southern_pansy (southern_pansy) wrote in valloic, @ 2020-09-04 14:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, ₴ inactive: wynonna earp |
WHO: Wynonna Earp ; Aziraphale
WHAT: Getting to know a little bit about one another
WHEN: Backdated to last month
WHERE: A.Z. Fell's Bookshop
WARNINGS: Demons and stabby stuff
STATUS: Complete in gdocs
The bookshop was closed. Ever since Azirphale’s arrival in Vallos, actually. Or rather, his second appearance. He didn’t recall his first visit, though there was ample evidence that he’d been there. Case in point, his bookshop. He told people that it was closed for renovations, but the truth was, Aziraphale was nesting, seeking comfort and shelter in the one familiar place in this whole island. It didn’t take much for him to imagine he was still in London, especially with the curtains drawn so he couldn’t see the street outside.
There was a large sign on the door. A yellow one, with bold letters written with a black sharpie. CLOSED Until Further Notice. So why was there a woman standing at the door, trying to look in? With his arms laden with full grocery bags, Aziraphale’s entry into his shop was blocked, and this made him perturbed, so he cleared his throat loudly. “Ah-HEM!” When that got her attention, he repeated the obvious. “The bookshop is closed.”
Since her arrival in Vallo, Wynonna had been having a hard time of actually processing what was going on but was doing her best to at least seem less bothered by it on the outside. However, one thing she knew she needed to do was figure out her way around this place and not have to rely entirely on Doc considering he had work and other commitments he was tied to prior to her showing up. It was during one of these excursions she found herself standing outside of what looked like a book shop. How she continued to find herself at these places, she wasn’t sure - but it looked quiet enough. And the map on the network device said nothing about it being closed, so when she arrived and saw the sign, well. That sucked.
She leaned against one of the windows with a hand by her eyes to shield glare as she looked in, wanting to see why it might’ve been closed. Was it under a remodel? Was it actually a secret hideout for some cult? There were just so many opti-- “ah!” she yelped at the ‘ah-hem’, turning suddenly as her hand went to her hip instinctively for a gun that wasn’t there. The other hand came up to her chest out of shock as she was met with a glare by a man in mostly whites and cream colors with starkly blonde hair. “Uh, yeah. I see that,” she said, pointing to the sign. She paused then, realizing he was carrying a bunch of groceries and raised an eyebrow at him as he continued to stand there and stare her down. It took a few seconds before she realized she was standing in the doorway, looking around for a moment before taking a step to the side. “Is this your place?”
After Aziraphale’s initial aggravation faded, he was able to sense something about the woman that was out of the ordinary. He’d always been able to do this, but back home, surrounded by ordinary humans he didn’t meet many people who were special, so he never bothered to think about it.
In Vallo, however, there were all sorts of extraordinary people. He’d met a man possessed by a demon and an alien, to name a few, so his ‘radar’ was more attuned. And right not his radar was telling him this woman was special, indeed. Something very familiar… something not too different than his own radiance. Not angelic, but heavenly, that was for sure. Somebody touched by the divine, possibly even a saint? That was enough to spark his curiosity, and so his mood changed toward her.
“Why yes, it is. My name is Mr Fell. Uhhhh… is there a book that you’re looking for, specifically?”
The shift in his attitude. Mood? Toward her surprised her a little and she kept a cautious eye on him, giving him a once over and a few feet of distance. There’d been too much that had happened in Wynonna’s life to make her trust people easily and more often than not she found when someone’s mood shifted toward her so quickly it was because they wanted something from her, and not necessarily something good.
“Hi. Wynonna. Um, not really?” she replied, looking down at the network device in her hand before she tucked it into the back pocket of the jeans she’d worn three days in a row now - if she was going to be stuck here, she really needed to find some more clothes. “I’m just trying to get a grip on this place and saw the shop. Sorry for being a snoop,” she added, looking back at the window she’d had her face pressed against and cringing at the smears she’d left behind. Way to be that person, Wynonna. “I can, uh. Go. You’ve got your hands full, so I’ll just…y’know.”
Oh, crumbs! Aziraphale realized from Wynonna’s body language that he’d come on too strong. It reminded him of when Crowley and he picked up Anathema and drove her to her cottage, the way she was nervous, a little frightened even. This was not his intention, and he needed to think of a way to lay her fears to rest.
