middaeg | (catch-all)(closed) the days don't stop coming

( thankfully, for everyone's sake, the tent doesn't feature any sort of religious decoration or symbols. it is, instead, littered with bright flowers and cheery heart decorations. it gives the whole place an air of. . . well, those famous little chapels out in las vegas where couples got married within minutes. or was it hours? either way, it was certainly a quick affair.

in and out.

for unions that were also famously short.

a part of him does wonder if this will be short-lived as well. )

It should, shouldn't it? As proof?

( it was just one of those things that he expected to be kept track of. surely, they kept track of civil unions, so bondings must also be. otherwise it would be something of a massive oversight, wouldn't it? )

I imagine it's important after all that talk about how destructive it is not to have a bond.

( and for cases of emergency, he imagines.

but there's another thought. )

Do you think they do arranged bonding? Setting up two people for their own good or the like?

Arranged bonding?

[ Repeated carefully, as if Crowley is weighing up the concept even as he takes in the flowers and gentle décor. ]

Suppose they might. Seems like a convenience thing for some, right? Mutually beneficial situation. Seen lots of folk using the little watches to ask about bonds, or how they find someone to bond with. Or find their friends someone. You know, set them up. Suppose that's nearly an arranged thing.

[ Just less officially so when it's your friend trying to hook you up, not like a professional going through a list of preferences or anything. ]

( admittedly, he was thinking more along like the lines of a service or perhaps arranged by the individual's family. however, he does think that the whole concept of using the watch for something of that nature to be a little bit ingenious.

people always make due, don't they! )

Do they? I don't glance at the watch much. I do like the idea of it, but it's just a bit—

( pausing as he glances at a painting that looks very much like a traditional wedding and not a "bonding ceremony". was that what it was supposed to look like? he can feel anxiety rising back up within him. his hands feel shaky, but he looks back to crowley. )

Ah, you know, I did briefly consider. . . Well, making a request on there for myself. Something like a personal ad you'd see in the paper.

( he's not sure why he's saying that. probably shouldn't. )

But I do think this was quite the adequate solution.

[ Crowley stares at Aziraphale, absorbing this sentence. ]

Adequate?

[ Aziraphale really has a way with words. ]

Oh, don't go too overboard.

[ Really laying out the compliments, making a demon feel wanted.

Adequate. ]

Edited (punctuation ) 2020-12-04 00:51 (UTC)

( perhaps that wasn't the best way to say that. he should probably use some stronger words than that since they were out here for the sake of getting bonded together even if it were only going to be a temporary thing.

well, he had said that earlier, but he doesn't imagine that either of them actually would go back on it once they had completed the ceremony. )

Well—

( he starts, tugging at the cuff of a sleeve. )

No, no, it's nice. I mean, I'm relieved that it's you. We make a jolly good team and all that!

( that's probably a bit too much. )

Oh you're relieved are you?

[ Alright, this is overall better than adequate but still. He's reeling from that one. Adequate! ]

You're lucky we're already in the tent.

[ A mild enough threat, which he doesn't particularly mean. Honestly, though! ]

( while he knows that he is on the losing end of this conversation, that does nothing to dissuade him from wanting to fight against it. he makes a frustrated face over at crowley, puffing up and ready to go on the defensive in some attempt to recover his misstep. )

No, listen here—

( he starts, flipping his palm through the air as if that might display his displeasure. aziraphale doesn't manage to actually present any argument however before one of the attendants pushes open the curtains to greet them. with a glance at the clipboard in her hand, she turns to them and asks if they were ready to continue forward.

the question feels a bit like a shock. he had been thinking that he would have a little more time, that the both of them would wait for much longer than this before they were prepared to usher them into the next stage. suddenly, this seems a little too fast. he hasn't seen anyone else around, but surely there is someone else waiting? surely, there are other couples seeking to get bonded right now and in this particular tent?

no?

he smiles, awkward and nervous. )

Yes, of course.

( then he reaches for crowley's hand in a slightly challenging manner. to show him that it was fine! that he was indeed a perfectly acceptable partner! )

[ Crowley isn't sure he's been threatened with handholding before, but there's a first time for everything. He takes Aziraphale's hand warily, flashes him a too-wide smile then turns to the attendant. ]

Of course.

