(no subject)

[a_fell]

I.

They arrive in Iceland in near-darkness concealing a dense, freezing fog that gives way to low clouds once outside of Reykjavik. It's a long drive to the tiny village of Laugarvatn, 70 miles in the blackness, and when they finally reach the place they're spending the night (to call it a hotel would imply there are more than six rooms), they're too tired to do more than kick their shoes off before falling into bed.

The next morning isn't much of a morning; it's lightening by the time Crowley is conscious enough to get out of bed with some prompting from the angel, fully daylight after he gets through the shower, and it doesn't take much longer than that to get the lay of the land. The town has 300 people, a post office, grocery store, restaurant, and not much tourism in the winter. It's hard to stay under the radar in such a place, so the few hours of daylight are spent asking quietly for the best sites to see the aurora and watching the cloudy skies, tense and dark. The sun, never far above the horizon, sinks slowly into a hesitant twilight. And then it's time to go.

The jeep-shaped vehicle they borrow from the nice gentleman at the (surprisingly open) tourist office bumps along over patches of rock and ice and who knows what else; Aziraphael is less than comfortable with what they might be rolling over with 'adventure' style suspension and no visible road. The headlamps illuminate a small patch of sameness directly in front, and the rest of the world around them is an unknowable black. All the ground that he can see is a grayish white dotted with darker patches of jutting rock. The heat blasting in the vehicle is just short of oppressive, but Crowley's face behind the wheel is grim and uncomfortable. Aziraphael tries moving one hand to the edge of Crowley's seat so that the side of his finger brushes the material of the demon's trousers, but he can't tell whether Crowley actually notices.

"I think the clouds might be lightening up," he says encouragingly. "I'm almost certain I saw a star or two over there."

Comments

[aj_crawley]

"Oh."hereHis stomach knots.thereHe doesn't have to look. He could keep his eyes shut.isBut it's so cold. It's so, so cold.noOne gloved hand on Aziraphael's, Crowley takes off his sunglasses, and opens his eyes.
In the beginning, when God created the world, the Earth was formless and desolate. The raging ocean that covered everything was engulfed in total darkness. And then God commanded, Fiat lux.   Let   there   be

LIGHT

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

He's looking over Crowley's shoulder at the shifting light, mesmerised, but his counterpart's lack of enthusiasm is rather striking.

"Oh?" he repeats, trying vainly to see Crowley's face. "You don't think so?"

[aj_crawley]

It's green.

He'd seen it in the brochures, but it's really green. Leaf-green, grass-green, a glowing rain of vivid, living green.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"Even you couldn't convince me that you see this sort of thing all the time," he rambles, still too much in awe for his tone to include any sound of reproach. In fact, despite the casual words, his voice is hushed.

[aj_crawley]

And -

And over there, there's a shy shimmer of red, like the blush on an apple.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"I doubt one could even replicate it on a smaller scale. A screen certainly wouldn't do it justice. Even in colour," he adds after a moment.

He frowns slightly, confused, glancing between the lights in the sky and the back of Crowley's ear.

[aj_crawley]

"It's green," Crowley says.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

Aziraphael hesitates.

"Yes, for the most part," he says slowly. "Is that - er. Were you hoping for something else?"

[aj_crawley]

In gentle increments, Crowley pulls free of Aziraphael's arms, and steps away from the jeep.

One step, two steps, three.

That's where he stops, turning slowly to take in the sky.
Fiat lux.
East to west it runs, now a streaking curtain of light, now a river - a great serpent, snaking a path across the starry sky.
That is how the world was made.
(Some call it The Universe.)
And the demon Crawly looked upon it, and saw that it was good.
( come )

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

Aziraphael watches him, still a little perplexed, but he doesn't seem distressed. He can clearly see Crowley turn, staring upward, lit by a phenomenon in the sky neither sun nor moon.

It's strange to see him outside without his sunglasses. Usually, it means that he doesn't have to hide anything.

[aj_crawley]

This - planet. This bloody planet -

Crowley worked on Plants - green, growing, living things (he's never minded getting his hands dirty).
( come )He'd liaised with Stars. They'd worked on photosynthesis together (food from light). He'd been in and out of Sky all the time, and he'd never, never seen -

Did anyone think to put it there? To paint the polar skies in shining, unreal Technicolor, sodding miles away from any reasonable civilisation, for the reindeer and the - the fucking polar bears to look at?

Or was it just - was it just

(Crowley isn't breathing, not since that first icy inhale. But he doesn't think he could if he tried.)

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

He still doesn't move; he's watching the sky, yes, but watching Crowley as well. The tension from before doesn't seem to have dissipated, only changed subtly into something even more intense.

He's never seen Crowley go willingly into an environment so cold. But then, he's never seen an environment like this. His eyes drift away from the demon, then gradually back again.

