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Dec. 19th, 2005 04:22 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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neutral_omensDate: November 5, 1999
Setting: Tadfield Manor, Dining Hall
Status: Private - Belial, Aziraphale (Complete)
Summary: Belial is de-moped.
Belial gazed into a pit of strawberry swirls, littered with the remains of frozen shortcake chunks. The spoon sat in the half-empty vat, crumbs clinging, looking so much like a ladder into desperation.
He had to stop this--he was starting to draw extensive metaphors of Hell using a half gallon of strawberry shortcake ice cream, and the rim of his mouth was a sticky, pink mess. At least his hair was clean, he thought, plucking absently at a few damp, straying locks. He had too much time to bother with such things, which led to him not bothering with them at all. A snap of his fingers and he could fix himself. But it was too easy a solution and he didn't want things to be easy.
Sighing, he kicked one leg back and hooked it over one of the bars supporting the stool, tethering himself to his seat. Bloody angels, bloody Gabriel.
He'd Damn love, but had already found a hold in Hell through him.
Setting: Tadfield Manor, Dining Hall
Status: Private - Belial, Aziraphale (Complete)
Summary: Belial is de-moped.
Belial gazed into a pit of strawberry swirls, littered with the remains of frozen shortcake chunks. The spoon sat in the half-empty vat, crumbs clinging, looking so much like a ladder into desperation.
He had to stop this--he was starting to draw extensive metaphors of Hell using a half gallon of strawberry shortcake ice cream, and the rim of his mouth was a sticky, pink mess. At least his hair was clean, he thought, plucking absently at a few damp, straying locks. He had too much time to bother with such things, which led to him not bothering with them at all. A snap of his fingers and he could fix himself. But it was too easy a solution and he didn't want things to be easy.
Sighing, he kicked one leg back and hooked it over one of the bars supporting the stool, tethering himself to his seat. Bloody angels, bloody Gabriel.
He'd Damn love, but had already found a hold in Hell through him.
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