[ Fine, everything's fine. He grips Aziraphale's hand slightly too tightly, and then paces through to the next area as they're waved in. There's another witch sorting through some paperwork. The space feels... small, private, and Crowley feels himself clocking that the only exit is back the way they came.

Should someone want to run away.

Which, clearly, he doesn't. ]

Ready to bond?

[ Muttered under his breath, somewhat accusingly. ]

( this is happening.

this is happening right now, on this day, and at this time and it is already far too late to back out. although, a quiet part of his mind does wonder if that is actually true and if he could actually raise a fuss and simply walk out if he so chooses. he would think so, after all, since the whole thing is optional. it's just that he has no intention of doing so.

absolutely not.

he's already signed the forms, he's already holding crowley's hand just as tightly as it is being held, and already being led into a very intimate area of the tent. it's dimmer than where they were waiting, lit up entirely by rows of candles, and decorated with an overabundance of flowers. they litter the walls, the ground, and nearly every available surface.

it almost makes the witch waiting within feel out of place in her heavy robe as she nonchalantly continues to work.

or maybe it was just aziraphale who felt like he couldn't breathe in here. )

I am perfectly ready. Positively ecstatic!

( he forces out, voice sounding a little too shrill, as he makes an incomprehensible motion with his free hand to show just how sure he is. it's doubtful that it actually comes off that way.

in the background, the witch who had guided them there approaches the other to show her the clipboard, tapping at a spot on the clipped paper. )

Are you?

[ This is going well. Crowley feels on edge, but Aziraphale is starting to sound on the edge of hysteria.

The flowers are a bit much, admittedly, and the candles feel like they're tempting fate. Are tents flammable? ]

Err, yeah, ready. Obviously. Completely ready. We, uh, signing more things then or --

[ Oh, right, the... vows bit. Crowley leans forward to peer at the clipboard, face scrunching as he reads.

Vows. Right. Great. Who isn't a big fan of vows? ]

( the topmost paper on the clipboard appears to be a certificate, which was already signed by the first attendant. the only thing it was missing was a second signature by the witch who was going to perform the rites of bonding for the both of them. she takes the clipboard from the first attendant and sets it down on the table.

she takes the moment to explain that there isn't a need to sign anything else, that both herself and the other attendant were going to perform the ritual, and then they would get a certificate of the bond once it was done.

then she leads crowley and aziraphale towards the middle of the area within the circle drawn on the ground. )

That's all?

( for some reason, aziraphale had thought it would be a bit more complicated than that. or perhaps more magical? this felt more or less fairly normal in terms of a ceremony at least.

"that's all," the attendant answers before instructing the both of them to clasp hands and lift them partially upward so they might loosely wrap a red ribbon around both sets of their joined hands.

"are you ready to begin?" )

Yes.

( an immediate answer. )

[ Oh, they're starting.

Crowley robotically moves into place, lifts his hands as instructed. He remembers ceremonies like this! Hasn't seen one in a while. Suppose it makes sense that they do it like this. Doesn't make him feel any more steady about it, though.

The witch begins to unravel the red ribbon, approaching.

Know now, before you go further, that when your paths crossed in this life you have formed ties between one another. As you seek to enter this bond you should strive to uphold the ideals which give meaning to both this ceremony and the union between a witch and their bonded. The promises you make today and the ties that are bound here strengthen your union; they will cross the years and lives of each soul's growth.

Do you still seek to enter this ceremony?

Crowley wets his lips nervously, and wonders just how many times he's going to have to agree to things in the duration of all this. ]

Yeah, yeah of course.

[ He glances from the witch to Aziraphale, hoping that he hasn't managed to change his mind yet. ]

( for better or worse, aziraphale has not yet changed his mind about moving forward with the ceremony. rather than that, he seems to find himself a little more firmly rooted into the idea every time that someone—whether it is an attendant or crowley himself—deigns to question it. it only makes him want to dig his heels in because yes, he is sure. he wants to proceed, he wants to move forward, he wants this.

he wants crowley— )

Yes, I do.

