Boomtown App - CONTAINS SPOILERS
Jan. 1st, 2019 01:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
temptationaccomplishedPlayer's Name: Penbee
Characters Played Here: (None)
Character: Aziraphale
Series/Canon: Good Omens (TV)
From When? The End - A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square
Previous Game(s): (None)
World Description: (Original Characters Only) (N/A)
History:
wiki for a more condensed/cut-and-dry version or you can put up with my sidenotes and such below
In the beginning… The Principality Aziraphale thought he was doing the Good Thing by giving Adam (the first man, not the Antichrist) the Flaming Sword, but the Angel of the Eastern Gate of Eden...may have done the Bad Thing.
And when one's sole identity is as an embodiment of Good and Righteousness as an angel of God, it can be very trying to the soul to realize that one is not, in fact, always such. Especially for one as prone to worrying and fussing as Aziraphale.
Here on the wall of Eden, watching the newly banished humans make their way out of the Garden and into the harsh desert, Aziraphale meets the Enemy, a snake-demon named Crawly. They strike up a conversation and that wily old serpent—He who tempted Eve with the apple—suggests perhaps they both got it wrong: perhaps he, the demon, did good, tempting Eve, and the angel did bad, arming Adam and giving away the sword.
Oh dear. Perhaps he is right.
After all, God's plan is ineffable.
The unlikely pair will be seeing a lot of each other over the millennia: Crawly has been put on earth to tempt human souls towards evil—to gain numbers for Hell. Aziraphale is here to thwart him and make sure humanity tends toward goodness and Heaven. Miracles and temptations are their trade, their business, their bread and butter. This is their job, as it were, rival attachés to Earth, to humanity. But they are immortal, occult, and ethereal; aside from guiding and tempting, there should be no reason for them to grow attached to the mortal souls they are tasked with securing.
Or each other, for that matter.
Crawly and Aziraphale meet again over the years, at the Ark, at the Crucifixion, and each time Crawly—who changes his name to Crowley—draws doubt on God’s actions with logical, sometimes sympathetic arguments. Each time he chips away, opening uncomfortable questions Aziraphale does not (cannot, for to question is to Fall) and will not allow himself to fully ask.
Above all Crowley asks WHY?
Why do humans suffer? Why is knowledge bad? Why is choice wrong?
Aziraphale falls back on the safety-net of belief, that God’s plan is ineffable, impossible to know or comprehend, impossible to convey…and who is he to second guess the Plan? Who is anyone to do so? It is dangerous to question God. That is why Crowley is no longer an angel—he questioned God. Aziraphale knows he should not associate with a demon. Heaven would not like it. GOD would not like it.
And yet...
He tries, and fails, of his own doing, to maintain distance between himself and Crowley. After all, their experiences through time are shared; no one else, least of all the humans around them or the angels and demons residing Upstairs or Downstairs, can quite relate to the particular circumstances they find themselves in. By the years following Christ’s crucifixion, Crowley has become a familiar welcome face. Aziraphale greets him almost like a friend.
Neither manage to remain apart entirely from what humanity has to offer, either. They eat, though they do not need to. Crowley sleeps, though that too is unnecessary. They are fascinated by and occasional patrons to the arts. (Much later, Aziraphale will be the only angel ever to learn to dance.) Indulgences. Vices. Fondnesses.
They learn, they experience, they are influenced and changed by the world they are trying to influence. The two live on Earth and witness first-hand, in the trenches as it were, the trials and tribulations of humanity. They see the cruelty and wars, the prejudices, the crimes and senselessness. The invention. The wonder. The spectacle. Humanity, over the millennia, will manufacture its own terrible choices, worse yet than any that trickster Crowley EVER creates...and compassion better than anything Aziraphale might conjure in them.
Humanity has free-will to decide between Good and Evil for itself and that is inspiring. To two beings with designated roles to play and orders to obey, the ability to choose your path is something to be cherished and admired. Their assignments are sometimes awful, or the places sometimes damp, but they do come to love the world and the people.
Around 1020 AD the pair come to an Arrangement, an agreement to spare them both the trouble of travel and fuss: they will help cover each other’s respective Heavenly\Hellish assignments and share the load. One of them can provide both a miracle and a temptation, save the other one a trip; vice versa.
It works. Their home offices fail to notice or care, so long as the work gets done. The angel and the demon cancel each other out. Stability is maintained. Humanity carries on, creating their own good and evil independent of the angel and demon, that Crowley sometimes conveniently takes credit for. It gives Aziraphale and Crowley more time for their personal hobbies, and perhaps more excuses to run into each other.
They meet under the pretense of work. They meet in parks and theaters and restaurants, places where they can hopefully avoid detection (but places they mutually enjoy). They occasionally dine out together. They make allowances for each other’s whims. They fraternize far more than is healthy for a friends-close-but-enemies-closer relationship. Crowley, for his own part, is particularly indulging of Aziraphale—maybe to earn his favor for nefarious means? To make him more willing to keep up the dangerous arrangement?
I mean surely he would not help Shakespeare’s tragic play succeed just because the angel wants it to.
Surely not. After all, that’s almost kind. Demons are not kind and the two are definitely NOT friends.
Eventually, Aziraphale opens a bookstore [3] in what is currently known as SoHo. Crowley also takes up residence in London.
Perhaps fearing that his luck will run out and this friendship will put himself in danger, Crowley finally asks Aziraphale for “insurance.” Holy water. A bit of the water would kill a demon like Crowley. Kill him entirely, not merely discorporate him. There would be no coming back.
Does he mean it as a suicide pill?
Fearing that’s the case, Aziraphale refuses. He won’t let Crowley destroy himself. He calls their relationship "fraternization." Crowley takes offense. They argue and have a falling out.
The angel spends most of a century without the demon. He learns to dance at gentlemen-only clubs.
Then, WWII. Duped into aiding a fake British Intelligence Officer, Aziraphale finds himself at the end of a Nazi’s gun, facing discorporation again. Crowley comes to his rescue as before, burning his own feet over the consecrated ground of the church, rerouting a falling bomb onto the building to kill the Nazis, and miraculously rescuing Aziraphale’s books. He leaves saving the two of them in Aziraphale’s hands, putting faith in the angel to make sure they BOTH survive.
Oh, but how could he not save Crowley? How ever could he not?
Aziraphale eventually gives him a thermos of Holy Water, though it takes him almost another 30 years to do so. Crowley does go so much faster than him.
Somewhere in the modern era, circa 2007 or so, Crowley’s assignment delivers the Antichrist to a satanic nunnery outside Tadfield, initializing Armageddon. Due to a perfectly human and normal cock-up, the baby ends up in the arms of two ordinary humans, the Youngs. He is named Adam (the Antichrist, not the first man).