“No need to apologize. If anything, I ought to apologize. I’ve just been a little … jumpy… since I arrived. It was totally unexpected, and I’m still trying to adjust to being here.” Which was the truth. “Uh…” he feigned helplessness, looking at the groceries in his arms. “I’m in a bit of a predicament. Do you think… you could hold my bags while I unlock the door?”
If Wynonna hadn’t been there, Aziraphale would’ve miracled the doors open to get inside, but he thought this might do the trick.
She suspected that the way he was feeling was the way most of them felt, at least for a short while and she was in the thick of those emotions at the moment so while she was still kind of put off by how he’d acted toward her, she understood. At his request to hold the bags for him, she paused and bit back a scoff as she stepped forward to take the bags from his arms. “Yeah, that’s fine,” she replied quietly, giving him a little bit of a smile. There was no need to be a bitch about it, was there?
Adjusting the bags in her hold, she moved out of the way and allowed him to have access to the door. It was his shop after all and honestly, she wanted to see what it looked like inside. “When did you get here? ‘Cause I still kind of feel like I ended up in a coma or something and this is just… my brain fu-- messing… with me. Except I’m aware of it and can’t get out.”
Aziraphale smiled when she agreed to help him, and stepped to the door. From his pockets he brought out a large keyring filled with a key to nearly every single lock he owned throughout the centuries. As one may imagine there was a lot, and it jingled loudly as he fiddled with finding the right one, dropped it on the floor, and picked it up to search again.
“A month? Maybe more. It’s hazy. I’m afraid I’m a slave to my routines, and I’ve been thrown off into quite a tizzy. Ah, here it is, the key!” An older one, made of iron. He fitted it into the keyhole and turned, successfully unlocking the door.
“I understand what you’re going through,” he replied, dolefully. “I really do.” Aziraphale really appreciated how she watched her language in front of him… showed she had respect and manners. “Nothing that a spot of tea wouldn’t fix!” His smile turned hopeful. “Then again, I may just be showing my British influence. You may place the groceries right there, thank you. Where are you from? Your accent sounds like your home is in the States.”
Wynonna’s eyes went a little wide when he dug out the key ring and confusion settled on her face once again. “What are you, the Gatekeeper? That’s quite the collection.” It was said kind of playfully but it added a level of mystery to this person and she still wasn’t sure she could trust him. Especially with how perfect and white his teeth were. Who has teeth that nice?
As they made their way inside, her eyes immediately scanned the bookstore and an awe sort of came over her as she walked, half-blindly, toward the direction he was moving. “Whoa…” she said, her voice hushed. It wasn’t until she nearly tripped over her own feet that she brought her attention back to what she was doing, setting the bags down where he’d said before loosely crossing her arms in front of her chest. Her nose scrunched up at the suggestion of tea and she shook her head, clearly not a fan of the idea.
“Eh, no thank you. The last time I had tea I was pre--” She cut herself off and pressed her lips together for a moment before continuing. “...not in a position to have caffeine, so. More of a coffee girl over here.” Clearing her throat, she offered him a quick smile before beginning to wander, slowly, looking at the multitude of books he had. And no clear reason as to why the shop was closed. “You’d be right about the States. I’m from out west in a teensy, tiny town called Purgatory. It’s an apt name, trust me.”
“Gatekeeper?” There was amusement ini Aziraphale’s voice. He didn’t know what ‘Gatekeeper’ meant to her, but he rather liked the title. “I suppose in a way I was. A long, long while ago. Angel of the Eastern Gate.” Since arriving here, he’d become more used to the idea that he didn’t necessarily need to hide his true identity, as was done at home. So what if he dropped a hint at his true identity? Gabriel, Michael, or any of the other Angels in his Heaven couldn’t touch him, not in Vallos. (At least that’s what he hoped, right? Of course it was right! He shouldn’t have to worry about this sort of thing any more!)
His cheerfulness faltered when she corrected herself,and he instinctively knew what she was going to say. So she’d been pregnant. Maybe the baby was conceived out of wedlock, maybe she miscarried, maybe she’d been separated from her child by being brought here… there was a number of reasons why she wouldn’t want to talk about it… and it wasn’t his place to query, nor judge. “Of course, of course. Coffee it is, then.”
And there it was, a cup of hot coffee, placed upon the nearest table within Wynonna’s reach, prepared exactly the way she preferred. A cup had also manifested in Aziraphale’s hands, cream and sugar, thank you, at the perfect temperature for sipping.