( —as his bonded.

he curls his fingers inward, the grip of them tight, as he watches one of the witches carefully begin to wrap the ribbon around their hands. he takes some solace in the gentle and patient expression on her face.

but he can't help but watch her intently, watch the ribbon move between her fingers.

the sound of his heart beat in his chest seems to be suddenly too loud. )

[ Crowley looks down at the fingers gripping his, watching the ribbon being wound around their hands, and tries to quiet the spike of panic. The urge to suddenly have somewhere to be, to bolt out the door, to put the whole thing off.

Aziraphale would, probably, forgive him eventually -- but not for a long while.

The witch is still talking.

'Since the first bond struck, countless ceremonies have been completed. With each bond created we hope for a warm home to always return to, a light in the darkest of nights, a clear and hopeful mind, a commitment as strong and deep as the ocean and stability in even the most troubling of times.

Remember you must work together in order to create what you seek in this union. Repeat after me --'

His eyes snap back up to the witch, suddenly aware that more than just staring at the ribbon might be required, and he finds her staring at him. Right, right, repeating things. He nods quickly, feeling a little like a wild animal trapped in headlights, and gently swipes his thumb across the side of Aziraphale's hand, not sure who he's trying to soothe.

'I may cause you pain, she says, 'but that is not my intention. I will try to share your pain and ease it when I can.'

Bit on the nose, Crowley thinks. Then again, would anything he'd written have been any better? Probably not. His hand squirms a little restlessly in Aziraphale's. ]

Err.

[ He manages, glancing between the witch and Aziraphale. She's waiting for him. Right. Just got to repeat it. Ignore the feeling a little bit like he's dying inside from all this focused attention suddenly on him ineptly failing to repeat something. Good job, Crowley, probably should have read up on this a bit more shouldn't you? Now, here you are, squirming your way through something you suggested you could take part in. Brilliant work. He flits his eyes back to Aziraphale, tries to force himself calm. Like he's just busily reporting on a temptation he never did. ]

I... might cause you pain, but it's not my intention. I will try to share your pain, and ease it when I can.

[ There. Good. Great. Are they done? She turns and gestures to Aziraphale, and Crowley wonders exactly how long this is going to take. He feels like he might have been here an eternity already. ]

Edited (punctuation) 2020-12-23 14:45 (UTC)

( the pounding of his heart in his chest feels so loud, must be so loud, that aziraphale cannot help but worry that both the witch and crowley can hear the deafening sound of it. that they can hear all of his nervousness, his anxiety, and the weird excited elation that seems to be bubbling within him.

he feels a little manic.

is it normal to feel this way? he wonders, he wonders. it's just that it's a little difficult to hear talk of meaningful deep connections and finding home in another person and know it is being said in relation to crowley . . . because he knows that he wants it. he wants all of those things to the point of aching and he feels it so strongly in this moment that it's overwhelming. it's a little cruel as well because this feels like something, but not enough of that same something.

close, but still so far.

he lets out a shaky breath, trying not to read into the way that crowley still struggles beside him. this was his idea, his suggestion, and aziraphale was going to get the familiars if not for him, and now this is happening—

the thought is broken by the attendant turning her attention onto him, looking at him expectantly. it's only by some miracle that he had been still listening well enough to know what is being asked of him. )

I may cause you pain, Crowley, but that is not my intention. I will try to share your pain and ease it when I can.

( aziraphale repeats, surprisingly steady sounding. almost a little determined even. )

[ This is --

This is a lot. Crowley feels the intense desire to shrivel up and shrink into the ground under Aziraphale's expectant scrutiny, under the steady gaze of the witch.

Somehow, he manages to stay put. Years of bluffing through his temptations put to good use, he supposes, he's able to stick it out and keep his cool.

Well, maybe not keep his cool, he's pretty sure every muscle in his body is tense but -- he's making an effort. Trying counts.

She carries on, a relentless torture of things for them to recite. It's all soft, sappy things -- four letter words all over. If anyone heard them, he'd be in so much trouble. More than trouble. He'd be finished.

I will share your laughter, look for all the brightness and joy in our lives.
I may burden you, but that is not my intention. I will seek to share your burdens, and grow with you.
I will share your dreams, dream together with you to create new hopes.
I may cause you anger, it is not my intention. The heat of our anger will temper and give strength to our bond.
I will honour you, never give you cause to break that honour.

