sauntered_downward | for salutosinedelectat

"It's getting closer!" Yelling the obvious doesn't help, but it doesn't do any harm, either, so.

But he double takes at Crowley, still very much holding onto what he can so he's knocked out of his seat entirely. "Wh--" It is a plan, is the thing. It is a plan, but if it goes wrong, if Aziraphale makes even a single mistake, acts too late, the consequences should be about the worst possible.

Flashes of the trial. Of the small test demon. Of how they all cowered. Of the word 'assurance'. They aren't just risking discorporation.

He's staring at Crowley with genuine fear of someone who might lose everything on a single play of the cards.

"I--" He falters again. He tries to think, he tries he tries, but he's never been good at making up plans on the spot. "Crowley." The tone says all of it in one.

Crowley's lips tighten into a thin line as he drives the trolly straight ahead. The temple gates, with a few lingering tourists, are up ahead of them, and Crowley barrels over the stairs to move up. The moment they drive over consecrated ground, he can feel it, the heat and discomfort of being there, being somewhere he's not supposed to. Somewhere holy. The thing behind them must feel it, too.

It grips onto the trolly again and slams it back, knocking Crowley up. He grips tighter onto the wheel.

"You can do it," he says to Aziraphale. "I trust you, you can save us both. You can save me."

It's just a discorporation for Aziraphale, but who knows where he'll end up without a body. Where he'd go. Crowley, well, he'd just be no more. It was almost easier that way.

You can save us both. You can save me.

His ears are ringing. Why would an angel's ears be ringing? How would anyone's ears be ringing with all the awful racket of this particular endeavor?

He stares ahead, feels as the trolly rattles and shakes and is once again attacked and slammed. He's knocked against the door again - probably a bruise or four, should he ever actually get those - but he holds on tighter, keeps his eyes ahead, watches as tourists yell and run out of the way. As they start to reach the temple, ahead at the trees past it.

He's gripping the door as tight as he can. He's not even blinking.

"Okay." Quiet enough, considering the racket.

He can do this. He's got to.

Crowley can see the glimmer of the water. No guards or anything around holy water, that still boggles his mind! But he thinks, he imagines the car can go faster. And the speed picks up, but the creature starts to circle it. Black, inky smoke, twisting in strange tendrils. Crowley can almost hear it sniffing, picking up the dying purple light in his palm that amplifies his aura and scent.

The creature twists and the trolly convulses.

"No, you don't!" Crowley says, and he presses harder. Faster. They head directly for the small, delicate looking red bridge over the body of water in the garden.

Aziraphale is pushed back against his seat, grimacing, waiting, still unblinking. Watching the car take some lower branches with it, the approaching red bridge, the rushing, the clattering and the shaking. And he has to wait, he has to wait until they're almost in the water, he has to make sure it touches the water, he--

The car crashes through the side of the bridge in a terrible sound, the water approaches at a deadly pace, he suddenly grips one of Crowley's hand on the wheel--

There's the millisecond of the front of the car hitting the water, and maybe even the splash against the windshield. But, then, a pull, and they're gone.

Right over the rest of the water, right outside the park, suddenly dropping on the hard ground of a mostly empty parking lot just outside the park limits. Aziraphale hits the asphalt with a grunt, but it's worth noting he never let go of the demon's hand.

Good thing it's dark. Can't just have a car crashing into a small lake and two people apparating out of thin air in the span of seconds, in a nice place like this.

Edited 2019-07-26 22:03 (UTC)

There's a second, the second where the trolly hits the water, that he thinks that it's over. It's over, and they're about to crash into the water. It's over, and they're going in, and any second now he's going to be obliterated. And then Aziraphale's hand is over his, and he turns his head, and it's all right. It's all right if this is it, because Aziraphale is safe.

And then they're instantly outside of the park, landing in the carpark. He would say, if ever questioned, that he never doubted Aziraphale, not one second. But he also feels the intense desire to hug the angel, because that was a close one.

He grips his hand, glancing at the fading glowing spot on his other palm. It goes out, and he gives Aziraphale's hand a tug.

"This way!" He picks a direction. There are shops and restaurants on either side of the street. They can go anywhere.

On Aziraphale's side, should he ever be asked, he will say that was the plan all along, and that he had everything under control. But he feels like he rather not bring it up ever again.

He holds onto the demon's hand (oh, sweet irony), rushing along with him. He looks back, but the lakes are too far and too well covered for him to be sure the creature died there. Certainly, it only needed to touch it, right? It should be over, right?

