Christmas Morning - Azi's Gift to All
mood: joyful
On Christmas morning (or he thought it was Christmas day; there was no foolproof way to be sure,) Aziraphale rose early. First he took care of the household matters--a long, slender box with Crowley's name on it beneath the tree, and two stockings by the fireplace, one black and one red and green tartan.
Then he went out to the balcony of Club 33 one more time with Cayce's census list in hand, ready to spring his Christmas surprise.
He stood there for some time, quietly gathering power and organizing his thoughts. This was going to be one of the hardest miracles he'd ever attempted; even angels had their limits, and his were about to be tested in a big way. He couldn't have done it all at once; this would be merely the last step in the process.
He started close to the club, in the vicinity of New Orleans Square, and slowly began to extend his awareness out across the park, willing the things he'd stowed in an empty building down the street to vanish and rematerialize, each in its proper place on a doorstep or window sill--someplace where it would be seen at once.
The task of summoning the packages out of the ether throughout the prior week or so had been made all the more challenging by the fact that he had no idea what most of them contained. He'd set a few parameters when he began:
Each was something the intended recipient would want, or need, or like;
Each would be a reminder of home or friends or family, or a cherished memory, or something held dear;
Each would be harmless to both the recipient and those around them;
And, for the benefit of those whose suspicion might overcome their curiosity, each was temporarily indestructible (unless its function was to be destroyed, i.e., food.)
There was a gift for every single person in the park, from T-Rex down to the last Nac Mac Feegle, each wrapped or decorated according to whatever tradition was most familiar; and each was addressed to that person by name and signed from the appropriate holiday personage, whether it be Santa Claus, Father Christmas, the Hogfather, or simply, A friend. No one was left out, not even Mickey Mouse or the Cheshire Cat.
It was a terrible drain on his resources, and by the time he was finished nearly half an hour later, the angel felt woozy and light-headed, and ready to go back to bed.
Instead he stood gripping the railing for a moment, looked down at the street in front of the club, and smiled like a sunrise at what he saw. Then he turned and stumbled back inside to his armchair to wait for Crowley to wake up.
((Everybody feel free to make up your own gift or totally ignore the whole thing XD))
On Christmas morning (or he thought it was Christmas day; there was no foolproof way to be sure,) Aziraphale rose early. First he took care of the household matters--a long, slender box with Crowley's name on it beneath the tree, and two stockings by the fireplace, one black and one red and green tartan.
Then he went out to the balcony of Club 33 one more time with Cayce's census list in hand, ready to spring his Christmas surprise.
He stood there for some time, quietly gathering power and organizing his thoughts. This was going to be one of the hardest miracles he'd ever attempted; even angels had their limits, and his were about to be tested in a big way. He couldn't have done it all at once; this would be merely the last step in the process.
He started close to the club, in the vicinity of New Orleans Square, and slowly began to extend his awareness out across the park, willing the things he'd stowed in an empty building down the street to vanish and rematerialize, each in its proper place on a doorstep or window sill--someplace where it would be seen at once.
The task of summoning the packages out of the ether throughout the prior week or so had been made all the more challenging by the fact that he had no idea what most of them contained. He'd set a few parameters when he began:
Each was something the intended recipient would want, or need, or like;
Each would be a reminder of home or friends or family, or a cherished memory, or something held dear;
Each would be harmless to both the recipient and those around them;
And, for the benefit of those whose suspicion might overcome their curiosity, each was temporarily indestructible (unless its function was to be destroyed, i.e., food.)
There was a gift for every single person in the park, from T-Rex down to the last Nac Mac Feegle, each wrapped or decorated according to whatever tradition was most familiar; and each was addressed to that person by name and signed from the appropriate holiday personage, whether it be Santa Claus, Father Christmas, the Hogfather, or simply, A friend. No one was left out, not even Mickey Mouse or the Cheshire Cat.
It was a terrible drain on his resources, and by the time he was finished nearly half an hour later, the angel felt woozy and light-headed, and ready to go back to bed.
Instead he stood gripping the railing for a moment, looked down at the street in front of the club, and smiled like a sunrise at what he saw. Then he turned and stumbled back inside to his armchair to wait for Crowley to wake up.
((Everybody feel free to make up your own gift or totally ignore the whole thing XD))