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mekachu04tazirpahle had been to many of crolwey's homes over he last six millenia, but after the bookshop, more and more often, they spent there time there, and less in crowlye's various abodes.
And he still had many, scattered across the world. Azirpahle did too, actually, but he'd mostly forgotten about them, ownership returning to mother earth, or osme wiley human who fabricated the nessissary paperwork to claim rights tot he land. but corlwey kept all his upto date, and tidy. and he moved often. none the less, he'd had his mayfeld flat for some tie now, and yet the first time azirpahle stepped foot in it wqas the night the world didn't end, but their's sill might.
azirpahle was stumming with energy, newly coperated and a new puzzle in his hands. crolwey however, was absolutle exhauseted. even if it hadn't been a triing day of mircles - which it most difniatly was - he'd had quite the emotional rollercoster that day, and mentally, he was barely on his feet.
it didn't take much for azirpahle to coax him into dozing off once they where no longer upright; it was also lucky htat crowely was the pacer, not azirpale, when deep in thought, becuase the angel found himself quite trapped in place y sprawing limbs, and he really didn't want to move.
while corwley dozed away the late night hous, riaphle sat still, calm, twisting the words of the tiny burnt paper pover nad ver in his mind. but the time the wee morning hours rolled around, he was fairly sure he had it, but still wanted to talk it over with crolwey to be sure.
satisfied the puzzle was solved, he started to ponder the bark bedroom the two had ended the night in. unlike zapirplaes homes over hte centuries - with his hoard, as he'd been teased - croawly's home remain failry sparse, but extravigant no less. in lighter colours, it might be reminisant of the poeness of heaven, but it lacked the coldness that came with it. it wasn't dreary, the war dark colours sometimes could be, but simple and modern. and it was not anywhere as impersonal as heaven. while there might not be many things aborning the walls, for example, the pieces of art work corlwey did have on display where thought provoking nad beatuiful. each on was a work of croaftmansship, technically sound, yet also deeply personal in a way crolwey would be loathed for anyone to call him out on.
as the sun started to warmt he horizenes, azriaphle did finally slip free of his leggy compaining - fo a snake, he slept more like an octopus - to make himself some tea, and he studied the painting and sketchs on the walls, stopping at last to the piece da vinci had done. he'd known da vinci - and he'd known that corlwey had known the man too - but he hadn't realised how close the two had been. "my deared friend athonio" indeed.
the wondered now about the portrait he had rolled away- gone now in flames. he'd never known where to hang it - his wall space usually was overrun quickly - but he'd been honoured by the sketch none the less. he wondered now if it had been sley the artists idea, of if crolwey had instigated it. he hadn't taken the piece out in some time to marvel at it, but he was faily cetrtian, that the edges of his portain would line up nicely to the once displayed in fornt of him now.
corlay had them as there own side for a long time it seems. what a same the two pieces would never get to be displayed the way leo had clearly ment them to be.
he hear shuffling form corlwey's bedroom, and returned to the kitchen to get hte second cup he'd prepared, mircled to stay jsut the right tempature, but otherwise brewed the human way. as he stepped pat the portait one last ime, cups in hand, azirpahle smiled.
onward. to secure their own side.
And he still had many, scattered across the world. Azirpahle did too, actually, but he'd mostly forgotten about them, ownership returning to mother earth, or osme wiley human who fabricated the nessissary paperwork to claim rights tot he land. but corlwey kept all his upto date, and tidy. and he moved often. none the less, he'd had his mayfeld flat for some tie now, and yet the first time azirpahle stepped foot in it wqas the night the world didn't end, but their's sill might.
azirpahle was stumming with energy, newly coperated and a new puzzle in his hands. crolwey however, was absolutle exhauseted. even if it hadn't been a triing day of mircles - which it most difniatly was - he'd had quite the emotional rollercoster that day, and mentally, he was barely on his feet.
it didn't take much for azirpahle to coax him into dozing off once they where no longer upright; it was also lucky htat crowely was the pacer, not azirpale, when deep in thought, becuase the angel found himself quite trapped in place y sprawing limbs, and he really didn't want to move.
while corwley dozed away the late night hous, riaphle sat still, calm, twisting the words of the tiny burnt paper pover nad ver in his mind. but the time the wee morning hours rolled around, he was fairly sure he had it, but still wanted to talk it over with crolwey to be sure.
satisfied the puzzle was solved, he started to ponder the bark bedroom the two had ended the night in. unlike zapirplaes homes over hte centuries - with his hoard, as he'd been teased - croawly's home remain failry sparse, but extravigant no less. in lighter colours, it might be reminisant of the poeness of heaven, but it lacked the coldness that came with it. it wasn't dreary, the war dark colours sometimes could be, but simple and modern. and it was not anywhere as impersonal as heaven. while there might not be many things aborning the walls, for example, the pieces of art work corlwey did have on display where thought provoking nad beatuiful. each on was a work of croaftmansship, technically sound, yet also deeply personal in a way crolwey would be loathed for anyone to call him out on.
as the sun started to warmt he horizenes, azriaphle did finally slip free of his leggy compaining - fo a snake, he slept more like an octopus - to make himself some tea, and he studied the painting and sketchs on the walls, stopping at last to the piece da vinci had done. he'd known da vinci - and he'd known that corlwey had known the man too - but he hadn't realised how close the two had been. "my deared friend athonio" indeed.
the wondered now about the portrait he had rolled away- gone now in flames. he'd never known where to hang it - his wall space usually was overrun quickly - but he'd been honoured by the sketch none the less. he wondered now if it had been sley the artists idea, of if crolwey had instigated it. he hadn't taken the piece out in some time to marvel at it, but he was faily cetrtian, that the edges of his portain would line up nicely to the once displayed in fornt of him now.
corlay had them as there own side for a long time it seems. what a same the two pieces would never get to be displayed the way leo had clearly ment them to be.
he hear shuffling form corlwey's bedroom, and returned to the kitchen to get hte second cup he'd prepared, mircled to stay jsut the right tempature, but otherwise brewed the human way. as he stepped pat the portait one last ime, cups in hand, azirpahle smiled.
onward. to secure their own side.