In a cliched twist everyone saw coming, the Antichrist was supposed to go home with an American ambassador and his wife. Instead they receive the child who was originally the Youngs’. He is then named Warlock.
Crowley, defying Hell, tells Aziraphale about the boy he believes to be the Antichrist: Warlock. Though Aziraphale is initially reluctant to join him, together they hatch a plan to keep the world they have come to enjoy and spare humanity from the coming war.
They will stop Armageddon by never letting it begin. If they can raise the boy to be neither good nor evil, the war doesn’t have to happen, the seas don’t have to boil, and Aziraphale doesn’t have to spend eternity listening to the Sound of Music. (God does so love that musical…)
But war, Heaven tells Aziraphale, is not meant to be prevented. It is meant to be won. Despite trying to toe the party line, he joins Crowley in trying to help teach the child.
By the time Warlock is 11, he shows no sign of powers and the scheduled hellhound fails to arrive. The angel and demon realize they have the WRONG BOY.
So then...where is the Antichrist?
They revisit Tadfield, only to find the nunnery has been converted into a paintball zone for business leadership workshops. The woman in charge, a former member of the nunnery, does not recall the needed details, so the angel and demon decide to return to London.
On the way back, they run into a young woman on a bicycle. Or she runs into them. Semantics. The Bentley and the bike collide. They drive her home after the accident, and she accidentally leaves her book in Crowley's car.
The book, as it turns out, is the sole remaining copy of The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch and the girl is Agnes Nutter's descendant Anathema.
Prophecy 3008 - When that the angel readeth these words of mine, in his shoppe of other menne's books, then the final days are certes upon us. Open thine eyes to understand. Open thine eyes and rede, I do say, foolish principalitee, for thy cocoa doth grow cold.
Aziraphale finds the book, realizes what it is, and does not tell Crowley, despite their plans to work together. His own investigation through Agnes’s prophecies turns up an address in Tadfield. When he rings the number, 666, Adam Young’s father—his earthly father, not his true Satanic one—answers the phone.
Oh dear. Right number!
Instead of telling Crowley he has located the boy, Aziraphale tries Heaven again, only to be repeatedly dismissed and reminded that the War has to happen. Unfortunately, this charade also draws the attention of the Archangel Michael, who, suspicious of Aziraphale, discovers that he and Crowley have a long history of working together and she contacts Hell.
Back on Earth, Aziraphale enlists a human agent of his, Witchfinder Shadwell, to locate and follow Adam Young, and he unknowingly sets into motion some of Agnes Nutter's prophecies.
But as far as Crowley knows, he and Aziraphale have no leads on the whereabouts of the child who will become the Antichrist. So, when he asks Aziraphale to meet him at the bandstand in the park to talk, he is desperate. Armageddon is practically on their heels. Crowley tries to convince him that they are their own side, independent of Heaven or Hell, and suggests that they could run off together, anywhere in the universe. He has a fast car and a plan to get them out of here. They could leave behind this world they had come to consider their home, this world their respective groups were about to destroy and fight over, and leave for the stars...just the two of them.
I don't even LIKE you! he claims in reply. You do! Crowley argues. It feels like one of their regular old petty disagreements, one where Aziraphale says no for the sake of saying no, because he's worries about these things, and Crowley leads him into the temptation he was always going to agree to anyway.
But this time, Aziraphale, always one for the rules, for going through the correct channels, for trying to do right by everyone, rejects him.
Not entirely deterred, because this is how they operate, Crowley asks again at the curb outside the bookshop. Run away with me, Angel. Again, Aziraphale says no, for certain this time, and an angry and hurt Crowley threatens to leave to the stars without him, to not even THINK about him—and drives off to sulk.
After some of the angels, including Michael, confront Aziraphale on the street and threaten him, Aziraphale decides to seek a higher authority: God. His call is intercepted by Metatron, who functions as the voice of God. Metatron, like the angels, tells Aziraphale that the war is meant to happen; that it will begin with a nuclear war.
Human weapons manipulated by Heaven and Hell…
So finally, forsaken even by God, he calls his only definite ally: Crowley ("I know where the Antichrist is…")—only to be hung up on. Crowley is busy being threatened by another demon—he can't talk right now.
Shadwell, stopping by in the hope of collecting funds, had peeped through the letter-slot and witnessed Aziraphale’s call with Metatron. He breaks in and confronts Aziraphale in his shop, accusing him of being a witch. Shadwell tries to banish him to Hell and instead accidentally backs the angel into the heavenly circle.
Aziraphale steps into the circle and, like the wily coyote realizing there is no cliff-edge beneath him, he has a moment to react—Fuck—before he is discorporated.
Frightened by what he believes to be his own power, Shadwell flees. A candle from the circle falls in his wake and catches the bookshop on fire. It burns. And burns. And burns.
Crowley, having managed to shake the demons threatening him—killing one with Aziraphale’s gifted Holy Water, trapping the other in the phone-line for the time being—rushes to the angel...and finds instead the bookshop ablaze and Aziraphale absent.
He runs into the building shouting for him. Aziraphale is not there. He's not anywhere. He is gone. Crowley assumes the worst. For the first time in a long time, Crowley is genuinely completely alone.
Hellfire would destroy an angel, just like Holy Water destroys demons.
In Heaven, the discorporated Aziraphale rebels against orders to take up his uniform and command his platoon, and instead transports his now-ghostly form back to earth to look for a body he might possess (angels don’t possess people, demons do that, but...there is a first time for everything). On earth, he finds Crowley, drinking and mourning, having believed Aziraphale dead.
“I lost my best friend.”
It might well be the first time either has put into words what they meant to each other. What is the risk now? What could Heaven and Hell do to them that it isn’t already? At the end of the world, does it matter anymore the risks of saying it?
In a stroke of devilish luck (or divine intervention), Crowley has saved Agnes Nutter's book from the fire and, with it, the notes Aziraphale has on Adam Young, the Antichrist. He urges Crowley to get a wiggle on and meet him in Tadfield, then sets off to find a body to borrow. It really is too bad he can’t possess Crowley’s, but you know...angel, demon; they'd probably explode.
Witchfinder Shadwell’s neighbor is a very patient and tolerant woman named Madame Tracy who works both as a medium and a courtesan. Today she is a medium and mid-seance, Aziraphale crashes the party, possessing her body and shooing out her clients.
