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they'd been in each others circles for six thousand years, spent day, even a week or two in each other company every few centuries. And then there was Warlock.
it was the longest overlap their arrangement ever had, even in crawly mostly stuck to the house and Aziraphale to the gardens.
but it was long enough for their true natures to bleed over in ways they hadn't before.
Crowley was a menace at every turn, being cooped up like he was turning his boredom into outright harassment of the security details, and (in much more subtle ways) the Dowlings' themselves.
Aziraphale still enjoyed his food and books, but some of his more holy tendencies started to peak though, much more than he'd shown to Crowley in the past, and that's when the demon mentally cemented that this had to work, for the angels sake.
Aziraphale did his duty-bound tasks as Crowley expected, but then he did downright heavenly things. Aziraphale... prayed, for lake of a better term. it wasn't checking in with Gabriel, and he didn't act like he expected a response. but he clasped his hands, bowed his head, and knelt at his bed, much like the humans did nowadays. he confessed all the naughty things he did that heaven didn't approve of - he asked to be forgiven for his material possessions, his books. Greed. He as for forgiveness for the dinner he'd shared with some of the staff that night. Gluttony.
He asked for forgiveness for spending the evening past indulging in a book of poetry and a glass of wine. Sloth. For forgiveness in feeling unheard in his last meeting with Gabriel, the frustration in that his position didn't afford him enough of a voice. wrath. envy. he asked for forgiveness in wanted to spend more or the day with Crowley. Lust.
He asked for forgiveness for not letting the praise of his hard work for to the Almighty or to Gabriel. Pride.
No. no. this wouldn't stand. Crowley seethed in the shadows. heaven had his angel all twisted up, thinking these things as great deadly terrible sins.
it was the longest overlap their arrangement ever had, even in crawly mostly stuck to the house and Aziraphale to the gardens.
but it was long enough for their true natures to bleed over in ways they hadn't before.
Crowley was a menace at every turn, being cooped up like he was turning his boredom into outright harassment of the security details, and (in much more subtle ways) the Dowlings' themselves.
Aziraphale still enjoyed his food and books, but some of his more holy tendencies started to peak though, much more than he'd shown to Crowley in the past, and that's when the demon mentally cemented that this had to work, for the angels sake.
Aziraphale did his duty-bound tasks as Crowley expected, but then he did downright heavenly things. Aziraphale... prayed, for lake of a better term. it wasn't checking in with Gabriel, and he didn't act like he expected a response. but he clasped his hands, bowed his head, and knelt at his bed, much like the humans did nowadays. he confessed all the naughty things he did that heaven didn't approve of - he asked to be forgiven for his material possessions, his books. Greed. He as for forgiveness for the dinner he'd shared with some of the staff that night. Gluttony.
He asked for forgiveness for spending the evening past indulging in a book of poetry and a glass of wine. Sloth. For forgiveness in feeling unheard in his last meeting with Gabriel, the frustration in that his position didn't afford him enough of a voice. wrath. envy. he asked for forgiveness in wanted to spend more or the day with Crowley. Lust.
He asked for forgiveness for not letting the praise of his hard work for to the Almighty or to Gabriel. Pride.
No. no. this wouldn't stand. Crowley seethed in the shadows. heaven had his angel all twisted up, thinking these things as great deadly terrible sins.
