I'm just here for the ineffable love and tunes

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   The school group thundered through the Dulwich Picture Gallery with all the decorum one might expect from a herd of Year 4’s. From a discreet distance, an angel and a demon kept wary eyes over their shared ward.

 As the children entered the “The Amazing World of M.C.Escher” exhibition, they quieted and stared in wonder at the infinite swans, the mesmerizing reptilian tessellations, and the impossible staircases.

 “You needn’t have come, Crowley. It was my turn, after all. And I am capable of watching over Warlock on my own,” Aziraphale huffed, still bristling at Crowley’s insistence on accompanying him. “Why are you being so weird about this?”

 “No need to get your knickers in a twist, angel. Just wanted to see an old friend’s works again.” Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and abruptly turned toward the special exhibition hall before Aziraphale could inquire further.

 Aziraphale tugged at his waistcoat in irritation and wandered toward the Rembrandts. The years spent together at the Dowlings’ had accustomed Aziraphale to knowing exactly what the demon was up to. Why the secrecy?     The uncomfortable feelings stirring in the back of his mind reached toward consciousness only to be brusquely repressed. Why wouldn’t Crowley know a famous artist? The angel tutted at his own silliness and retraced his steps to the Eschers.

 The children were clustered at the far end of the hall, listening to the curator discuss the artist’s life and works. Crowley was standing before a wood print of a praying mantis perched on the marble sarcophagus of a bishop. Aziraphale tried to decipher the significance of the incongruous images.

 “What does it mean?” he asked Crowley cautiously.

 “The praying mantis is a grotesque reflection of the holy, similar in name only, a mockery. It’s waiting for a response that will never come,” whispered Crowley heartbreakingly softly.

 Something deep inside Aziraphale twisted, rebelling against the angel’s reflexive urge to dismiss it. He lifted his hand into the electrified air between them and reached for Crowley’s shoulder.

 “Or maybe it’s what dear Mauk said, just an exploration of depth, of three-dimensionality.” The demon laughed derisively and moved on to the next work.

 Aziraphale’s hand hung in midair as unexpected tenderness and unfamiliar jealousy wrestled in his chest. He watched the lithe figure with awkward limbs and ridiculous hips meander through the hall.

 “That was brilliant!” exclaimed one of Warlock’s classmates. Their migration jolted Aziraphale from his trance. Crowley brought up the rear surreptitiously. As the demon exited, Aziraphale noticed the last image, M.C. Escher’s final work, Snakes. The infinite undulating coils were spellbinding. Aziraphale drank it in greedily, his eyes memorizing the pattern that quenched a thirst he could not name.

 “Coming, angel?” Crowley turned back, his snake tattoo reflecting one of the museum lights.

 Aziraphale’s stomach dropped as he finally recognized the echos.

 “Of course, my dear,” Aziraphale croaked before rushing past Crowley.

 “Now who’s being weird?” muttered Crowley as he followed the angel out of the gallery

FINAL CHAPTER!!!

Aziraphale and Crowley get caught up in the destruction of the Tower of Babel. When each jumps to a wildly incorrect conclusion, they stumble upon deeper truths. GOEvents Name That Author Round 6. Prompt: No conversation's a good place to start...I wanna speak in tongues 500 word limit. This is a slightly expanded version of my submission. ❖ And the LORD said, Behold, the people… have one language….❖ Let us go down, and confound their language, that they may not understand one another's speech… ❖ So the LORD scattered them abroad from thence upon the face of all the earth.  Genesis 11:6-8 Aziraphale gazed up at the towering ziggurat. The shouts of hundreds of masons and carpenters created an energetic chorus buoying their shared purpose. The flow of people and materials was mesmerizing.

“Amazing, aren’t they?”

Aziraphale checked his delight at the familiar voice over his left shoulder. One hundred years had passed since the flood, since they went their separate ways. He took a breath before responding neutrally, “Crowley, what are you doing here?”

“Come to see the tower. You? On assignment?”

“No, just admiring their ingenuity. They’ve done so well since the, uh, incident.” 

“Incident? Is that what your lot call it? Murder is more like it. Look at Sarah over there. She has her great grandmother’s smile, but she’ll never know it. Her grandmother was too young to remember her own mother’s face,” snarled Crowley as he paced around the angel in agitation.

“Oh! You’re here to check in on the descendants of your stowaways!” exclaimed Aziraphale, almost fondly.

The demon charged at Aziraphale, stopping so close their noses almost touched. “Shhhh! I thought we agreed not to speak that word, for everyone’s safety.”

“Really, Crowley. Do you have to be so theatrical? I mean….”

