The angel snorted, waking up with a start. It was cold where he was, surrounded by books, and far too quiet. He had been in the library, fast asleep after taking his tea. The last thing he could remember was laughter and barking somewhere outside on the grounds, perhaps late afternoon.
It was after sunset now, some time after, he realized, looking out at the window. And it was far, far too quiet.
The angel stood, stretched a little, and tucked away all the books on shelves, leaving a small pile of decent ones out in a stack. A manicured hand rubbed his eyes, clearing it of the last vestiges of sleep.
The silence was unnerving.
He left, when the room was tidied, embarrassed to have napped for so long. It was likely he'd even missed supper. Aziraphale went to their room first, finding no Crowley and no note. Odd, but perhaps he was downstairs.
He went down to the lobby, still bothered by the silence of the Manor. Something was happening. He saw the front doors and listened, and finally heard the sounds of... his eyes lighted on a flyer at just that point in time, and the angel blinked. "A festival?" he asked himself silently.
Music was filtering through the doors, louder when he went outside to go look. It was late evening, very dark, but he could smell a fire and see the flickering light not so very far off.
Smiling to himself, thinking he was silly for worrying, the angel crept forward, hidden by darkness and various greenery, for a better look.
It was then that he realized that the flickering light was caused by dancing humans. Ellie was unmistakeable, but the rest of the faces were dark and shifting, shadows. He tried to climb a tree for a better look - still a distance off, you understand, and the last thing he wanted was to be pulled in to.
(The only dance he knew with any style was the gavotte, thank you.)
The angel got up into the tree with little problem, bits of leaves and twigs sticking in his mussed blond hair. He still couldn't see, however, so he made his way along a branch, almost above the dancers.
Aziraphale suddenly made out Crowley's face below him, as one of the mesmerizing dancers, and gasped with shock, and the branch broke. He fell.
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The angel snorted, waking up with a start. It was cold where he was, surrounded by books, and far too quiet. He had been in the library, fast asleep after taking his tea. The last thing he could remember was laughter and barking somewhere outside on the grounds, perhaps late afternoon.
It was after sunset now, some time after, he realized, looking out at the window. And it was far, far too quiet.
The angel stood, stretched a little, and tucked away all the books on shelves, leaving a small pile of decent ones out in a stack. A manicured hand rubbed his eyes, clearing it of the last vestiges of sleep.
The silence was unnerving.
He left, when the room was tidied, embarrassed to have napped for so long. It was likely he'd even missed supper. Aziraphale went to their room first, finding no Crowley and no note. Odd, but perhaps he was downstairs.
He went down to the lobby, still bothered by the silence of the Manor. Something was happening. He saw the front doors and listened, and finally heard the sounds of... his eyes lighted on a flyer at just that point in time, and the angel blinked. "A festival?" he asked himself silently.
Music was filtering through the doors, louder when he went outside to go look. It was late evening, very dark, but he could smell a fire and see the flickering light not so very far off.
Smiling to himself, thinking he was silly for worrying, the angel crept forward, hidden by darkness and various greenery, for a better look.
It was then that he realized that the flickering light was caused by dancing humans. Ellie was unmistakeable, but the rest of the faces were dark and shifting, shadows. He tried to climb a tree for a better look - still a distance off, you understand, and the last thing he wanted was to be pulled in to.
(The only dance he knew with any style was the gavotte, thank you.)
The angel got up into the tree with little problem, bits of leaves and twigs sticking in his mussed blond hair. He still couldn't see, however, so he made his way along a branch, almost above the dancers.
Aziraphale suddenly made out Crowley's face below him, as one of the mesmerizing dancers, and gasped with shock, and the branch broke. He fell.