“Crowley,” Aziraphale said one day in the cottage, “I do think that you weren’t completely correct.”
“About?” Crowley was used to Aziraphale calling him out for being wrong, whether he was wrong or not. He was unaffected by the claim.
“Being Godfathers. I don’t think really really made it that closely with Warlock, as wonderful as it was to be with him through his first years.” Continue reading “Godfathers”
He would probably whine about this soon. This was the third time she had taken chocolates away from him. The last time she had to eat it all herself to keep him from it. It was disgusting, but throwing it out had not been an option. For some reason she could not make herself waste it all.
Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered. She had accomplished what she had wanted and had been left with her final promise: killing Emil. He had apparently volunteered to die through the slow process of old age. Or chocolate poisoning. Whichever came first.
“Experiences are what you get when you don’t get what you want,” he reminded her. He had said that before, once. Coleen was certain he quoted someone else, but had never bothered to find out.
Experiences. Things she could never have now or things that she could have now that she had nothing more to give to the world.
“We could get married,” she found herself suggesting. A homemaker for Emil while he found a way to adapt to a mortal life. It would not last forever. She could take care of him for that long. He had claimed them to be engaged at one point (a ploy, but still).
“I can’t get married to the former king,” Emil flat-out refused.
“Of course.” It had been silly of her to suggest it, but now Emil looked thoughtful. Perhaps because he realized he could make that connection now. Make a connection and see it through to his end.
So this is the simple life.
When Pranav looked back on it, he decided it could have gone a lot smoother.
“Well duh,” his best friend said. “Smoother? We have two bodies in the trunk. Two. That’s twice as many as I agreed to help out with.”
“Buck,” he said, slowing down when the speed limit decreased, “how long have we known each other?”
“Since I died of cancer at the old age of seventy nine.”
Buck was nineteen. A full half as old as Pranav. Yet he would say things like this. Much like he would lord over Pranav that he would live a year longer than him. Scratch that- lived. Buck always spoke of Pranav’s respiratory disease in past tense. The one he didn’t have at forty. Yet he was complaining about the two bodies in the trunk.
“Well, if you don’t want that to be the case, I could always drive three bodies to the docks instead.”
Buck was unaffected by the threat, but Pranav couldn’t make himself mean it. He hadn’t wanted to have the first two.
Two more hours to drive, the stench was going to be awful.
He tripped somewhere near the top step. With a sound which came out like a yowl, he barrelled forward into the door. Instead of smoothly opening it or the like, instead he bashed his head into it. He took a few steps back, shaking his head. No one saw it, it was fine. Just a reminder.
“Is this the way out?” he called back behind him.
The emptiness behind him said nothing. Yet he felt the void in front of him, not from the nothing from behind. Behind was comfort, behind was where he came from. Sent forward for…
The void was ahead, clawing out everything he had been told.
“This is the way out.” He said it aloud to reaffirm himself. As if to agree, the door opened. He walked forward where the future waited.
Then the door shut behind him.
Saoirse had a lot to prove.
She looked up at Toiréasa’s home at the top of the creag and knew how long it would take her to make it to that household. She could see the disapproval of Toiréasa’s father, even without seeing him. A hand clapped down on her shoulder. She didn’t jump, because she’d known her cousin was behind her.
Saoirse turned away from the view. “Aye.”
Toiréasa was beautiful in a way no one else in the village could compare with. She was also heir to the strongest swordsman and learning his ways. Ways he would teach many, but not Saoirse. If she was going to get his permission, it would be on her own merits. She was already the best in her family. Her cousin didn’t want to go hunting without her. They would be the one sharing a meal, instead of those who were forced to ask for help as the weather changed drastically around them.
They left the village, out into the new snow. Saoirse brought her scarf over her mouth and nose.