He explains to her the circumstances surrounding the coming Armageddon, and asks to utilize her body to go to Tadfield Airbase to fix things. She agrees, despite an intervening Shadwell still trying to accuse Aziraphale of being a witch, and together the three of them take her (miracled-to-fly) scooter to Tadfield. There is little time left.
Prophecy 2213 - Four shalle ryde and three sharl ryde the Skye as two, and Wonne shal ryde in flames; and theyr shall be nostopping themme: not fish, nor rayne, neither Deville or Angel. And ye shalle be theyr also, Anathema.
Crowley arrives with his Bentley on fire (a rather long story, but the M25 had a bit of an issue that was Past-Crowley's fault and Present-Crowley's problem). Adam Young and his three friends and the hellhound Dog, having excised the Antichrist's internal demons with the power of love and friendship, cycle into the airfield to confront the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The Four—War, Pollution, Famine, and Death—have gathered here to initiate the nuclear war that will precipitate into the Armageddon. Anathema and Shadwell’s new recruit Newton have also shown up to serve their long prophesied role in stopping Armageddon. Everything is coming together.
Confronted with the Antichrist and little other planned, Aziraphale takes Shadwell's Witchfinder weapon to attempt to execute the child-Antichrist and prevent the war. It is a very angelic solution to a very demonic problem, and as he struggles with indecision—
Madame Tracy wrests control of her own body and spares the boy.
Adam has no idea who they are—this demon and this Witchfinder and this woman possessed by an angel—but he takes one look at Tracy and Aziraphale and decides that the Right thing would be to properly separate them, renewing Aziraphale's body. His powers currently bend reality to his will, and Adam will require that as they face down the Horsemen.
The Horsemen are all armed with their respective powerful items, and War's is a familiar flaming sword. By arming Adam (the first man, not the Antichrist) all those years ago, by enabling him to protect himself and Eve against the harsh world, Aziraphale also introduced to humanity a weapon of War.
But now the children face the Horseman and wield the flaming sword against them. With words and ideas (a belief in peace, in a clean world, in enough food), they defeat these embodied fears. Death cannot be destroyed, and he will return, but for now, they have a brief reprieve.
Crowley returns the Nice and Accurate book to Anathema, tossing it through the air to her across the tarmac. A piece of burnt paper tumbles out of it, fluttering down into Aziraphale's hands. It is a prophecy:
Prophecy 5004 - When alle is fayed and all is done, ye must choofe your faces wisely, for soon enouff ye will be playing with fyre.
Beelzebub and Gabriel arrive to fix what their agents have mucked up. Both try, as adults talking down to a child, to negotiate with Adam and force him to restart the Apocalypse. After all, it is Written. Revelations describes this Final War that has to happen. There are roles to be played, plans to fulfill, grudges to settle. These two great superpowers must decide once and for all who has the bigger gun.
That's when Aziraphale steps in. If God's plan is truly "ineffable" as believed, then really none of them can know what God actually wants. Crowley backs him up smugly, yet both know they are well and truly fucked when Gabriel and Beelzebub depart to return to Heaven and Hell.
Adam's father, Satan, will hear about this. And he will be pissed. They have no time. They have no plan. What will they do?
Aziraphale picks up his flaming sword and gives a panicked glare down at Crowley. Help, his expression says. What do we do? If the war begins, they will be divided, if they are not outright punished. They will never see each other again. That is, they know now, a fate they cannot stand.
He begs/threatens Crowley to do something, lest he never talk to him again and without hesitation, Crowley snaps and time ...stops.
In this kind of alternate space, Aziraphale and Crowley are alone with Adam. Crowley has bought them time to explain to the boy what is happening, that his powers bend reality, and that he will have to do something and do it soon if he hopes to save the world. They are proud of Adam. Aziraphale had feared he would be Evil Incarnate, hoped he would be Good Incarnate, but instead...without Angelic or Demonic intervention, Adam is perfect. He is Human Incarnate. A knowledge of what good and evil are and the Free Will and ability to choose his own path.
And so do something Adam does. When Satan tears through the Earth to confront them, Adam denies him. He states and thus makes into reality the fact that Satan is not his father...and never was. He changes his own existence, and with it, the fate of the world.
He has done it. Adam has won. Armageddon is now Armageddidn't.
With the world saved, for now, the angel and the demon board a bus back to London. They discuss the prophecy piece from Anathema's book and, deciding on what they think it may mean, they alter their appearances before the next day. Through their powers, they assume each other's identities and forms.
Overnight, Adam uses his powers to restore the world to what it was before the Apocalypse started underway. The Bentley and the bookstore return, unburned and unbroken. Life resumes.
The pair meet again in the park, disguised as each other and prepared for an attack from their respective sides. When Aziraphale-as-Crowley isn't looking, Heaven kidnaps Crowley-as-Aziraphale and drags him off. Chasing after them, Hell's minions knock Aziraphale out and haul him off for trial, believing him to be Crowley.
Both are sentenced to death: by mock trial in Hell, and by decision of the angels in Heaven. The conspiring enemy sides even bring the execution tools: Hell supplies Hellfire to destroy "Aziraphale" in Heaven. And Heaven provides Holy Water to destroy "Crowley" in Hell.
Archangel Michael draws a Holy Water bath for Aziraphale-as-Crowley in front of a crowd of demons. Playing it off, Aziraphale strips Crowley's jacket and slacks off--would hate to ruin them, after all--and steps into the bath in his underwear and socks.
To the sheer amazement and fright of the gathered crowd, the water does not melt and sear his skin as it should; "Crowley" takes a leisurely lay in the tub, splashing water to the floor and window (where it sizzles and spits) with a cool and casual ease. They fear him, fear what he's become (whatever that might be). He's no longer one of them, but then even the real Crowley never really was. He wasn't evil. He didn't want to end the world or torture humanity.
Aziraphale-as-Crowley takes pleasure in asking for a rubber duck and requesting Michael to miracle him a towel. And then, since he is already commanding their attention, he politely but firmly suggests that Heaven and Hell leave him and his counterpart alone.
Terrified, they agree.
Later, after the whole attempted execution ordeal is over, Crowley and Aziraphale switch back in the park, exchanging forms and settling back into themselves, recounting and rejoicing over their trick. Aziraphale hopes that this means it is over, but Crowley, ever the more imaginative of the two and far better at predicting the nature of things, believes that this is merely a precursor for a much bigger battle: Humanity vs Heaven and Hell. All of us, he says, versus all of them. Us being the humanity and the two? Most likely. Well, then. That was an unfortunate future to look forward to. But for now, at least, they appear to be in the clear.
So they do what they always do. Crowley asks and Aziraphale, with a tickled smile and a little wiggle, joyfully allows himself to be tempted to lunch at the Ritz, where a table for two has "miraculously" become free.
