffuse the situation without getting the librarian's hackles up.] Means you won't have to worry about late fees, if that's the case. S'always a bonus.

[He had already suggested that, too. The woman seems more inclined to accept it from Crowley. He couldn't care less why. The fact that maybe she is, and she'll shut up about the dumb book and his account already in the system, is all that matters to him.]

Yeah, I reckon that's what's going on.

[Or he'd thought she'd accepted it. She shakes her head, looking up at both of them now. "No, it's George Milton. Since you two know each other, perhaps you can persuade Mr. Milton to hand over his ID card so I can check the address."]

Lady, that ain't gonna happen. You know what? No book is worth this rigmarole runaround. Don't even know why I come here in the first place. You stickin' around, Crowley?

[ Aziraphale is truly never not going to dip his toes into some proverbial book fair waters. It's a real balm on the nerves being around an excess of books in general. And it's sort of nice to be in a mental place where doing that is more soothing than anything.

Time will never heal the bookshop-shaped wound in his heart, but it gets easier to bear. Probably helped by the aforementioned balm of existing around books. Definitely helped by the fact that nothing seems to be going horribly, terribly wrong. Very much helped by the fact that it's always nice to be out with Crowley, while the city is not falling apart around them.

Big fan of that. He looks up from the back cover he was scoping. ]

Is that your way of saying that you think you've outpaced me? [ Angels can sound broadly delighted and also flirt a little bit, as a treat.

If he's been secretly obsessing over his own mental wooing pathways lately, that's his business. ]

[ Trains are new. Being so far from the ocean is also new. But she wants to stop the Entities from doing their work, so she has gone along on the trip.

The food is... subpar, even for humans, but it speaks to a need for sustenance over indulgence. That much she can relate to, and it has made eating easier. Being on land has made her a little bit soft. She thinks she understands now why Ryn wants so badly to work toward peace.

She hears footsteps approaching, but she doesn't move until he sits and speaks up.

She doesn't smile-- she's still working on making it look natural rather than terrifying-- but she doesn't do anything to indicate he's not welcome. Crowley is like her, not human. And he's intelligent. She trusts him, at least for now. ]

I had tuna sandwich one hour ago.

[ Fish, naturally.

Even so, she takes the sandwich from him. ]

I save for later. Thank you. You have ride train before?

[ Transitions are another thing she's working on. ]

[It's not unheard of for Aziraphale to come across as a little bit flirty, on occasion. He sort of just has a vibe that way and Crowley tends to know better than to take it personally, but that doesn't stop it from being delightful.]

Outpaced. Is that the word we're using? You're making it sound like we're counting notches on a bedpost.

[If Aziraphale can flirt as a treat, then Crowley is going to be a bastard as a treat.

Bold of him to make this joke when it's almost entirely likely that Aziraphale has, in fact, slept with more people than he has.]

[ Crowley said "sometimes my crush has thot energy and I both respect and delight in it," and he's right.

Aziraphale does... a scoff. A scoff that says he considered huffing but decided not to, because there are vital differences in nuance that are important to both. ]

No, I rather think you're making it sound like that. Does fortune still favor the bold when it's a bold interpretation?

[ Bedpost notches are rude to furniture. Collect sentimental trinkets across thousands of years without buying a bed, like a normal entity. ]

I would have thought I'd notice if you were making notable rounds in the literary scene, though. [ Not that he would have had a secret collection of works that Crowley had, for whatever reason, probably influenced. Or anything. Definitely purely for the social currency of knowing about it. ] When was this?

[Crowley isn't even a little bit surprised by the lack of smile or general sort of — vibe that Katrina has, but he's equally not bothered by it. If she didn't want the company, he's certain that she'd say something. There's some reassurance in being friends with someone who's so straightforward, he never has to worry where he stands.

He gives a little nod of acknowledgement to her thanks, which is an improvement on outright brushing it off.

#growth]

Oh, loads. First one I ever rode was pulled by horses, but those were mostly for moving around goods, not nearly as posh as this. [Not that it's especially posh, but it's a big step up from a wagon bed being pulled by horses.] They used to be a fantastic way to get around, especially if you had the money for a nice room.

[Which he always did, of course.]

How are you liking it?

[Things Crowley did not anticipate: Aziraphale playing along with this stupid joke instead of just huffing at him and telling him to knock it off. Once again he's been hoisted by his own petard, only in this case it's flustered by his own flirting.

He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, but manages to collect himself ]

What makes you think I've had anything to do with literature?

[Please.

Even if this wasn't almost entirely bullshit, there's some truth there. He popped into the literary scene on occasion, but that was always been Aziraphale's area and he tried to keep some distance.]

[ All along, the secret to victory was deliberately and purposefully flirting back. Aziraphale never would have used that life hack, because having a bit of a moment just to get the upper hand would be cruel, obviously.

