Happy Holidays, meredydd!
Title: None
For: meredydd
from: nimmenstjer
Characters: Crowley and Anathema
Warning: Mild language, confusing background and a rather lame joke.
"Didn't you ever had that? The one moment, everything is clear. Ok, horrible and the world is going to end and you're screwed either way, but clear. As in, you know where you're going, what you want to do, what happened, all of that. And then suddenly, alright, everything went as good as you could possibly hope for, but... you just don't know what to do with your life anymore. I mean, other people had plans and dreams, I just had a vague hope against knowing better."
The woman (who looked rather like that dark-haired girl at the cancelled Apocalypse, really) looked at him with the kind of look that told him that yes, she did happen to know she was being silly, and she would continue being silly and a bit blubbery perhaps and he could listen to her or pretend to do so, at least, or he could tell her she was being silly and rue that he wasn't discorporated at the moment. It was always the nice people with Crowley. They'd be likeable and smile in a way that told him he'd better be likeable back or else there'd be smiting. And, well, he did understand, he really did.
"Well, yeah." he replied. "But I just, you know, let it meander on a bit, do things one at the time or whatever seems to be a good idea, or just let things be. And, well, some of the ideas or hopes I have are just not a good idea for anyone involved, including me, so... uhm... anything specific in your case?"
"Hmm, well, I don't know if I'll still be alive tomorrow. Or in ten years. Or five. Or twenty, thirty, fifty. I don't know. I don't know if I'll have any children or not, if I'm going to get mugged, robbed, what job I'll have, if any... I don't have a goal anymore, in life. Enough to live for, don't get me wrong, and I know I'll find my way eventually, but..." she shrugged helplessly. "Just... no clear goal. I feel like... like a ship cut loose from its ropes."
"So, I'm guessing you expect me to, like, say to toughen up, take life as it comes to you, find some things that interest you, maybe find someone to love and go for it and all that drivel?"
"I guess. I already have someone to love, though."
"That's nice. To just be able to and all. And he or she loves you back too?"
"I suppose he does."
"Lucky bitch." Crowley muttered to his drink before taking a sip.
"Excuse me?" said Anathema. "That wasn't very nice."
Crowley shrugged apologetically. "Yeah, well, you're not the only one with problems, though."
"Point. But I don't think there's a need to be rude about it."
Crowley drained half his glass in one go.
"So... you were one of those men in the car, right? One of the two with the wings who got all pumped up before things, well, changed?"
"Oh. So you were there."
"Well, yes. It's a bit hard to forget, a thing like that, wouldn't you say?" she said. "But then again, it's nearly equally hard to remember."
"And he chides us for messing people about." Crowley grinned.
"And what you mean with that is...?"
"Never mind." Crowley said. He extended a hand. "The name is Crowley. Anthony J. Crowley."
"Anathema Device. If you'd like to know, I'm a witch, a psychic, and my boyfriend and I tried to stop the apocalypse."
"Well, nice to know that. I'm the Serpent of Eden, a fallen angel, and my best friend, who's of the non-fallen sort, and I tried to stop the apocalypse. Apple?"
"Uhm, no, thank you."
Crowley sniggered, and took a bite of the fruit himself.
"You do that joke often?" Anathema asked.
"Oh, no, not at all. Especially not with Jewishly raised people. I don't like figs that much."
"I think it's rather tasteless."
"This apple? Uh-uh, I only get myself tasty apples."
"You know what I mean."
"Hey, demon, remember?"
"Well, yes, but that doesn't mean... I mean, it's no excuse for you to..."
"To what, get you irritated?" Crowley thought about it.
"I guess not then. I'm not really here to do my job, after all."
"And your job is to be annoying?" Anathema said, disbelieving.
"Well, more like to inspire sin. But pissed off people make bad decisions."
"Aha." Anathema drank her tea. "So if I want to have some emotional guidance and all, I need to talk to your boyfriend?"
"He's not my boyfriend. We're friends. Have been for centuries, and very nearly millennia."
"Sure." said Anathema.
"I'm being serious here. Me and the angel are not in a romantic relationship of any kind. I was very clear about that to my superiors. Just friends."
"Well, since you deny it so miserably and vehemently, I suppose I have no other choice than to believe you."
"...there's no need for sarcasm. And anyway, the angel is okay with emotional and spiritual guidance, but you have to find your goals in life yourself. Didn't you want to be some sort of dancer or actress or Amazon or tyrant of a subcontinent when you were a little girl?"
"Not really, no."
"Not an astronaut or mad scientist or scantly clad barbarian heroine either? Race-car driver? Gentlewoman-thief? Doctor? Anything?"
"No. I just wanted to know things."
"You were a weird kid. Normal children dream of teeming masses that worship them because they're so special and glamorous, you know?"
"Normal children don't grow up knowing everyone will die when they're eighteen."
"Touché. So. Feeling better than before?"
"Well... yes, I suppose."
"Good. Then I can leave now before the waiter remembers I didn't actually pay for my drinks."