The two walk off to enjoy their lunch together, relishing in their friendship. They fondly agree that Crowley is at least a little bit of a good person and Aziraphale is at least a little bit of a bastard. It's why they work well together; it's why this worked. And why they're friends.
"To the world," they toast.
There were angels dining at the Ritz
And a nightingale sang in Berkeley square
Does your character have any close ties to existing canon characters? (Canon OCs and AUs only.) (N/A)
Why do you think your character would work in this setting?
Please pardon the long justification. [1]
He will arrive unwillingly.
Plus, he is a principality. His job has been, for literally millenia, to protect and guide humans. He likes people. He finds them incredibly clever (and dangerous), and he is likely to stick it out on the chance to see what these people do...and to see if Crowley does come around to join him.
Experience has taught Aziraphale that if he's around a place a while, Crowley tends to be miraculously "in the area." And if he gets into trouble, again, experience has shown him that it's very likely Crowley will make a deus ex machina appearance just for him.
So what has he got to lose?
He just has to ...come to that conclusion.
How do you plan to expand their CR?
I wouldn't call Aziraphale a social butterfly. He is "friendly" enough and nice enough, given that people aren't here to buy his books. But he is curious and interested in learning things that the people around him are doing. Behind the times he may be, there things humans do that are nifty and fascinating (dancing, magic tricks, etc) that could be his "in" to making social connections. He joined a gentleman's club just to learn the gavotte, after all.
Also, if he does take the position as a clergyman (see below), that puts him in a prime position to be a well-meaning busybody, or provide advice (however naive), or otherwise be an angelic, uplifting presence.
What will your character do for work?
The Angel just cut his ties with Heaven and has gone free-agent, but I'm thinking he could be clergy at the Worship Center and Cemetery. Because that would be semi-familiar ground for him and yet a terrible decision.
Inventory:
Clothing (including top, waistcoat, coat, trousers, any undergarments, socks, shoes, and bowtie in his own personal tartan). / Gold ring worn on his pinkie. Matching cufflinks. / Spectacles.
Samples:
Third-Person Sample:
Finishing his calls, he fussed unhappily with getting the communication screen to shut off. Why did they use symbols now? What ever happened to labeling things properly with words? It was like learning all over again how to use a telephone or a Personal Computer (he had learned, contrary to whatever Crowley might tell you--it wasn't his fault that the computers advanced at such a rate that the one he bought ages ago to do his taxes on was considered about as ancient as the Angel himself).
There was a lot, lately, that he was forced to relearn in a new context... this world and the Armageddon-that-wasn't had seen to that. Aziraphale had not been pleased to be lurched out of his after-lunch digestif and transplanted from the warm glow of the restaurant into a place that, by its very nature, seemed to suggest he was about to have to do a lot more making-do than he was inclined to.
The Angel had grown accustomed to his luxuries, after all.
But he was here now, and was more than able to make do in damp and dreary places (or rough and rugged, as the case may be) with an unfavorable assignment. He just...worried for Crowley--
His thoughts were interrupted by a young woman holding a tray of cupcakes.
"Oh, yes. Over there on the table to the left, if you don't mind."
Aziraphale had no idea how to run a church, or place of worship or whatever this may be called. Certainly he had been in a great many, from simple medieval monasteries, to small parishes in the countryside, to the grandiose cathedrals. But none of that had prepared him for the actual workings of one or dealing with a congregation.
Especially when said congregation didn't quite, well… exist. What was the point of being a member of the clergy if people didn't know he was here to help them?
So...what better way to tempt people to visit, look around, and decide they were amenable to the message...than with baked goods?
Food was the original temptation, and it had always worked on Aziraphale.
First-Person Sample:
journal entry
Despite myself, I suppose I have begun to finally settle in. Thousands of homes across thousands of different times and places, yet I have never grown accustomed to all this uprooting and relocating. Far too messy for my tastes; I have done my tour of duty. It's time I had a chance to put down roots.
I miss my bookshop. I miss Albert Hall. I miss new little restaurants popping up all over, and old little restaurants where they know us. I miss St. James' Park and the little ducks.I miss y I hate that you were so right in that regard.
The congregation has been very kind and I've been warmly received. Honestly well-received, I do believe. We had a bake-sale yesterday to entice people in. Oh, my dear, you know the power of food, so I don't have to tell you it worked, but I do think it worked better than even I anticipated. Had it been an assignment, I believe I should be worthy of a commendation--if Heaven had any appreciation for such methods.
At the very least, it was another excuse for us all to mingle and commune.
You would like them: people from all times and places and walks-of-life, from various religions and non-religions, pieced together to become a community. They would suit you, I think. A clever lot--and adventurous, like those first civilizations, forging and foraging on the edge of a map beyond which lay dragons. I like them. I've grown to like them.
But I do sorely miss the ducks at St. James'.
-- Your friend, always.
Characters Played Here: (None)
Character: Aziraphale
Series/Canon: Good Omens (TV)
From When? The End - A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square
Previous Game(s): (None)
World Description: (Original Characters Only) (N/A)
History:
wiki for a more condensed/cut-and-dry version or you can put up with my sidenotes and such below
In the beginning… The Principality Aziraphale thought he was doing the Good Thing by giving Adam (the first man, not the Antichrist) the Flaming Sword, but the Angel of the Eastern Gate of Eden...may have done the Bad Thing.
And when one's sole identity is as an embodiment of Good and Righteousness as an angel of God, it can be very trying to the soul to realize that one is not, in fact, always such. Especially for one as prone to worrying and fussing as Aziraphale.
Here on the wall of Eden, watching the newly banished humans make their way out of the Garden and into the harsh desert, Aziraphale meets the Enemy, a snake-demon named Crawly. They strike up a conversation and that wily old serpent—He who tempted Eve with the apple—suggests perhaps they both got it wrong: perhaps he, the demon, did good, tempting Eve, and the angel did bad, arming Adam and giving away the sword.
Oh dear. Perhaps he is right.
After all, God's plan is ineffable.
Word of the Day calendar page for 21st of October, 4004 BC [1]
in·ef·fa·ble /inˈefəb(ə)l/ - adjective - too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words.
[1] Or it would have been, had such style of calendars yet been invented. Had calendars at all been invented yet.
The unlikely pair will be seeing a lot of each other over the millennia: Crawly has been put on earth to tempt human souls towards evil—to gain numbers for Hell. Aziraphale is here to thwart him and make sure humanity tends toward goodness and Heaven. Miracles and temptations are their trade, their business, their bread and butter. This is their job, as it were, rival attachés to Earth, to humanity. But they are immortal, occult, and ethereal; aside from guiding and tempting, there should be no reason for them to grow attached to the mortal souls they are tasked with securing.