A thundering explosion interrupted him. The previously boisterous voices quieted, and the earth shook violently. A cacophony of screams soon replaced the silence. Crowley snapped and extended his wing over the angel as the tower crumbled before them. Moments later, everyone standing clear of the rubble disappeared.

Aziraphale emerged from under Crowley’s wing, shock turning quickly to anger. “Crowley, what did you do!”

The demon stared at him in confusion.

“Answer me!”

Crowley tried to parse the garbled sounds coming from Aziraphale. As he surveyed the deserted debris, understanding dawned on him. “The rapture. Already?”

“Relax, angel. Don’t grip so hard.”

“Relax? There are rules! I’m quite sure I’m not supposed to be doing this. What if we’re caught?”

“There’s no one around. It’s fine.”

“What if I do something wrong? I could hurt you!”

“You’re going too slowly to hurt anything.”

“Hmph. So what do I do again with the… stick?”

“Gear stick…”

Chapter 3 of my submission for the Good AUmens event is up! The snake arrives at the palace to claim his prize, but all does not go as planned.

Chapter 1 of my submission for the Good AUmens event is up! Once upon a time, a childless couple adopted a little snake. When the snake was of age, he asked for the prince's hand in marriage. The king scoffed at such an idea and set three tasks before the snake. The snake, of course, performed all three miracles and went to the palace for his prize. When things take an unexpected turn, the prince must go on a journey of his own to find his true love and secure their happily ever after.

Written for Good Omens Name that Author: After Dark Challenge (Round 3) Prompt: "This better not awaken anything in me." <500 words. NSFW encouraged. [This is rated T; that’s as spicy as I get!]

“Of the fruit of the tree which is in the middle of the garden, God has said: You shall not eat it”

 ***

 The apple is not native to Mesopotamia.

 ***

God’s first rainstorm had finally stopped. Crawley stepped out from under Aziraphale’s wing and tasted the air, chasing the last delicious remnant of petrichor. He knew he should slither off on his merry way, but he wasn’t ready to part company with this nervous, sword–gifting, wing–lifting, demon–charming guardian of the Eastern Gate. Socializing with a principality was no doubt the wrong thing, but wasn’t the wrong thing what a demon was supposed to do? Perhaps he could offer something in return for keeping him warm and dry.

“Do you want a taste? Of the forbidden fruit?”

“Absolutely not. Out of the question.”

“C’mon. You already know the difference between good and evil. What’s the harm? Besides what else do you have to do now that those two are out there and we’re in here?”

“Well, I suppose it might help me better understand them. And it did look rather tempting. Oh.”

Crawley tried unsuccessfully to hide his smirk, but the resulting blush on Aziraphale’s cheeks made his stomach drop. How were his eyes so blue? “Ngk, uh, this way.”

After a moment's hesitation, Aziraphale followed the ebony wings gliding to the center of the Garden.

Crawley pulled the long yellow fruit from the stalk and handed it to Aziraphale. “You peel it.”

“What do you mean ‘peel’ it?” Aziraphale turned the fruit over in his hand, eyeing it suspiciously.

“Oh, let me.” As Crawley impatiently retrieved the fruit, their hands brushed, generating a breathtaking spark between them (static electricity being one of God’s more recent inventions). He shook his hand out before pulling back the thick yellow skin to reveal the soft white treasure within. He handed it back, this time carefully avoiding the other’s fingers.

"This better not awaken anything in me," the angel huffed to himself. He took a deep breath and tentatively licked the fruit. The flavour exploded on his tongue. He flashed a radiant smile to the transfixed demon and took a second, more confident lick.

Oh, fuck. This was a mistake. Crawley’s chest tightened and his breathing turned shallow as the angel continued to explore the fruit with his tongue. In a voice suddenly an octave higher, he pleaded, “Just eat it already!”

“Am I doing it wrong? Show me,” Aziraphale requested earnestly.

Oh, Satan, he’s going to be the end of me. “Take a bite!” Crawley frantically directed.

Now concerned he was doing it all dreadfully wrong, Aziraphale slowly opened his mouth and wondered how big a bite would be correct. After adjusting back and forth for a moment, he finally bit down. The taste was indescribable, like sunshine and bird song and the iridescent wing of a dragonfly. This was his first taste of anything, and he wanted more. He moaned and wiggled in delight.

Thud.

Belated  tumblr update. Chapters 5 and 6 are up. Chapter 5 concludes Part One, which covered the entire set up of Persuasion. Chapter 6 begins Part Two which will cover the book through the unfortunate events in Lyme. Updating Mondays and Thursdays.