[ In the Beginning, there was a garden. The Garden, the first one. There was a man, and a woman, and an angel, guarding the gate. And there was a tree, and a serpent, and the first temptation...
Only Aziraphale doesn't remember Crowley. What he does remember, right now, is Falling. Rebelling, and being banished, a million-light-year freestyle dive into a pool of boiling sulphur. So his mind connects the pieces - those that are left - the best it can. Aziraphale was the snake in the garden. He offered knowledge where it was not permitted. And for that, he was punished.
He remembers all of it. The pain, the regret, the fruitless, unheard pleas for mercy. The thousands of years afterwards, knowing that for him, there would be no salvation. No forgiveness. Not for all eternity. Try to tell him otherwise - that he never fell, that he's still an angel, that he's thinking of someone else - and he'll look at you in utter confusion. Or, more likely, contempt.
The warm, goodhearted angel Aziraphale is gone. The creature who's left is icy and distant, snide and quietly bitter. None of this would have worked out if you weren't, at heart, just a little bit, a good person, an angel had told a demon once. But this demon hasn't had an angel at his side throughout human history. He's had no one to remind him of the Light, no one to draw out the goodness deep within. No one to believe in him.
In Wonderland, he brushes past, not bothering to dodge out of the way. So when his shoulder slams into yours, it's hard, almost painful. A. Z. Fell shoots a glare like daggers over his shoulder, with an exasperated huff. He glances down, wrinkling his nose and brushing imaginary dirt off his pristine coat. ]
demon aziraphale (ota)
Only Aziraphale doesn't remember Crowley. What he does remember, right now, is Falling. Rebelling, and being banished, a million-light-year freestyle dive into a pool of boiling sulphur. So his mind connects the pieces - those that are left - the best it can. Aziraphale was the snake in the garden. He offered knowledge where it was not permitted. And for that, he was punished.
He remembers all of it. The pain, the regret, the fruitless, unheard pleas for mercy. The thousands of years afterwards, knowing that for him, there would be no salvation. No forgiveness. Not for all eternity. Try to tell him otherwise - that he never fell, that he's still an angel, that he's thinking of someone else - and he'll look at you in utter confusion. Or, more likely, contempt.
The warm, goodhearted angel Aziraphale is gone. The creature who's left is icy and distant, snide and quietly bitter. None of this would have worked out if you weren't, at heart, just a little bit, a good person, an angel had told a demon once. But this demon hasn't had an angel at his side throughout human history. He's had no one to remind him of the Light, no one to draw out the goodness deep within. No one to believe in him.
In Wonderland, he brushes past, not bothering to dodge out of the way. So when his shoulder slams into yours, it's hard, almost painful. A. Z. Fell shoots a glare like daggers over his shoulder, with an exasperated huff. He glances down, wrinkling his nose and brushing imaginary dirt off his pristine coat. ]
Mind how you go.