Or each other, for that matter.
(A thought: Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch, the novel upon which this television series is based, is a product of the late1980s/early1990s AD...so if the situation—wherein opposing agents find themselves more inclined towards each other and their assigned locale than the Home Office—sounds at all like an end of the Cold War-era spy novel, you are probably not wrong. But it is not a spy novel. This is indeed very much a Cold War, a waiting game until the Last War, where it will all be decided, but there are only a few cloaks and there are no daggers.
There is, however, a flaming sword. That sword that Aziraphale gave away has not disappeared from this plot.)
Crawly and Aziraphale meet again over the years, at the Ark, at the Crucifixion, and each time Crawly—who changes his name to Crowley—draws doubt on God’s actions with logical, sometimes sympathetic arguments. Each time he chips away, opening uncomfortable questions Aziraphale does not (cannot, for to question is to Fall) and will not allow himself to fully ask.
Above all Crowley asks WHY?
Why do humans suffer? Why is knowledge bad? Why is choice wrong?
Aziraphale falls back on the safety-net of belief, that God’s plan is ineffable, impossible to know or comprehend, impossible to convey…and who is he to second guess the Plan? Who is anyone to do so? It is dangerous to question God. That is why Crowley is no longer an angel—he questioned God. Aziraphale knows he should not associate with a demon. Heaven would not like it. GOD would not like it.
And yet...
He tries, and fails, of his own doing, to maintain distance between himself and Crowley. After all, their experiences through time are shared; no one else, least of all the humans around them or the angels and demons residing Upstairs or Downstairs, can quite relate to the particular circumstances they find themselves in. By the years following Christ’s crucifixion, Crowley has become a familiar welcome face. Aziraphale greets him almost like a friend.
Neither manage to remain apart entirely from what humanity has to offer, either. They eat, though they do not need to. Crowley sleeps, though that too is unnecessary. They are fascinated by and occasional patrons to the arts. (Much later, Aziraphale will be the only angel ever to learn to dance.) Indulgences. Vices. Fondnesses.
They learn, they experience, they are influenced and changed by the world they are trying to influence. The two live on Earth and witness first-hand, in the trenches as it were, the trials and tribulations of humanity. They see the cruelty and wars, the prejudices, the crimes and senselessness. The invention. The wonder. The spectacle. Humanity, over the millennia, will manufacture its own terrible choices, worse yet than any that trickster Crowley EVER creates...and compassion better than anything Aziraphale might conjure in them.
Humanity has free-will to decide between Good and Evil for itself and that is inspiring. To two beings with designated roles to play and orders to obey, the ability to choose your path is something to be cherished and admired. Their assignments are sometimes awful, or the places sometimes damp, but they do come to love the world and the people.
Around 1020 AD the pair come to an Arrangement, an agreement to spare them both the trouble of travel and fuss: they will help cover each other’s respective Heavenly\Hellish assignments and share the load. One of them can provide both a miracle and a temptation, save the other one a trip; vice versa.
It works. Their home offices fail to notice or care, so long as the work gets done. The angel and the demon cancel each other out. Stability is maintained. Humanity carries on, creating their own good and evil independent of the angel and demon, that Crowley sometimes conveniently takes credit for. It gives Aziraphale and Crowley more time for their personal hobbies, and perhaps more excuses to run into each other.
They meet under the pretense of work. They meet in parks and theaters and restaurants, places where they can hopefully avoid detection (but places they mutually enjoy). They occasionally dine out together. They make allowances for each other’s whims. They fraternize far more than is healthy for a friends-close-but-enemies-closer relationship. Crowley, for his own part, is particularly indulging of Aziraphale—maybe to earn his favor for nefarious means? To make him more willing to keep up the dangerous arrangement?
I mean surely he would not help Shakespeare’s tragic play succeed just because the angel wants it to.
Surely not. After all, that’s almost kind. Demons are not kind and the two are definitely NOT friends.
(They were friends. Oh my god, they were friends. Or they would be, in a manner of speaking...given time enough. Not that they would or could say as much. Their respective groups would destroy them if the angel and demon were found to be so compromised. It was best not to think about it. Best not to put words to it. Best not to name and so make real.
And yet Crowley is kind, though to say so will cause him upset. It wouldn’t do for anyone to think him kind, or nice, or ...Hell forbid, good. But certainly he isn't wholly bad; in the words of Jessica Rabbit: he's just drawn that way.
Crowley even saves Aziraphale from discorporation [2]; Aziraphale foolishly hops the Channel for crepes during the French Revolution and is quite nearly beheaded. For a demon who proposed an Arrangement to cut back on the workload and travel, he certainly gets around when it comes to Aziraphale, even if it could be with the motive of securing his continued presence and cooperation.)[2] in·cor·po·re·al /ˌinkôrˈpôrēəl/ - adjective - without a physical body, presence or form.
dis·cor·po·rate /ˌdiskôrˈpôrāt/ - intransitive - to leave one's physical body, such as through metaphysical or drug-induced means.
Nasty thing, that. Lots of paperwork and they’d both grown rather attached to their respective bodies. Crowley was doing him a favor, really. Saving him embarrassment of going through all that, of explaining such a foolish mistake to the Head Office.
Eventually, Aziraphale opens a bookstore [3] in what is currently known as SoHo. Crowley also takes up residence in London.
[3] A “bookstore” that is more literally “a storage of books.” He favors misprinted Bibles, books of prophecy...such heretical choices! But he doesn’t want to sell them. In fact, he does what he can to deter customers from purchasing one of his carefully accumulated tomes.
Perhaps fearing that his luck will run out and this friendship will put himself in danger, Crowley finally asks Aziraphale for “insurance.” Holy water. A bit of the water would kill a demon like Crowley. Kill him entirely, not merely discorporate him. There would be no coming back.
Does he mean it as a suicide pill?
Fearing that’s the case, Aziraphale refuses. He won’t let Crowley destroy himself. He calls their relationship "fraternization." Crowley takes offense. They argue and have a falling out.
The angel spends most of a century without the demon. He learns to dance at gentlemen-only clubs.
Then, WWII. Duped into aiding a fake British Intelligence Officer, Aziraphale finds himself at the end of a Nazi’s gun, facing discorporation again. Crowley comes to his rescue as before, burning his own feet over the consecrated ground of the church, rerouting a falling bomb onto the building to kill the Nazis, and miraculously rescuing Aziraphale’s books. He leaves saving the two of them in Aziraphale’s hands, putting faith in the angel to make sure they BOTH survive.
