The Scholar and the Swordjock
Title: The Scholar and the Swordjock
Author: blueeyedtigress
Fandom: Good Omens
Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley
Prompt: 92. lightsaber
Rating: PG
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley revisit the past ....
"Here, here, hold on a sec! What are you doing, angel?!? You know how to handle a sword better than that!"
Crowley scowled and reached toward the angel, demanding the sword and shield. Aziraphale handed them over with a sigh and the slightest hint of a put-upon frown. Turning away slightly, the demon hunkered down behind the ornately painted plywood disc, and rained a series of rattan-and-duct-tape demonstration blows on the hapless apple tree standing nearby.
"My dear, I shouldn’t like you to damage that poor tree, if you wouldn’t mind ..."
"Ss’good for thiss kind of tree. Loosssenss the bark." He gave the tree's trunk a particularly vicious blow, then regarded the angel over the tops of his ubiquitous dark glasses. "Cathartic, too."
Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "But you know I’ve never used a shield. In the holy might of righteousness, my shield is ..." he paused and pointed Upwards "... that sort of thing. I’m used to simply having the sword. And not even that much anymore, really."
"Fine!" Crowley threw down the wooden weaponry with an exasperated humph. "I thought you'd be having fun here. We could go annoy the merchants instead ...?"
"No, no, Crowley, I am enjoying myself! Er, perhaps we can view the merchants' goods afterwards? I quite liked the idea of sparring with you, for old times' sake. And this is such a quaint little gathering." Aziraphale glanced around as he spoke, watching the early-twenty-first century citizens of the city of London in the United Kingdom of England-et-cetera play together at living in the mediaeval shire of Thamesreach in the mythical kingdom of Drachenwald. He thought of the squalour that had marked so much of the real Middle Ages, and decided he liked this version better ...
"Fine!" snapped the demon impatiently. "You don't like sword and shield, what do you want to spar with?"
Aziraphale flexed the fingers of his swordhand and smiled wistfully. "It was nice to have my old flaming sword back, even for just a little while ...."
"Flaming sword?"
"Yes, my dear, it felt so very right in my hand."
"Flaming sword. Here?" Crowley gestured at the surrounding humans without removing his gaze from the angel.
"Oh! Well. Er. Perhaps not then ..."
Even as Aziraphale was mumbling his way toward giving up on the whole idea, Crowley smiled. It was a smile not entirely unlike that of a cobra. He reached behind his back, and when his hand reappeared it held a box rather too large to have been hidden beneath the smooth lines of his jacket. (Crowley had been watching classic Warner Brothers cartoons that morning.) Opening the box, he took out two ornate, shining, silver-metal tubes, and tossed one to the angel, still grinning.
Aziraphale merely cocked an eyebrow at his counterpart, the look clearly saying something which the demon felt free to interpret as WTF?
Crowley moved fluidly into what almost looked like a dancer's pose, and touched a button on the tube-device. There was a distinctive snap-hummmmmmmm as the lightsaber ignited. The red blade thrummed through the air a few times, the demon every inch a Jedi Master -- except of course that Jedi Masters seldom grin like idiots.
As heads turned to identify the strangely familiar yet out-of-place noise, Aziraphale calmly waved his hand. The mediaeval re-enactors went back to their spinning and weaving and music and conversation, content in the knowledge that the swordjock over there was showing his friend the scholar a few moves that he could write about later. Nothing they hadn't seen before.
A strangely feral light glowed in the angel's face as he flicked on his lightsaber. The blue gleam of it limned his twinkling eyes. Saluting his opponent with the blade, he advanced toward Crowley .......
Author: blueeyedtigress
Fandom: Good Omens
Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley
Prompt: 92. lightsaber
Rating: PG
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley revisit the past ....
"Here, here, hold on a sec! What are you doing, angel?!? You know how to handle a sword better than that!"
Crowley scowled and reached toward the angel, demanding the sword and shield. Aziraphale handed them over with a sigh and the slightest hint of a put-upon frown. Turning away slightly, the demon hunkered down behind the ornately painted plywood disc, and rained a series of rattan-and-duct-tape demonstration blows on the hapless apple tree standing nearby.
"My dear, I shouldn’t like you to damage that poor tree, if you wouldn’t mind ..."
"Ss’good for thiss kind of tree. Loosssenss the bark." He gave the tree's trunk a particularly vicious blow, then regarded the angel over the tops of his ubiquitous dark glasses. "Cathartic, too."
Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "But you know I’ve never used a shield. In the holy might of righteousness, my shield is ..." he paused and pointed Upwards "... that sort of thing. I’m used to simply having the sword. And not even that much anymore, really."
"Fine!" Crowley threw down the wooden weaponry with an exasperated humph. "I thought you'd be having fun here. We could go annoy the merchants instead ...?"
"No, no, Crowley, I am enjoying myself! Er, perhaps we can view the merchants' goods afterwards? I quite liked the idea of sparring with you, for old times' sake. And this is such a quaint little gathering." Aziraphale glanced around as he spoke, watching the early-twenty-first century citizens of the city of London in the United Kingdom of England-et-cetera play together at living in the mediaeval shire of Thamesreach in the mythical kingdom of Drachenwald. He thought of the squalour that had marked so much of the real Middle Ages, and decided he liked this version better ...
"Fine!" snapped the demon impatiently. "You don't like sword and shield, what do you want to spar with?"
Aziraphale flexed the fingers of his swordhand and smiled wistfully. "It was nice to have my old flaming sword back, even for just a little while ...."
"Flaming sword?"
"Yes, my dear, it felt so very right in my hand."
"Flaming sword. Here?" Crowley gestured at the surrounding humans without removing his gaze from the angel.
"Oh! Well. Er. Perhaps not then ..."
Even as Aziraphale was mumbling his way toward giving up on the whole idea, Crowley smiled. It was a smile not entirely unlike that of a cobra. He reached behind his back, and when his hand reappeared it held a box rather too large to have been hidden beneath the smooth lines of his jacket. (Crowley had been watching classic Warner Brothers cartoons that morning.) Opening the box, he took out two ornate, shining, silver-metal tubes, and tossed one to the angel, still grinning.
Aziraphale merely cocked an eyebrow at his counterpart, the look clearly saying something which the demon felt free to interpret as WTF?
Crowley moved fluidly into what almost looked like a dancer's pose, and touched a button on the tube-device. There was a distinctive snap-hummmmmmmm as the lightsaber ignited. The red blade thrummed through the air a few times, the demon every inch a Jedi Master -- except of course that Jedi Masters seldom grin like idiots.
As heads turned to identify the strangely familiar yet out-of-place noise, Aziraphale calmly waved his hand. The mediaeval re-enactors went back to their spinning and weaving and music and conversation, content in the knowledge that the swordjock over there was showing his friend the scholar a few moves that he could write about later. Nothing they hadn't seen before.
A strangely feral light glowed in the angel's face as he flicked on his lightsaber. The blue gleam of it limned his twinkling eyes. Saluting his opponent with the blade, he advanced toward Crowley .......