He looks forward again, around at the restaurants and shops. Considers the fact that they're not a particularly subtle presence here, more so than in London, but nobody seems to have noticed them. And that's fine, that's perfect.

He follows Crowley, and keeps an eye out around them, watching, sensing. "Did that do it?"

"For now," Crowley says. "But we'll need to stay low, at least until they work out that their big scary pet is dead."

He turns into the nearest shop, a ramen and sushi shop, and gives Aziraphale a tug inside. Not exactly how they wanted to see the restaurants and sights around Japan, but, well, it's something at least. And Crowley has no idea how many things are following them at this moment. Just the one? Dozens?

A very polite member of waitstaff steps up to them as they enter, and Crowley looks absolutely stunned. Do they look so normal right now? He feels completely ruffled.

The thing about not knowing is that the possibilities are endless. There could be plants, right here, in the restaurant. That thing could still be following them, more quietly. The world could be back to ending tomorrow. Trying to consider all of the chances is just a fool's game.

He's looking around the restaurant when they're approached, and while he's still rattled, he still makes the effort to smile politely. He responds to the waitstaff in Japanese, a greeting, replies, a slight hesitation and faltering at a point, and a request for a table.

Do they look normal? Maybe. Maybe not. Possibly might be something odd to see what looks like a man in shades at night, or another one in a long pristine jacket, tartan bow tie and worn out vest. Maybe people are just polite.

They certainly have just been addressed as a couple, and Aziraphale is doing his usual song and dance of not talking about it.

Crowley doesn't speak any Japanese. He's made it a point of not learning any language that wasn't completely local and essential at the time because it just wasn't necessary. And besides, Aziraphale can lead this. He's gotten them into and out of stranger things. Maybe not as dangerous.

There has to be some way to hide their scents, their auras, whatever it is that they're being tracked with. With everything that they send out to find them, they'll find something stronger next. Something with a better nose, faster and more deadly. Crowley knows it, and he's certain Aziraphale does, as well.

"What sort of alcohol do we have here?" he asks as they're seated.

He's eyeing the room, but one will forgive him if he really just does want to settle down for a nice authentic dinner in a nice restaurant, and forget this whole ordeal for an hour or two. They did just spend over 10 hours on a flight, which nearly crashed, and were almost discorporated/destroyed by a terrible, violent creature they couldn't even identify. They do deserve to relax, no?

" Hm." He looks over the menu. "The usual, wine, beer. Sake and shochu if you'd like." He's still tense, still listening, but he keeps his tone light. Casual. Well, semi-casual.

"... Do you sense it?" He looks over at him, subtly.

"You order whatever's drinkable, I'll take it," he says.

Crowley looks over the menu but it doesn't even matter to him. Aziraphale always knows the best food, he can pick for them both. He looks at the door, then over his sunglasses at the other patrons. None of them look demonic, not to Crowley, anyway.

He concentrates on what he's sensing, but right now all he feels is tense. Normally, he'd chalk that up to being in a new place, new situation, very nearly being completely obliterated only a few moments earlier. But that could very easily mean a whole lot more now.

"What do you feel?" he asks.

" Nothing, now." Which should be a good thing. The ideal thing. A sign that they took care of the creature and that they can breathe. He sure hopes so, anyway.

He takes a look around again, but is approached by waitstaff and broken out of it. More polite smiles, ordering drinks - which he could do with a couple of doses, now that they've landed and successfully not died - and food.

He folds his hands and looks out at the other tables. "I supposed that's that." At least, in regards to whatever that thing was.

"For now," Crowley agrees. He reaches up and presses a fingertip to his temples, reaching out his mind, trying to see if he can feel the thing, feel it anywhere nearby. All he feels is the city, the low levels of sin that he's used to seeking out everywhere.

"If it's still alive, it's not anywhere near us," he says. Does that mean they're safe? Certainly not. But staying around humans, staying here, in public, is probably the best they can do for the moment.

He looks over at Aziraphale and takes a breath. "Are you all right?"

Aziraphale looks at him, expression softening, and he does go to answer - but he falters and sighs instead, hanging his head slightly.

"Well, in one piece, so far." Which is more honest than he'd usually prefer to answer, but he's exhausted. And not even bad-day-art-work exhausted, since he does not sleep, but some way more visceral and honest, in his core.

He looks up at Crowley agai. "You?" How was it to stare actual death in the face less than 15 minutes ago?

