| Building A Tradition... Or Trying To [tag: River Song] |
[11 Jan 2014|06:35pm] |
There was no pond. Truthfully, for Crowley, that had probably been the most disappointing part of this entire island exile. He and the angel had a tradition with ponds that involved bread and ducks. Hard to have a tradition when there were no ducks. Harder still to have ducks to feed bread to if there was no pond to lurk around and tempt the creatures to their doom. And then salvation.
( It was tradition. )
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| Whiskey, Whiskey on the Shelf [tag: Aziraphale] |
[11 Jan 2014|06:42pm] |
“She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean, she was the best damn woman that I ever seen.” The words were uttered semi-rhythmically, mostly mono-toned with a hint of a slur reminiscent of someone who had imbibed an alarming amount of amber colored alcohol. That didn't stop the giant, scruffy redhead from attempting to sing them as he shuffled down the sidewalk. It was still mid-afternoon, a touch early for most men to be at the level of intoxication Sweeney was already at, and yet there he was.
He didn't have any alcohol on him at the moment and had been hoping to find a bar or store down the ( road at which to feed his addiction. )
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