Happy holidays, _silverfox!

[goe_mod]

Title: The Rising of the Storm
Recipient: _silverfox
Author: meredydd
Prompt: "The rising of the storm" (prompt choice 3/3)
Pairing: Gen, Aziraphale/Crowley friendship (slash if you really squint)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: During the summer of 1939, Aziraphale and Crowley are enjoying a sojourn in Amsterdam when they both begin to feel a storm rising over humankind.

Comments

[ladymouse2]

Ah! Of course they'd FEEL it coming, like an animal sensing the temblor or the wave, but profoundly more sensitive and all too terribly recognized and understood to the marrow.

I know Aziraphale doesn't sleep but you make his attempt here work.

"I don't hate this place"...heartbreaking. And the angel's impassioned: "Crowley, these are living beings, not phonographs or...or...automobiles! They aren't simply damaged by this! They are destroyed!"

And above all, each of them feeling the pull of their allegiances, of their puppet masters...and longing--planning--to subvert the design. The only supernaturals ready to cast their lot--long before the novel--with humanity above all.

Lovely.

[_silverfox]

Thank you! This is great. I can almost feel it myself even though I'm not at all an angel (not even a fallen one). *wants to cuddle them both and carry them away to safety*

[sticktothestory]

Oh, I loved the sense of foreboding in this, and the moment where Aziraphale starts talking about capacity for cruelty and you realize it's coming from the humans. Much enjoyed, Secret Author!

[conjure_lass]

I love how Aziraphale wants to break out his wings. It sort of shows a lack of pure control over his actions, which given that angels aren't supposed to have free will, is a really nice touch.

I love their little words of advice to one another in the end. It was heartbreaking in the best sort of way. Loved this. Very well written. :D

[edna_blackadder]

Oh, this is so beautiful and terrifying. Your descriptions are so vivid that just imagining what they must feel is unsettling. This:

Striding down the narrow pavement, Crowley felt the urge to run, to fly, to just go and go fast. He felt the creeping dread one most often experiences when walking down a darkened corridor in an empty building that creaks just like footsteps. The fear that grows in the belly like a parasite, sucking away at happiness and peace until all that is left is a hollow shell, filled with shaking and crying.

And this:

But now, at that moment, looking out at the barges and the dark water, he wanted to shed it and take his true form, the one that would blind humans and, if he were more brave, stand beside Michael and wield swords against the Adversary. Aziraphale swallowed against the hard lump in his throat and shivered, despite the relative warmth of the day. The world around him seemed too bright, suddenly, too loud and too sharp.And their entire ending conversation...your prose is just so haunting, and I