Oh, but how could he not save Crowley? How ever could he not?
Aziraphale eventually gives him a thermos of Holy Water, though it takes him almost another 30 years to do so. Crowley does go so much faster than him.
Somewhere in the modern era, circa 2007 or so, Crowley’s assignment delivers the Antichrist to a satanic nunnery outside Tadfield, initializing Armageddon. Due to a perfectly human and normal cock-up, the baby ends up in the arms of two ordinary humans, the Youngs. He is named Adam (the Antichrist, not the first man).
In a cliched twist everyone saw coming, the Antichrist was supposed to go home with an American ambassador and his wife. Instead they receive the child who was originally the Youngs’. He is then named Warlock.
Crowley, defying Hell, tells Aziraphale about the boy he believes to be the Antichrist: Warlock. Though Aziraphale is initially reluctant to join him, together they hatch a plan to keep the world they have come to enjoy and spare humanity from the coming war.
They will stop Armageddon by never letting it begin. If they can raise the boy to be neither good nor evil, the war doesn’t have to happen, the seas don’t have to boil, and Aziraphale doesn’t have to spend eternity listening to the Sound of Music. (God does so love that musical…)
But war, Heaven tells Aziraphale, is not meant to be prevented. It is meant to be won. Despite trying to toe the party line, he joins Crowley in trying to help teach the child.
By the time Warlock is 11, he shows no sign of powers and the scheduled hellhound fails to arrive. The angel and demon realize they have the WRONG BOY.
So then...where is the Antichrist?
They revisit Tadfield, only to find the nunnery has been converted into a paintball zone for business leadership workshops. The woman in charge, a former member of the nunnery, does not recall the needed details, so the angel and demon decide to return to London.
On the way back, they run into a young woman on a bicycle. Or she runs into them. Semantics. The Bentley and the bike collide. They drive her home after the accident, and she accidentally leaves her book in Crowley's car.
The book, as it turns out, is the sole remaining copy of The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch and the girl is Agnes Nutter's descendant Anathema.
Prophecy 3008 - When that the angel readeth these words of mine, in his shoppe of other menne's books, then the final days are certes upon us. Open thine eyes to understand. Open thine eyes and rede, I do say, foolish principalitee, for thy cocoa doth grow cold.
Aziraphale finds the book, realizes what it is, and does not tell Crowley, despite their plans to work together. His own investigation through Agnes’s prophecies turns up an address in Tadfield. When he rings the number, 666, Adam Young’s father—his earthly father, not his true Satanic one—answers the phone.
Oh dear. Right number!
Instead of telling Crowley he has located the boy, Aziraphale tries Heaven again, only to be repeatedly dismissed and reminded that the War has to happen. Unfortunately, this charade also draws the attention of the Archangel Michael, who, suspicious of Aziraphale, discovers that he and Crowley have a long history of working together and she contacts Hell.
Back on Earth, Aziraphale enlists a human agent of his, Witchfinder Shadwell, to locate and follow Adam Young, and he unknowingly sets into motion some of Agnes Nutter's prophecies.
But as far as Crowley knows, he and Aziraphale have no leads on the whereabouts of the child who will become the Antichrist. So, when he asks Aziraphale to meet him at the bandstand in the park to talk, he is desperate. Armageddon is practically on their heels. Crowley tries to convince him that they are their own side, independent of Heaven or Hell, and suggests that they could run off together, anywhere in the universe. He has a fast car and a plan to get them out of here. They could leave behind this world they had come to consider their home, this world their respective groups were about to destroy and fight over, and leave for the stars...just the two of them.
I don't even LIKE you! he claims in reply. You do! Crowley argues. It feels like one of their regular old petty disagreements, one where Aziraphale says no for the sake of saying no, because he's worries about these things, and Crowley leads him into the temptation he was always going to agree to anyway.
But this time, Aziraphale, always one for the rules, for going through the correct channels, for trying to do right by everyone, rejects him.
Not entirely deterred, because this is how they operate, Crowley asks again at the curb outside the bookshop. Run away with me, Angel. Again, Aziraphale says no, for certain this time, and an angry and hurt Crowley threatens to leave to the stars without him, to not even THINK about him—and drives off to sulk.
After some of the angels, including Michael, confront Aziraphale on the street and threaten him, Aziraphale decides to seek a higher authority: God. His call is intercepted by Metatron, who functions as the voice of God. Metatron, like the angels, tells Aziraphale that the war is meant to happen; that it will begin with a nuclear war.
Human weapons manipulated by Heaven and Hell…
So finally, forsaken even by God, he calls his only definite ally: Crowley ("I know where the Antichrist is…")—only to be hung up on. Crowley is busy being threatened by another demon—he can't talk right now.
Shadwell, stopping by in the hope of collecting funds, had peeped through the letter-slot and witnessed Aziraphale’s call with Metatron. He breaks in and confronts Aziraphale in his shop, accusing him of being a witch. Shadwell tries to banish him to Hell and instead accidentally backs the angel into the heavenly circle.
Aziraphale steps into the circle and, like the wily coyote realizing there is no cliff-edge beneath him, he has a moment to react—Fuck—before he is discorporated.
Frightened by what he believes to be his own power, Shadwell flees. A candle from the circle falls in his wake and catches the bookshop on fire. It burns. And burns. And burns.
Crowley, having managed to shake the demons threatening him—killing one with Aziraphale’s gifted Holy Water, trapping the other in the phone-line for the time being—rushes to the angel...and finds instead the bookshop ablaze and Aziraphale absent.
He runs into the building shouting for him. Aziraphale is not there. He's not anywhere. He is gone. Crowley assumes the worst. For the first time in a long time, Crowley is genuinely completely alone.
Hellfire would destroy an angel, just like Holy Water destroys demons.
In Heaven, the discorporated Aziraphale rebels against orders to take up his uniform and command his platoon, and instead transports his now-ghostly form back to earth to look for a body he might possess (angels don’t possess people, demons do that, but...there is a first time for everything). On earth, he finds Crowley, drinking and mourning, having believed Aziraphale dead.
“I lost my best friend.”
It might well be the first time either has put into words what they meant to each other. What is the risk now? What could Heaven and Hell do to them that it isn’t already? At the end of the world, does it matter anymore the risks of saying it?
In a stroke of devilish luck (or divine intervention), Crowley has saved Agnes Nutter's book from the fire and, with it, the notes Aziraphale has on Adam Young, the Antichrist. He urges Crowley to get a wiggle on and meet him in Tadfield, then sets off to find a body to borrow. It really is too bad he can’t possess Crowley’s, but you know...angel, demon; they'd probably explode.