How is he? Well, besides narrowly escaping actual death, seeing the water that could kill him come up to the car and just avoiding it, not to mention not having even what could have been a peaceful moment with his lifelong companion, he supposes he's doing all right. But he isn't about to say that. Aziraphale has had enough on him.

"I don't like how fast they found us," he says. "We hadn't even landed yet."

The waitress presents them with a bottle and several glasses. Despite how Crowley likes to be with people, he certainly can't be mean to this person. She's bringing him alcohol and essentially giving them a place to hide.

"We need a more permanent solution."

Aziraphale is very good at switching between polite smiles and his more genuine expressions, so they should be fine. Crowley doesn't need to take the mantle of having to look chipper towards mortals. He utters a 'thank you' to the water, and is entirely too happy to see alcohol again, their old friend. Some nice sake for the both of them.

"We do, but what?" He takes the bottle, pours them both a drink. "They're getting smarter, and clearly don't even care about making a scene." He puts the bottle back down, and stops, for just a second, thinking what could have been of the people on that plane. He shakes his head slightly, with a bad taste in his mouth.

Crowley takes a drink of the sake, and makes a little face at it. It's not like anything he's tasted before. Very simple, very crisp. It's not unpleasant, it's just different. He imagines that's how a lot will be----like when he traveled before. He's become very accustomed to things being how he knows them.

"If they have an army of things like that, we can't fight them," he admits, which takes out his suggestion from before, that they bring the fight to them. Especially if things get bigger, get harder. "What does...Upstairs have?"

Aziraphale takes a sip. When he's asked, however, he hesitates, awkwardly searching for words. Then he huffs, almost embarrassed.

" Soldiers. And a lot of..." He vaguely waves a hand. " Ineffability."

Which is his way of saying that there's rarely any information that trickles down to the lower ranks. Such as Principalities.

"Can we handle soldiers?" Crowley asks, looking at him worriedly. Giant terrifying monsters is something Crowley has experience with. He can handle that. Flaming sword wielding angels? That's not anything he's used to. And he doesn't really know how to get a hold of Hellfire. He supposes he could curse a flamethrower, if he was being particularly creative.

"I suppose what I should ask is, how much do we not want to handle soldiers?"

Aziraphale opens his mouth, makes a couple of unsure noises, then closes it. He's never been a particularly...er, capable angel. He fought in a war, yes. They all had, demons too. It's not something to hold at a standard. And one didn't need to look too close to find that he never exactly held the respect of his divine peers. So he might be a little biased, specially as someone who, until as of late, was meant to tout the strength of Heaven.

"I would say we don't want to handle any of them, preferably." Which is a fact, rather than a ranking. "But we don't have any way of knowing what they're doing now, not with them believing we are impervious to--" Ugh. "er, conventional ways of disposal."

"Disposal," Crowley repeats, taking another sip of the sake. "Elimination. Destruction. Murder. Might as well just call it what it is. They want to murder us. For doing what? Being friends? Stopping the destruction of billions of people and boiling the oceans? Which was probably Her plan all along!"

Not that the angels and demons will see it that way, of course. They only see the War, the War they had looked forward to and wanted all this time. Can't win a War if there isn't a War.

"We can stop them, but we have to be ready, the way we were before the trials."

He winces slightly when Crowley lists all the words for their death, and takes another sip to wash it down.

"Before the trials, we had help." The prophecy, even the Antichrist. They've always been on their own, but things were different in that time. "Unless we happen to come upon another piece of paper with an answer by sheer luck, I don't think we have a way of knowing their next steps."

"We don't need prophets from four hundred years ago to know what they're planning," Crowley says. "We know them. We worked for them. We sent them memos, we followed their moves. They...they just do what they think is the cleverest. And we were cleverer than them for six thousand years, angel. We can beat them now."

Can and must are interchangeable here, because they have to be. Crowley can't see another way they're getting out of this one.

Aziraphale looks at him, wanting to believe those words, wanting to believe they can do it all over again and come out the other side. He wants to have faith in that, if nothing else. He wants peace, and he wants to enjoy it with Crowley.

He's very, very tired. He didn't think it was possible for him to feel tired. It's a very odd feeling.

But his side of the motivational seesaw is interrupted when the waiter brings them their order - a nice sushi assortment for the table, along with the appropriate sauces and sides.

He smiles up at her and thanks her, watching her leave, then setting his eyes on the dish.

A pause and a little breath. And a slightly more chipper sounding tone, to go with the food, of course.

" Would you like to try it?"

for salutosinedelectat

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I'd like to thank Google Maps for the help

Thanks, Momma Google!

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