But that doesn't make the extended processing any less of an endearing look on Crowley. Which is where the real victory is.

He pauses in the middle of carefully flipping through a couple of pages-- all part of the classic dilemma of not really knowing what he's in the mood for, simply enjoying the process of getting to look at a bunch of books while he figures it out- specifically to look at Crowley with Mild Offense. ]

You were the one who brought up meeting authors in the first place.

[A look of Mild Offense is far more in line with their regular protocol. Much easier for Crowley to handle and respond to, with a pointedly raised eyebrow.]

This may come as something of a shock, but sometimes humans write books that aren't literature.

[This, fortunately, covers everything from non fiction books, to low brow fiction that people in Aziraphale's circles wouldn't deem worthy of being literature.]

[ Things on land are starting to fascinate her more than give her cause to look down on land-dwellers. Trains. Cars. Their buildings and amusements. Their music and dancing. She can see clearly how it all drew Ryn in and made her want friendship with humans. ]

It is okay. Noisy, but fast. Mountains and forest are beautiful and deep, good for hunting.

[ A slight pause, as she backtracks a little. ]

What are horses?

[ The audacity.

The accuracy. ]

And I'm certain I love all the humans who write them equally. [ Shepherd and guardian. Etc., etc. ] But no one ever said I had to bother with what they put out.

[Two roads diverged in a local book fair and Crowley decides to take the path that may be far too bold.

Apparently he's decided to just roll with this flirting thing, now that it's happening.]

Well, see, there's your problem right there, not worrying about who's putting out.

[Ba dum tish]

[There's something to be said for paring things back to the most simple points; Crowley appreciates that about Katrina.]

Horses are a land animal. Awful things to ride and stink something terrible, but they're alright from a distance. They're sort of big, have hooves, a long face. [He sort of — makes a long horse face gesture with his hands. You know the one.] I'd pull up a picture, but I doubt we've got any signal out here.

[A tragedy for so many reasons.]

[ Yeah, she can't really imagine them. Hooves she knows, because she has seen (and hunted and killed) deer. Horses she needs to see. She's curious. Humans use them to pull cars, for transportation. Interesting. ]

In town we go to, if they have pictures, I want to see.

[ Riding them. Humans are fascinating. ]

This is first time I go so far from the ocean. Maybe it will be last. It is--

[ Is it just her, or did that feel particularly bumpy? She scowls a little. ]

Train is shaky.

They'll likely have real horses where we're going.

[Crowley doesn't actually know all that much about the Appalachians, but humans are fond of horses, especially in areas where it isn't as easy to travel by car.

He'd also bet that Katrina will be a fan of horses. She has a horse girl vibe.

And would likely prefer them to trains, if nothing else.]

The tracks're old up here, probably just a bit wobbly in places. I'd not worry about it too much.

[Famous last words.]

[Crowley gives the woman a really? sort of look, silently questioning why she didn't take the out when it was given to her, but he's not going to start an argument about it if George is choosing to leave.]

Nah, I'm good. You can get books for free anyway, if you know how to avoid the shopkeep at the store.

[He flashes the woman a bright grin in response to her scandalized look, but doesn't bother loitering once he's had the last word, simply picking a direction and heading that way, trusting that George will be coming with him.]

[ It's rude to make an angel snort in public. How very dare.

Then again, at least it's in line with the latest in deliberate flirt progress technology. Finally. A use for skills Aziraphale has historically put far more practice hours into than his sleight of hand. ]

You really haven't run with a proper literary circle, then, my dear. I would argue it's the last thing worth being worried about. By my accounting, they're all hoping to be asked and very happy to discuss their progress.

[ "Progress."

Source: being a tart and a gossip until the early 1900s. He could have sunk ships with his collected Deep Lore. ]

If in a roundabout, well-mannered sort of way.

[ It never even occurred to her that Wolf Pen might have horses. Slight surprise registers on her face. If she could do it without being terrifying, she would smile a little right now.

She's about to respond, when suddenly, the lights go out.

Immediately, she tenses, though her mind is mostly calm. ]

This is normal?

[The first thing Crowley does is twist around in his seat to look back where he left Aziraphale, not that he can make anything out.

It's just darkness, though, no screaming or horrible things coming out of the woodwork, so he keeps his seat for the moment.]

Ehhhh, could be normal, could be something weird. Hard to say with this place, but I'd keep your wits about you.

[It's a win for Crowley to make an angel snort in public.]

So what you're telling me is that authors are gossipy tarts? [Aziraphale might have put it politely but Crowley refuses to do so.

He also refuses to think about whether Aziraphale was actually doing more than just gossiping with these people. It's none of his business even if he cares very much about it.] That sounds about right, now I think about it. Who could forget Byron?

[The absolute incorrigible slut that he was.]

(log) tdm prompts

katrina; fearful tunnel syndrome

george; better read than dead

aziraphale; well read

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject