(no subject)
It's early autumn on Persephone, and around Southdown Abbey's somewhat remote landing strip, the trees are starting their slow transformation from green to vivid reds and golds. It's still warm, on the whole, but there's the slight suggestion of an edge to the breeze. Andronicus Crowley is wearing a scarf, Prior Fell isn't.
It's been a long few weeks for the CEO of Bentley Aeronautics, days divided into mornings and afternoons. Depending largely on the daily temperature (and its effect on Crowley's temperament), one is invariably devoted to conducting affairs of business from afar, via one of the abbey's few Cortex hubs, and the other to the draining task of discussing politics and strategy with Southdown's other two guests, Gabriel and Regan Tam. It hasn't been easy, but from what Aziraphael can discern, even as the weather cools, relations have begun to warm, ever so slightly, like the colours of the foliage.
And having Crowley at the abbey for longer than a weekend hasn't been all bad. It's this, mainly, that he's reminded of, watching the grin widen on the demon's face as the breeze picks up. And suddenly, it isn't a breeze any more, but a roaring noise of a hurricane - Crowley's scarf whips about, Aziraphael's hair comes loose from its tie, and a whirlwind of autumn leaves swirls about the landing strip.
Serenity is coming in for landing.
It's been a long few weeks for the CEO of Bentley Aeronautics, days divided into mornings and afternoons. Depending largely on the daily temperature (and its effect on Crowley's temperament), one is invariably devoted to conducting affairs of business from afar, via one of the abbey's few Cortex hubs, and the other to the draining task of discussing politics and strategy with Southdown's other two guests, Gabriel and Regan Tam. It hasn't been easy, but from what Aziraphael can discern, even as the weather cools, relations have begun to warm, ever so slightly, like the colours of the foliage.
And having Crowley at the abbey for longer than a weekend hasn't been all bad. It's this, mainly, that he's reminded of, watching the grin widen on the demon's face as the breeze picks up. And suddenly, it isn't a breeze any more, but a roaring noise of a hurricane - Crowley's scarf whips about, Aziraphael's hair comes loose from its tie, and a whirlwind of autumn leaves swirls about the landing strip.
Serenity is coming in for landing.