[aj_crawley]

Crowley loves people. He loves - game shows and toaster ovens and fast cars and statues and bad books and good music and wine and politics and stuffed dormice and stupid silver snuffboxes.
(upon thy belly shalt thou go)
He loves people.
(thy belly cleaving to the Earth)
It's easy to forget how much he loves the world.
(so close that your hand on my chest is my hand)
He'd - he'd worked on Plants. And in the icy regions of the world, the sky rains colour and light for no good reason. It was just an accident.
(so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep)
( commala )

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

The seconds tick by, and still Crowley doesn't announce that it's time to call it a night and race back to the heated car.

"Everything all right, my dear?" Aziraphael calls finally, unable to make out Crowley's expression in the shifting play of lights.

[aj_crawley]

It doesn't all register at once. First, distantly, the sound of Aziraphael's voice, and then the fact that the angel is not beside him.

It's only when Crowley turns to look for him, and sees him still standing there by the jeep, that -

The first thing that flickers across his face is confusion. Bewilderment, even, that Aziraphael should not even be looking at the sky; should instead be standing there asking such a deeply, stupidly banal question.

The second is hurt.

The third is contempt.

"Everything's fine," he says coldly, and - just a little - indistinctly.

(He's standing in a patch of slush, but he can't feel his lips.)

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"All right," he says, bewildered again. "Er. Let me know if you're too cold."

But Crowley isn't in any mood to let him know, apparently, so while Aziraphael turns his attention back to the wonder in the sky, he glances down at Crowley every few minutes. Just to make sure.

The wonder of this - of Creation - will never cease to amaze him. He can see neither the beginning of the ribbon of light, nor the end of it, but that doesn't stop him from trying.

"I wonder what it looks like from above," he muses aloud.

[aj_crawley]

Crowley bites it back (We'll find out, soon enough, not that you - ).

Because he doesn't want to say it.

He doesn't want to say it for the same reason he didn't want to look - as though it might, somehow, keep it from being real for just a little while longer.

Not that Aziraphael seems to -

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

It's for the best, maybe, that Crowley doesn't mention it; he doesn't like to think that way, and is stubbornly clinging to the idea that it will all work out somehow.

Someday, of course, he'll be proven wrong.

"Or from inside it," he adds, wide-eyed. "Perhaps it's like a rainbow, though, and only visible from far away."

He learnt that lesson early on about rainbows. Eventually.

[aj_crawley]

There's a ringing in Crowley's ears.
There's something in the air.
He doesn't care, Crowley says to the sky, from somewhere behind the great, fierce constriction in his chest. He doesn't care, but I do.
It's more pure than Heaven. It's more merciless than Hell.
Who was it that he first heard say it? Simon, maybe. He can't remember, except for this: five hundred years from now, they call it Earth-That-Was.
It's a compound, comprised of honesty, and belief.
He can't feel his fingers, or his feet. Only his chest, and the bright, impossible colours in the sky, and the clear flash of understanding.
In fact, of faith in something.
( I set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of a Covenant )
A great crackling white (White) force looking for something to be grounded in.
Above Crowley's head, the aurora flickers, flickers, and then - for a second, and only that - it flares, as straight and true as an arrow, east to west, streaming off beyond the edge of the world.
Even a tyre iron.
Five hundred years. How long does that give them? (Times are changing. They're coming to an end, for a start.) Only time, Crowley says to the sky. Only give me time.
Even a demon.
They (won) will win. Crowley knows that already. He has five hundred years to make it happen. And as for Earth-That-Was?

( and it will be the sign of a Covenant )

All floods recede eventually.

And that's a promise.

All Crowley has to do is save the world.

(Again.)
( come come commala )

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

Aziraphael takes a few steps away from the jeep (though in a different direction). He's not too particular about which; only that he's following the stream and he can keep Crowley in sight.

"Could fly up there and see," he muses in a low mutter, "but it's really too cold for that sort of thing. Freezing the wings isn't... isn't."

He hesitates. Looks up again, and keeps looking.

[aj_crawley]

He barely hears it in the first place. But it's the pause. That's what makes him glance over, checking to make sure Aziraphael hasn't taken off to investigate.

(For just a moment, he contemplates - )

( come and see )

"No," he agrees, voice rough from the cold.

He folds his arms, tight across his chest, to tuck his hands under his armpits.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

He's still staring at the sky when he hears it; it takes a moment for him to refocus on Crowley.

"Wouldn't make it," he says. "Most likely. Still."

He looks back again, frowning very slightly. "Still."

[aj_crawley]

Crowley's boots crunch over the ice: one two, one two, onetwo (a little erratic), one two.

"'F you want."

Sometime in the last few seconds, he's put his sunglasses back on.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"It would be miles and miles up," he points out, still half to himself. He hears the slight hitch in Crowley's step, but doesn't say anything. Not yet, at any rate.

"It's quite possible that even if I did make it that far, it would disappear."

[aj_crawley]

He shrugs (not much of a movement, except for the muted rustle of his coat), and looks back up at the light.

A single breath mists in the air in front of him.

"Beats me."