Witchfinder Shadwell’s neighbor is a very patient and tolerant woman named Madame Tracy who works both as a medium and a courtesan. Today she is a medium and mid-seance, Aziraphale crashes the party, possessing her body and shooing out her clients.
He explains to her the circumstances surrounding the coming Armageddon, and asks to utilize her body to go to Tadfield Airbase to fix things. She agrees, despite an intervening Shadwell still trying to accuse Aziraphale of being a witch, and together the three of them take her (miracled-to-fly) scooter to Tadfield. There is little time left.
Prophecy 2213 - Four shalle ryde and three sharl ryde the Skye as two, and Wonne shal ryde in flames; and theyr shall be nostopping themme: not fish, nor rayne, neither Deville or Angel. And ye shalle be theyr also, Anathema.
Crowley arrives with his Bentley on fire (a rather long story, but the M25 had a bit of an issue that was Past-Crowley's fault and Present-Crowley's problem). Adam Young and his three friends and the hellhound Dog, having excised the Antichrist's internal demons with the power of love and friendship, cycle into the airfield to confront the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The Four—War, Pollution, Famine, and Death—have gathered here to initiate the nuclear war that will precipitate into the Armageddon. Anathema and Shadwell’s new recruit Newton have also shown up to serve their long prophesied role in stopping Armageddon. Everything is coming together.
Confronted with the Antichrist and little other planned, Aziraphale takes Shadwell's Witchfinder weapon to attempt to execute the child-Antichrist and prevent the war. It is a very angelic solution to a very demonic problem, and as he struggles with indecision—
Madame Tracy wrests control of her own body and spares the boy.
Adam has no idea who they are—this demon and this Witchfinder and this woman possessed by an angel—but he takes one look at Tracy and Aziraphale and decides that the Right thing would be to properly separate them, renewing Aziraphale's body. His powers currently bend reality to his will, and Adam will require that as they face down the Horsemen.
The Horsemen are all armed with their respective powerful items, and War's is a familiar flaming sword. By arming Adam (the first man, not the Antichrist) all those years ago, by enabling him to protect himself and Eve against the harsh world, Aziraphale also introduced to humanity a weapon of War.
But now the children face the Horseman and wield the flaming sword against them. With words and ideas (a belief in peace, in a clean world, in enough food), they defeat these embodied fears. Death cannot be destroyed, and he will return, but for now, they have a brief reprieve.
Crowley returns the Nice and Accurate book to Anathema, tossing it through the air to her across the tarmac. A piece of burnt paper tumbles out of it, fluttering down into Aziraphale's hands. It is a prophecy:
Prophecy 5004 - When alle is fayed and all is done, ye must choofe your faces wisely, for soon enouff ye will be playing with fyre.
Beelzebub and Gabriel arrive to fix what their agents have mucked up. Both try, as adults talking down to a child, to negotiate with Adam and force him to restart the Apocalypse. After all, it is Written. Revelations describes this Final War that has to happen. There are roles to be played, plans to fulfill, grudges to settle. These two great superpowers must decide once and for all who has the bigger gun.
That's when Aziraphale steps in. If God's plan is truly "ineffable" as believed, then really none of them can know what God actually wants. Crowley backs him up smugly, yet both know they are well and truly fucked when Gabriel and Beelzebub depart to return to Heaven and Hell.
Adam's father, Satan, will hear about this. And he will be pissed. They have no time. They have no plan. What will they do?
Aziraphale picks up his flaming sword and gives a panicked glare down at Crowley. Help, his expression says. What do we do? If the war begins, they will be divided, if they are not outright punished. They will never see each other again. That is, they know now, a fate they cannot stand.
He begs/threatens Crowley to do something, lest he never talk to him again and without hesitation, Crowley snaps and time ...stops.
In this kind of alternate space, Aziraphale and Crowley are alone with Adam. Crowley has bought them time to explain to the boy what is happening, that his powers bend reality, and that he will have to do something and do it soon if he hopes to save the world. They are proud of Adam. Aziraphale had feared he would be Evil Incarnate, hoped he would be Good Incarnate, but instead...without Angelic or Demonic intervention, Adam is perfect. He is Human Incarnate. A knowledge of what good and evil are and the Free Will and ability to choose his own path.
And so do something Adam does. When Satan tears through the Earth to confront them, Adam denies him. He states and thus makes into reality the fact that Satan is not his father...and never was. He changes his own existence, and with it, the fate of the world.
He has done it. Adam has won. Armageddon is now Armageddidn't.
With the world saved, for now, the angel and the demon board a bus back to London. They discuss the prophecy piece from Anathema's book and, deciding on what they think it may mean, they alter their appearances before the next day. Through their powers, they assume each other's identities and forms.
Overnight, Adam uses his powers to restore the world to what it was before the Apocalypse started underway. The Bentley and the bookstore return, unburned and unbroken. Life resumes.
The pair meet again in the park, disguised as each other and prepared for an attack from their respective sides. When Aziraphale-as-Crowley isn't looking, Heaven kidnaps Crowley-as-Aziraphale and drags him off. Chasing after them, Hell's minions knock Aziraphale out and haul him off for trial, believing him to be Crowley.
Both are sentenced to death: by mock trial in Hell, and by decision of the angels in Heaven. The conspiring enemy sides even bring the execution tools: Hell supplies Hellfire to destroy "Aziraphale" in Heaven. And Heaven provides Holy Water to destroy "Crowley" in Hell.
Archangel Michael draws a Holy Water bath for Aziraphale-as-Crowley in front of a crowd of demons. Playing it off, Aziraphale strips Crowley's jacket and slacks off--would hate to ruin them, after all--and steps into the bath in his underwear and socks.
To the sheer amazement and fright of the gathered crowd, the water does not melt and sear his skin as it should; "Crowley" takes a leisurely lay in the tub, splashing water to the floor and window (where it sizzles and spits) with a cool and casual ease. They fear him, fear what he's become (whatever that might be). He's no longer one of them, but then even the real Crowley never really was. He wasn't evil. He didn't want to end the world or torture humanity.
Aziraphale-as-Crowley takes pleasure in asking for a rubber duck and requesting Michael to miracle him a towel. And then, since he is already commanding their attention, he politely but firmly suggests that Heaven and Hell leave him and his counterpart alone.
Terrified, they agree.
Later, after the whole attempted execution ordeal is over, Crowley and Aziraphale switch back in the park, exchanging forms and settling back into themselves, recounting and rejoicing over their trick. Aziraphale hopes that this means it is over, but Crowley, ever the more imaginative of the two and far better at predicting the nature of things, believes that this is merely a precursor for a much bigger battle: Humanity vs Heaven and Hell. All of us, he says, versus all of them. Us being the humanity and the two? Most likely. Well, then. That was an unfortunate future to look forward to. But for now, at least, they appear to be in the clear.