“In what way was the name apt, I wonder?” he asked, hoping she would clarify.
As soon as the word ‘angel’ came out of his mouth, Wynonna had to cough to cover the fact that she’d nearly choked on her own spit out of surprise. Well. That explained a lot about his appearance and demeanor, didn’t it? But before she’d even really had a chance to say much in response, there was suddenly a cup of coffee on a table next to her and one in his hands. She stared at him for a moment before looking over at the fresh cup for her, cautiously reaching over to take it. “Thanks…” she said, looking back at him before bringing it to her lips for a sip. Of course, it was perfect. Probably the best cup of coffee she’d ever had in her life and she nearly moaned with how good it tasted.
“Well, you know. It’s a place that gives you a sense of feeling stuck. Overrun with, uh,” she paused for a moment and looked at him again before continuing. “Revenants.” She went quiet for a moment and then looked back at the books near her, eyes scanning over the titles though she wasn’t really paying much attention to what they said. There was a lot going on in her head. Angel of the Eastern Gate. Gate to what? Heaven? Did he know a way into the Garden of Eden? She took another drink of her coffee. “My sister’s an angel,” she blurted out with no warning. “Well, half-angel.”
Did she need to go into much more detail? She turned and looked back over at him, brows furrowed slightly. God, the whole angel thing felt like such a long story. But if there was anyone who might get it, it would be this guy.
The moment Wynonna started coughing, Aziraphale looked over her with concern, but she recovered before he could ask Are you alright, or even to cause a miracle to help. “Please, take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the threadbare sofa with his hand, while he sat in his own comfy office chair at his desk.
“Revenants…” He turned the word in his mouth, but found the term unfamiliar. “Is that something like a demon?” Upon hearing about her sister, Aziraphale smiled. “Oh!” he responded happily, but then suddenly remembered how Nephilium were regarded by Heaven in his universe, and his smile faded. “Is that alright? Is she okay?”
She eyed the sofa briefly, hesitant almost to take him up on that offer, but decided ‘what the hell’ and carefully took a seat. Wynonna still wasn’t sure about him. Or this place. Though there was a sense of calm that seemed to radiate off of him in a way she hadn’t expected. “Mm. Yeah, Revenants are demons, or a type of demon,” she replied with a bit of a shrug.
The excitement in his tone over her admission regarding Waverly’s angelical status caught her off guard and she looked up at him, brows furrowed in concern. But he seemed to realize something was off. And for some reason Wynonna felt like she could trust him (was that the whole being an angel thing?). “Well,” she started, taking a sip of her coffee. This felt like a weird therapy session. “I’m fine with it, but I don’t know if she’s okay. I was looking for her when I wound up here because something from…”
Her words trailed off a little as she tried to piece together how to say this. “There’s a gateway of sorts to the Garden of Eden. A Garden of Eden? Where I’m from. And it took her. The Garden did. Or something in the Garden, anyway. So she got snatched by some Audrey II lookin’ viney mofo and I have no idea how to get to her now. Because apparently this place doesn’t like to let people leave of their own free will.”
Aziraphale took mental notes as he listened to Wynonna. He felt he was doing very well, making tabs about the differences found in other universes, particularly when it came to God, Angels and Demons. Crowley would be so proud he thought, however he remained staunchly fixed in the believe that his universe was the Original, and his God was the One Almighty, from which all others emanate. It was not his place to tell that to Wynonna, however, especially when she was revealing her past, one that sounded very difficult, indeed.
“Where I’m from, Nephilim were… not highly regarded….” His voice trailed guiltily, and he couldn’t maintain eye contact. “They were among the reasons why the Almighty sent the Deluge.” He paused, and looked at Wynonna. “Are you familiar with that at all? The Great Flood? The one with the…” he wiggled his fingers, “... rainbow at the end?” He wanted to focus on the rainbow instead of all the lives that had been drowned. Not a pretty thought, all those deaths, and didn’t reflect well on the Almighty, did it?
“The Garden…” he muttered the words. Where had his universe’s Eden gone? Not long after Adam and Eve were cast out, after his demotion, he never returned. It was something he actually hadn’t thought much about, but he supposed that the Almighty had it destroyed, or maybe withdrew it from the planet. Now that was a curious question, one which he had to pull himself away to return to their conversation.