Crowley thinks his hands are clammy. She finishes twining the cord around their hands, offers them what he suspects is meant to be an encouraging smile.

The bond is not formed by this knot, but by your vows. You hold in your hands and hearts the making and breaking of this union. Just as your hands are now bound together, so too are your lives. May you be forever one, sharing in all things for all time to come.

She steps back, spreads her hands and smiles brighter. Crowley glances sideways at Aziraphale, hand squirming nervously. ]

Errr.

[ Is about all he manages. Nnngh. Wasn't he good with words, once? When did that stop being a thing? The witch takes pity on them, gestures behind her to the witness who glances up at her friend, a questioning sort of glance Crowley suspects means get a load of these idiots before beginning to check over that the certificate is fully completed in all sections. She moves it across the table and watches her co-worker cross back over to double-check it then sign the other section. ]

Right. Guess that's done, then.

[ His voice is doing something funny, coming out sort of weak. Crowley isn't sure why, but the tent suddenly feels terribly claustrophobic. His thumb rubs anxiously at Aziraphale's hand. ]

( listening to the vows being spoken by the attending witch and then repeated by crowley and himself, aziraphale realises with remarkable clarity that he could never do this with anyone else. it had been a nice thought for a while, a desperate bid to keep a certain divide between them, but now that he is here and now that he is making vows—

well, he'd like to think that he would keep to them. there's a certain power to the spoken word and it's particularly true for words like this, which were unmistakably more like proper wedding vows rather than what he had expected of a bonding ceremony. he almost wonders if they had gotten them mixed up, if they're having them do the completely wrong set of vows. not that it would matter now since it's far too late to do anything about it, but still he wonders.

his expression softens as they continue to speak and he thinks his eyes feel a bit wet.

the bond is not formed by this knot, but by your vows. you hold in your hands and hearts the making and breaking of this union. just as your hands are now bound together, so too are your lives. may you be forever one, sharing in all things for all time to come.

ah.

he finds himself clutching at crowley's hands, grip overly tight but unsteady, and he knows his eyes are wet. for a flicker of a moment, he has a hysterical thought about kissing before banishing it from his mind. he just feels like he should be doing something else, as if there were one last step to take before finalising this. )

That . . . That was nice.

( he says, lamely, but he barely knows what to say. every thought that forms in his head isn't appropriate, nothing to be spoken aloud. this is a bonding ceremony, just a bonding ceremony, he shouldn't start spouting off at the mouth.

but he won't forget how he feels in this moment or the way crowley looks in the candlelight.

inexplicably, he adds: )

Thank you.

[ It was nice, but it's very dangerously close to becoming all too much.

About a hairs breath away.

Crowley's eyes flit restlessly between Aziraphale's face, their hands bound together and the witches as they begin to pull together the paperwork. They're saying something, distantly he realises, but he's not really processing it. ]

Yeah, 'course.

[ He thinks Aziraphale said something too, so hopefully just straight up agreeing covers everything. His fingers flex around Aziraphale's, nervous, then his free hand shoots out to take something the witch is offering them. She's saying congratulations again, he thinks, and he makes a vague sound of acceptance before lifting his eyes to Aziraphale. ]

Right. Drink?

[ Drink seems a good idea. Yes? Good. ]

( that seems to be it.

aziraphale thought that he might feel different after everything was all said and done, but he doesn't. not in this particular moment at least. he just feels like a whole bundle of anxious nerves (still) and dangerously on the edge of saying something that he knows that he shouldn't. it's on the tip of his tongue, right there and ready, but thankfully crowley seems to have mentally checked out of the situation.

it helps stay his desire to make a mistake.

crowley barely answers as the witches continue to talk to him, just as he had barely answered aziraphale. he lets out a quiet sigh, but recognises that it is for the best. better this way, better for crowley to already be done with it. )

Yes, let's.

( an easy thing to agree to as the attendant offers him his own copy of the paperwork.

there was nothing left to do but to celebrate. )

(catch-all)(closed) the days don't stop coming

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