So they do what they always do. Crowley asks and Aziraphale, with a tickled smile and a little wiggle, joyfully allows himself to be tempted to lunch at the Ritz, where a table for two has "miraculously" become free.
The two walk off to enjoy their lunch together, relishing in their friendship. They fondly agree that Crowley is at least a little bit of a good person and Aziraphale is at least a little bit of a bastard. It's why they work well together; it's why this worked. And why they're friends.
"To the world," they toast.
There were angels dining at the Ritz
And a nightingale sang in Berkeley square
Does your character have any close ties to existing canon characters? (Canon OCs and AUs only.) (N/A)
Why do you think your character would work in this setting?
Please pardon the long justification. [1]
He will arrive unwillingly.
[1] Crowley and Aziraphale are very entwined characters. From the start, they dance in and out of each others lives and there's very little they do in the course of the plot that is not somehow with the other in mind. In saying that, tempting Aziraphale to stay becomes infinitely easier IF Crowley does appear ingame. As long as Earth is in no danger (and it presumably won't be, with time stopped and Armageddidn't over for now), why go home when the most important thing from Earth is with him?
Without Crowley, part of Aziraphale will always yearn to return to Earth, and in a way that's a nice conflict in itself (if ooc needs must).
((And when I reserved and TDM'd, I was prepared to go it alone without Crowley. Still am, though I would definitely prefer to have him (just...you know, gently nudging Crowley from the TDM)))
Because despite the world's difficulties, this world has a luxury that Earth cannot provide: absolutely no surveillance from either Heaven or Hell; the complete freedom to exist independent of those influences. A very sweet deal.
And he has to consider the possibility that Crowley could show up if he sticks it out. There's no penalty for staying, either, because time won't continue without him--he can go home to whenever he wants, including the instant he left. (And time magic does canonically work against Hellish entities and, presumably, Heaven. Not to get into Big Questions, but is God inhibited by it? Will the Ineffable Plan march on without him? Who knows! Who cares! But it could work) So...he could stay in this world where time "stops" back home, knowing that after six months he could go home or he could wait and see if maybe Crowley will come here and they could have a much deserved holiday.
Plus, he is a principality. His job has been, for literally millenia, to protect and guide humans. He likes people. He finds them incredibly clever (and dangerous), and he is likely to stick it out on the chance to see what these people do...and to see if Crowley does come around to join him.
Experience has taught Aziraphale that if he's around a place a while, Crowley tends to be miraculously "in the area." And if he gets into trouble, again, experience has shown him that it's very likely Crowley will make a deus ex machina appearance just for him.
So what has he got to lose?
He just has to ...come to that conclusion.
How do you plan to expand their CR?
I wouldn't call Aziraphale a social butterfly. He is "friendly" enough and nice enough, given that people aren't here to buy his books. But he is curious and interested in learning things that the people around him are doing. Behind the times he may be, there things humans do that are nifty and fascinating (dancing, magic tricks, etc) that could be his "in" to making social connections. He joined a gentleman's club just to learn the gavotte, after all.
Also, if he does take the position as a clergyman (see below), that puts him in a prime position to be a well-meaning busybody, or provide advice (however naive), or otherwise be an angelic, uplifting presence.
What will your character do for work?
The Angel just cut his ties with Heaven and has gone free-agent, but I'm thinking he could be clergy at the Worship Center and Cemetery. Because that would be semi-familiar ground for him and yet a terrible decision.
Inventory:
Clothing (including top, waistcoat, coat, trousers, any undergarments, socks, shoes, and bowtie in his own personal tartan). / Gold ring worn on his pinkie. Matching cufflinks. / Spectacles.
Samples:
Third-Person Sample:
Finishing his calls, he fussed unhappily with getting the communication screen to shut off. Why did they use symbols now? What ever happened to labeling things properly with words? It was like learning all over again how to use a telephone or a Personal Computer (he had learned, contrary to whatever Crowley might tell you--it wasn't his fault that the computers advanced at such a rate that the one he bought ages ago to do his taxes on was considered about as ancient as the Angel himself).
There was a lot, lately, that he was forced to relearn in a new context... this world and the Armageddon-that-wasn't had seen to that. Aziraphale had not been pleased to be lurched out of his after-lunch digestif and transplanted from the warm glow of the restaurant into a place that, by its very nature, seemed to suggest he was about to have to do a lot more making-do than he was inclined to.
The Angel had grown accustomed to his luxuries, after all.
But he was here now, and was more than able to make do in damp and dreary places (or rough and rugged, as the case may be) with an unfavorable assignment. He just...worried for Crowley--
His thoughts were interrupted by a young woman holding a tray of cupcakes.
"Oh, yes. Over there on the table to the left, if you don't mind."
Aziraphale had no idea how to run a church, or place of worship or whatever this may be called. Certainly he had been in a great many, from simple medieval monasteries, to small parishes in the countryside, to the grandiose cathedrals. But none of that had prepared him for the actual workings of one or dealing with a congregation.
Especially when said congregation didn't quite, well… exist. What was the point of being a member of the clergy if people didn't know he was here to help them?
So...what better way to tempt people to visit, look around, and decide they were amenable to the message...than with baked goods?
Food was the original temptation, and it had always worked on Aziraphale.
First-Person Sample:
journal entry
Despite myself, I suppose I have begun to finally settle in. Thousands of homes across thousands of different times and places, yet I have never grown accustomed to all this uprooting and relocating. Far too messy for my tastes; I have done my tour of duty. It's time I had a chance to put down roots.
I miss my bookshop. I miss Albert Hall. I miss new little restaurants popping up all over, and old little restaurants where they know us. I miss St. James' Park and the little ducks.
The congregation has been very kind and I've been warmly received. Honestly well-received, I do believe. We had a bake-sale yesterday to entice people in. Oh, my dear, you know the power of food, so I don't have to tell you it worked, but I do think it worked better than even I anticipated. Had it been an assignment, I believe I should be worthy of a commendation--if Heaven had any appreciation for such methods.
At the very least, it was another excuse for us all to mingle and commune.
You would like them: people from all times and places and walks-of-life, from various religions and non-religions, pieced together to become a community. They would suit you, I think. A clever lot--and adventurous, like those first civilizations, forging and foraging on the edge of a map beyond which lay dragons. I like them. I've grown to like them.
But I do sorely miss the ducks at St. James'.
-- Your friend, always.