“I… I don’t know what an Audrey Two is… but it sounds rather horrifying, your sister being taken. You believe she’s in danger? I assure you, there wasn’t any sort of plant fitting that description in my Eden! My poor dear, you must be worried sick for her.”
“The Nephiwhatnow?” That word seemed to go in one ear and out the other, but not before she caught enough of it to just be confused. Was that just another word for an angel? But she let it go and felt her nose crinkle a little. Yeah, she was familiar enough with the main stories from the Bible though it wasn’t as if she’d ever actually sat down with that book. “Yeah, the whole ark and it rained for like, two months or something, right?” She wasn’t sure what this had to do with anything, but she was willing to listen.
Wynonna breathed out another sigh and tried to focus on the coffee in her hand instead. It was weird talking about this, but he claimed to be an angel, right? He had to know something. Maybe. “I mean, I don’t think she’s sa-..” She cut herself off there and shook her head, taking another drink. “That’s not true. She’s as safe as she can be, but that could also just mean her and... the person who was able to go after her might just be in danger.”
“Honestly, I have no idea what this Eden actually looks like other than there’s a staircase in Purgatory, some big red doors, and a huge plant vine took her because she’s half-angel.” Wynonna groaned a little and threw her head back with a sigh. “So chances are real high that the Eden she’s in isn’t the same one you’re familiar with, huh? The name Bulshar doesn’t ring a bell or anything?”
“Ne..phi..lim…” Aziraphale repeated, slowly enunciating each syllable for Wynonna so she could learn. “It’s what your sister is, half angel, half human. And it was uh… thirty days and thirty nights. I know. I was there.” He flashed a wane smile that disappeared just as quickly.
“A staircase sounds awfully familiar - that was how I usually ascended into Heaven to make my reports. It was changed to an escalator after the humans invented them. I put in the request. Walking up that long flight was oh, so tiring, though my excuse to Michael was that it would save valuable time that could be used to foil my adversary.” The smile returned, genuine and warm, thinking about his so-called ‘adversary’. “A wily demon by the name of Crowley, expert in the art of temptation. He was responsible for the first one, you know? The very first temptation, in the Garden, with Eve and Adam.” His tone was not of an angel describing an ancient enemy, but of somebody in love.
“Ah, but I’m rambling. Please forgive me. Now that I’m safe, it’s rather nice to discuss these sorts of things openly. We should get back on the subject of your sister. Bulshar… Bulshar... no, I’m afraid there’s no angel that I know by that name. I wonder if Crowley would? A pity he’s not here.”
As she listened to him explain, it was dawning on Wynonna that his Garden - and likely his Heaven (whatever that was, she wasn’t keen to find out), angels, demons, etc - were not the same as hers. Which meant he likely would have no idea about another way in. She shook her head some and looked down at her coffee.
“In my… where I’m from… I don’t know a Crowley. Never heard of the guy. But Bulshar was no angel. Not by a long shot.” Her eyes went wide for a moment as she remembered the battle at the stairs; though it didn’t take long to defeat the little asshole once she had the chance, she’d still nearly died because of it. A hand sort of unconsciously lifted to her neck where she’d been bitten by him, over the wounds that had mostly healed by this point and were starting to scar over.
“So from what I experienced, Bulshar is the stupid snake demon thing from the Garden, at least in… my… Garden. God, that’s still so weird to process.” She paused for a moment and then continued. “Anyway, he got out, spent a lot of time on earth being a pain in everyone’s asses more or less, got defeated, got undefeated, blah blah. He’s the reason there was a curse on my family, I killed him, he’s gone. My life’s a hot mess, angel.”
“Crowley is my stupid snake demon thing from the Garden,” he said, smiling over the brim of his coffee cup with great amusement. Oh, how he missed him! Would Crowley find this conversation interesting? Or would it bore him to tears? It then occurred to him that he ought to stop daydreaming so he could return to his current role of Ministering Angel, helping Wynonna through her grief.
“I also find it very weird, my dear, but over time it does get a bit easier. I suppose after a while, we’ll get so accustomed to it that we won’t even give it a second thought.” He set down his coffee cup and asked, “If you don’t mind my asking, what was the curse? And was it broken after you... slew Bulshar?” He looked at her sympathetically. “A hot mess, maybe. And yet you survived. Not only in body, but in spirit. You still have enough kindness left in you to help a stranger bring in his groceries and sit with a cup of coffee with him. It looks like to me that you’ve passed the Test.”
