The Norwegian Civil War
Jul. 21st, 2019 07:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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The Norwegian Civil War:
copperbadge:
Title: The Norwegian Civil War
Rating: General Audiences
Summary: It had never been Aziraphale’s intention to found a sort of secret society of angry angels. Certainly he’d never even imagined he might run a halfway house on Earth for them.
***
If an archangel were going to come to him, it was perhaps least surprising that it was Uriel.
News of Aziraphale’s treason had been very limited.* Only Gabriel, Uriel, and Sandalphon had been in the execution chamber. They’d probably told Michael, but not anyone else. Gabriel was, Aziraphale now recognized, the sort of crazy that’s gone through sane and out the other side; the kind of company man who has lost a sense of reason in maintaining a sense of loyalty. Michael was playing a long game of some kind, and Sandalphon was just what the humans would call a psychopath.
* They’d intended to put out the press release after Aziraphale’s execution.
But Uriel was a bit more of an enigma, and so when they showed up in the bookshop, it seemed almost rational.
Mind you, Aziraphale was having none of Heaven’s nonsense anymore. He’d asked Crowley – tit for tat in re: holy water – for some hellfire, and Crowley had said absolutely not, it was far too volatile, especially around the books. He’d had a point but, as much as it pained Aziraphale to admit it, books were immaterial if Heaven wanted you dead. Eventually they’d settled on a compromise, and the Hell Aga stood in a corner of the shop with the tip of a poker eternally heating in it.
When Uriel manifested in the bookshop, Aziraphale blanched for a second, then remembered the Hell Aga and reached for the poker tucked into its infernal oven, brandishing it defensively. Uriel eyeballed the glowing poker warily.
“Aziraphale,” they said, eyes never leaving the red glow. “I’ve come under a treaty flag.”
“Funny, I don’t remember agreeing to any treaties before you consigned me to hellfire,” Aziraphale retorted.
“Fine. A flag of surrender, then,” Uriel said, spreading their hands and their wings, showing they were unarmed. “I only want to talk. I have….”
They paused so long Aziraphale grew suspicious, until finally they sighed.
“I have questions,” they finished quietly.
Read on here!
The Norwegian Civil War:
copperbadge:
Title: The Norwegian Civil War
Rating: General Audiences
Summary: It had never been Aziraphale’s intention to found a sort of secret society of angry angels. Certainly he’d never even imagined he might run a halfway house on Earth for them.
***
If an archangel were going to come to him, it was perhaps least surprising that it was Uriel.
News of Aziraphale’s treason had been very limited.* Only Gabriel, Uriel, and Sandalphon had been in the execution chamber. They’d probably told Michael, but not anyone else. Gabriel was, Aziraphale now recognized, the sort of crazy that’s gone through sane and out the other side; the kind of company man who has lost a sense of reason in maintaining a sense of loyalty. Michael was playing a long game of some kind, and Sandalphon was just what the humans would call a psychopath.
* They’d intended to put out the press release after Aziraphale’s execution.
But Uriel was a bit more of an enigma, and so when they showed up in the bookshop, it seemed almost rational.
Mind you, Aziraphale was having none of Heaven’s nonsense anymore. He’d asked Crowley – tit for tat in re: holy water – for some hellfire, and Crowley had said absolutely not, it was far too volatile, especially around the books. He’d had a point but, as much as it pained Aziraphale to admit it, books were immaterial if Heaven wanted you dead. Eventually they’d settled on a compromise, and the Hell Aga stood in a corner of the shop with the tip of a poker eternally heating in it.
When Uriel manifested in the bookshop, Aziraphale blanched for a second, then remembered the Hell Aga and reached for the poker tucked into its infernal oven, brandishing it defensively. Uriel eyeballed the glowing poker warily.
“Aziraphale,” they said, eyes never leaving the red glow. “I’ve come under a treaty flag.”
“Funny, I don’t remember agreeing to any treaties before you consigned me to hellfire,” Aziraphale retorted.
“Fine. A flag of surrender, then,” Uriel said, spreading their hands and their wings, showing they were unarmed. “I only want to talk. I have….”
They paused so long Aziraphale grew suspicious, until finally they sighed.
“I have questions,” they finished quietly.
Read on here!
