Date: 2009-08-14 01:52 pm (UTC)
Amongst all the milling, noisy emotions in his head, there are a very few that Aziraphael can identify, and for each one of those, there is a counterbalance.

Elation, of course, still giddy and unquenchable; but a quiet knot of worry beneath. That particular sense of peace that comes with knowing everything is once again in its proper place; the certainty that even if things are not yet quite right, now they can be -- and they will be. Yet still a growing sense of uneasiness follows him; a creeping uncertainty that inches higher each time Aziraphael fetches up against a sharp edge or a wary expression or a... an involuntary movement that wasn't there before (and then, the sick twist in his stomach when he thinks about why).


It seems like there's just too much there to deal with; more than any one person in any reasonable world should have to classify. Aziraphael certainly can't.

So it's fortunate, really, that at just that moment it all winnows down to one thing. One solid, manageable, important issue.

He can't remember if the firelight here has always made Crowley's eyes quite so -- quite like this, or whether it's just the blue-grey shadows underneath, and the fact that Aziraphael hasn't seen them in a year.
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