For: meredydd
from: nimmenstjer
Characters: Crowley and Anathema
Warning: Mild language, confusing background and a rather lame joke.
"Didn't you ever had that? The one moment, everything is clear. Ok, horrible and the world is going to end and you're screwed either way, but clear. As in, you know where you're going, what you want to do, what happened, all of that. And then suddenly, alright, everything went as good as you could possibly hope for, but... you just don't know what to do with your life anymore. I mean, other people had plans and dreams, I just had a vague hope against knowing better."
The woman (who looked rather like that dark-haired girl at the cancelled Apocalypse, really) looked at him with the kind of look that told him that yes, she did happen to know she was being silly, and she would continue being silly and a bit blubbery perhaps and he could listen to her or pretend to do so, at least, or he could tell her she was being silly and rue that he wasn't discorporated at the moment. It was always the nice people with Crowley. They'd be likeable and smile in a way that told him he'd better be likeable back or else there'd be smiting. And, well, he did understand, he really did.
"Well, yeah." he replied. "But I just, you know, let it meander on a bit, do things one at the time or whatever seems to be a good idea, or just let things be. And, well, some of the ideas or hopes I have are just not a good idea for anyone involved, including me, so... uhm... anything specific in your case?"
"Hmm, well, I don't know if I'll still be alive tomorrow. Or in ten years. Or five. Or twenty, thirty, fifty. I don't know. I don't know if I'll have any children or not, if I'm going to get mugged, robbed, what job I'll have, if any... I don't have a goal anymore, in life. Enough to live for, don't get me wrong, and I know I'll find my way eventually, but..." she shrugged helplessly. "Just... no clear goal. I feel like... like a ship cut loose from its ropes."
"So, I'm guessing you expect me to, like, say to toughen up, take life as it comes to you, find some things that interest you, maybe find someone to love and go for it and all that drivel?"
"I guess. I already have someone to love, though."
"That's nice. To just be able to and all. And he or she loves you back too?"
"I suppose he does."
"Lucky bitch." Crowley muttered to his drink before taking a sip.
"Excuse me?" said Anathema. "That wasn't very nice."
Crowley shrugged apologetically. "Yeah, well, you're not the only one with problems, though."
"Point. But I don't think there's a need to be rude about it."
Crowley drained half his glass in one go.
"So... you were one of those men in the car, right? One of the two with the wings who got all pumped up before things, well, changed?"
"Oh. So you were there."
"Well, yes. It's a bit hard to forget, a thing like that, wouldn't you say?" she said. "But then again, it's nearly equally hard to remember."
"And he chides us for messing people about." Crowley grinned.
"And what you mean with that is...?"
"Never mind." Crowley said. He extended a hand. "The name is Crowley. Anthony J. Crowley."
"Anathema Device. If you'd like to know, I'm a witch, a psychic, and my boyfriend and I tried to stop the apocalypse."
"Well, nice to know that. I'm the Serpent of Eden, a fallen angel, and my best friend, who's of the non-fallen sort, and I tried to stop the apocalypse. Apple?"
"Uhm, no, thank you."
Crowley sniggered, and took a bite of the fruit himself.
"You do that joke often?" Anathema asked.
"Oh, no, not at all. Especially not with Jewishly raised people. I don't like figs that much."
"I think it's rather tasteless."
"This apple? Uh-uh, I only get myself tasty apples."
"You know what I mean."
"Hey, demon, remember?"
"Well, yes, but that doesn't mean... I mean, it's no excuse for you to..."
"To what, get you irritated?" Crowley thought about it.
"I guess not then. I'm not really here to do my job, after all."
"And your job is to be annoying?" Anathema said, disbelieving.
"Well, more like to inspire sin. But pissed off people make bad decisions."
"Aha." Anathema drank her tea. "So if I want to have some emotional guidance and all, I need to talk to your boyfriend?"
"He's not my boyfriend. We're friends. Have been for centuries, and very nearly millennia."
"Sure." said Anathema.
"I'm being serious here. Me and the angel are not in a romantic relationship of any kind. I was very clear about that to my superiors. Just friends."
"Well, since you deny it so miserably and vehemently, I suppose I have no other choice than to believe you."
"...there's no need for sarcasm. And anyway, the angel is okay with emotional and spiritual guidance, but you have to find your goals in life yourself. Didn't you want to be some sort of dancer or actress or Amazon or tyrant of a subcontinent when you were a little girl?"
"Not really, no."
"Not an astronaut or mad scientist or scantly clad barbarian heroine either? Race-car driver? Gentlewoman-thief? Doctor? Anything?"
"No. I just wanted to know things."
"You were a weird kid. Normal children dream of teeming masses that worship them because they're so special and glamorous, you know?"
"Normal children don't grow up knowing everyone will die when they're eighteen."
"Touché. So. Feeling better than before?"
"Well... yes, I suppose."
"Good. Then I can leave now before the waiter remembers I didn't actually pay for my drinks."