He then craned his head with some concern to see where her hand had gone. “Is there something the matter with your neck?”
Wynonna chose not to remark on the look on the angel’s face or the tone in his voice when he mentioned Crowley. She could read him like a book (hah, appropriate since… bookshop…). She wasn’t sure how she felt about getting accustomed to it, the fact that most everyone here was from different worlds. Timelines. Though it allowed for new friends she’d never meet otherwise, right?
“Well. The curse was… basically something that was put on my great, great granddad. The oldest born, or eldest alive in some cases, was the ‘heir’ and basically destined for some God forsaken reason to kill a lot of demons. That used to be people and that were killed one way or another by said great, great granddad. But yes, it ended when Bulshar was killed.” She paused at his words, how she survived and had kindness in her and she ‘pfft’ed a little and rolled her eyes in an attempt to deflect, though a shine had come to them as she felt tears well up.
His question caught her off guard though and she blinked them back. “Huh? Oh, uh.” She hadn’t even realized she’d been sort of messing with the area, hidden under the collar of her shirt. It was easy enough to just say ‘Bulshar bit me when I stabbed him’ but instead she chose the quieter route and pulled the collar down enough to show him the injury. Two perfect puncture wounds, clearly done by fangs, scabbed over and starting to scar.
“A demon placed a curse that your family had to kill other demons?” Aziraphale asked for clarification, because that’s what it sounded like to him. “Or is it that by finally slaying Bulshar, that was the end goal, so to speak?” If it wasn’t a demon that did the curse, then who else? The Almighty? That sort of thing wasn’t usually considered a curse, per se. It was usually called ‘anointed’, It never really occurred to Aziraphale that a human chosen by the Almighty to perform a task might not want to. Instead of delving further, he awkwardly said, “Well, at least… it’s over and done with now.”
Seeing the wound made Aziraphale more worried. “Does it hurt? Is it infected?” He wanted to offer to heal it, but his past experience with Jon made him cautious about doing that.
“Something like that? It was kind of a sh--... disaster.” It didn’t feel right blatantly cursing in front of an angel that barely knew her, so she kept herself from saying ‘shit show’ even though that’s really how she felt. “He was a dick. Wanted back in the Garden. I don’t know what for, but that was his ultimate goal. Tried to convince me to go with him and I told him to shove it.” Well, those hadn’t been her exact words, but close enough. “But yeah, over and done with. Now I just need to figure out a way back to where I came from or a way into the Garden to get my sister before it makes her drink the Kool-Aid and I’ll be all set.”
Wynonna sighed quietly and then shook her head, dropping her hand back to her lap and looking down at her nails. The polish she had on was chipping. Great. “Weirdly, no. I was definitely well on my way to being poisoned by that green creep in a hurry though, but Doc…” Saved my life. She shrugged a little and looked back up at him, a sadness in her eyes. “Sorry. I’m rambling and taking up a lot of your time...”
While Aziraphale preferred not to use harsh language, he was accustomed to it as a matter of course, living among humans - he knew exactly what she wanted to say. Nevertheless, he appreciated Wynonna’s consideration. What would be in the Garden that a demon wanted to enter so badly? That was an interesting question, one that he would ponder over, long after Wynonna left.
Compassion flowed from Aziraphale as she narrated her own story. “Think nothing of it, my dear. I’m happy to do so, and I have all the time in the world. Helping is what angels are all about.” Not really, but Aziraphale had a pie-in-the-sky ideal of how angels were supposed to behave, which sometimes conflicted with his Heaven’s reality. “You’re more than welcome to linger here and browse the shelves for as long as you’d like. I ought to be putting my groceries away.”
She was never particularly good at thanking people, but she hoped she was able to convey how much she had appreciated his hospitality with the look on her face. She suspected most wouldn’t have given her the time of day, but he had been warm and she felt like she could trust him. Vulnerability was tough, but she was getting better at it. With a small nod and a quick wipe of her eyes (they’d been starting to get a little damp), she pulled the coffee to her chest and quietly stood. “I’ll be out of your hair soon, cross my heart.” There was a small smile then and she moved to make her way toward a wall of books, allowing herself just enough time to get her emotions in check before she’d head out with the hope of running into him again at some point. He was kind. She needed to be around kind more often.