The Universe's Mixer

There were things that were extremely important to Aziraphale. Saving souls had been the highest point on the list until Armageddon had loomed. Stopping the Antichrist from destroying the world had then taken precedence.

Just below those two ethereal priorities, were his books.

His bookstore had always been a front. It wasn't so much a place to sell books as a place to keep them. His collection held only first editions, and rare books that were not only out of print, but that few, if any, knew had ever been printed in the first place. One of the greatest challenges of his long life was to avoid selling them. There was the necessity of money, and occasionally he had been forced to part with a dear friend or two in order to live comfortably, but somehow or another he always managed to get them back. And when other collectors contacted him regarding a specific volume, Aziraphale always convinced them it was in their best interest not to pursue the search any longer.

For an angel, he could be very persuasive in ways that were far more Crowley's style.

( When the storm hit... )

There is an invitation. The envelope it's in is made of a very thick, almost cardboard. Decorated with a design that looks like a mixture of feathers and flames. There is a seal on it, deep red wax, in the center, just a swirl. The paper is thinner, but no less well made. It's almost like touching cloth. The words upon it are done in a very beautiful script:

You are hereby invited to take part in a meeting in which you should discover very great things about what is around you.

Even if you choose to not accept this invitation, your daily movement around the City brings you to a building. There is only one door. The door is a very heavy, dark wood. It looks as if it might take a giant to open it, but it pulls free easily for you. When it shuts, it sounds almost as if a latch has clicked into place.

The room you are standing in is an odd shape. Triangular. The widest part is where the door is set in, and the other two walls meet opposite it to make the point. There is nothing in this room. No chairs, no table. No mirrors. No sign that anybody else will be able to get in here with you at all.

You will wait a while. When the last participant shows up, the walls in the center of the room will raise into the ceiling. From the floor will come a great table, laden with food and drink. Chairs will scoot out from where they were tucked away under it.

There are other people in this room with you.

( Read more... )

Crowley tossed a handful of bread piece into the pond at the park. After having gone through this routine numerous times with the demon, the ducks were a touch wary of the food given to them. They wanted the bread pieces but at the same time they wanted to live and going after the bread ran the risk of finding themselves submerged and unable to return to the surface. He smiled, briefly, at their reluctance. Whoever said waterfowl were stupid creatures, were daft themselves. The ducks had learned a fear of the demon and what he provided, as was just as well –he had been considering killing one or two of them out of boredom.

( Though, how he could be bored in a city that provided him the opportunity to find things of interest to do, was anyone’s guess. )

Aziraphale might consider Crowley something of a friend, but that didn't mean he trusted the old demon. He knew the serpent well enough, he supposed, to still question anything he said, even after that whole affair with young Adam. So the first thing he'd done when Crowley left was attempt to contact Up There. He'd taken every precaution, not wishing a repeat of the last time. It was enough to be in a strange place, and he had no intention of ending up bodiless as well. The doors were well bolted, and blocked by bookcases for good measure, but he might as well not have bothered. Despite all his pal's warnings, he'd been shocked and disappointed.

( Silence )

Aziraphale was getting frustrated as the computer beeped at him again.

He was attempting to set up his own website for rare book collectors. He had named it "Bibliophile Heaven." He found this amusing and clever in its inclusion of the twist of words. It hadn't really occurred to him that no one else would get it, or that it really wasn't all that clever to begin with. Aziraphale had his own sense of humor.

( It was the coding that was giving him trouble. )