(catch-all) (open & closed) smile through the discontent

[benedicus]

Who: Aziraphale & Others (OTA - with some closed prompts)
When: Various points of Mareuer
Where: Across Aefenglom
What: Catch-all
Warnings: Language and some drugged alcohol

i. in most cases, sugar solves the problem. (OTA)

Everyone, as far as Aziraphale has seen, has been desperately trying to pretend as if things were back to normal. As if something terrifying and nightmarish hadn't just recently occurred, but Aziraphale doesn't intend to pry too much into it. Rather, he is grateful for the little things. Or, perhaps, they're big things depending on how one might look at it.

That is, the relative safety of those he cares about.

His co-worker has even already returned back to work, which displays a remarkable amount of resolve on her part. She's quite listless and out of it, which is understandable and he knows it'll get better in time. Eventually. He's seen the same look on several of the customers who have come by the bakery as well, each one looking thoroughly worn out.

"Here," he says, looking over at the current exhausted individual lingering by the counter. Aziraphale extends out a square slice of lemon-frosted pound cake that's been neatly wrapped up in a cloth napkin, sliding it over across the counter.

"You look as if you could use something sweet to nibble on right now."

Then, he smiles.

ii. no greater enemy than the whims of others. (OTA)

More than occasionally, Aziraphale gets the impression that many of the unique quirks of this city were designed entirely to vex him. It feels as if it were almost too much to ask for him to be able have a peaceful and quiet day without some strange incident.

Today, one of those such incidents takes the form of some curiously small fae who had been upsettingly successful at pickpocketing him. The little thing had yanked his watch right out of his pocket and then nosedived itself into a mound of dirt just by the pathway that lead up to his home.

Despite himself, Aziraphale had leapt after it much like any cat wound and dug his hands into the ground in hopes of retrieving the little thief. He has already made two solid holes during his search effort.

"I assure you, I am not angry. I am not angry with you at all," Aziraphale mutters in a terse tone that makes it undoubtedly clear that he is not being entirely truthful. He might not be angry, but he is definitely upset.

"But, you see, I do—" he begins, slamming his hand down at the first sign of movement against the grass. "—really need that back!"

iii. an angel and a demon walk into a bar. (Crowley; A Study in Bars Left)

When Crowley suggests, in that easy way that he always does, that the two of them go out drinking after a particularly mediocre dinner, Aziraphale cannot imagine declining. Not only was it one of the best ideas he had heard in quite some time, it was also something he felt that they both sorely needed. The recent days had been so stressful and so eventful that he truly did believe that the both of them needed to spend an evening doing something fun.

Although, a part of him does wonder if it would be considered a date? What exactly defined something as a date as opposed to one of their regular outings out together?

The bar they end up at is nice enough, but in a way that implies that the owners of the establishment had spent more time on the menu and drink quality than the decoration of the space. It isn't entirely to Aziraphale's preference, but Crowley seems to like it somewhat if his expression is any indication. He assumes that to be because of its similarities to a dive bar.

"Have you given any thought to the idea of starting your own business?" Aziraphale asks after they settle in at a table and have their respective orders taken.

iv. little rips in the timeline. (Geralt)

Among the handful of letters that Aziraphale sends out to inquire after the wellbeing of some individuals he had not otherwise seen, there is one addressed to Geralt of Rivia. Each letter has been impeccably penned and closed with a wax seal and the one sent to Geralt is no exception. It actually might be a little more eye-catching than the others with the intention of trying to make sure that his envelope isn't accidentally looked over.

Within the letter, he asks after his health as well as Jaskier's—despite not having met him yet because Aziraphale is nothing if not polite—and invites Geralt out for a nice lunch and a brief walkabout at his earliest convenience that day. It is short notice, he is well aware, but Aziraphale thinks that it could serve as a temporary but decent distraction. A little bit of fresh air and walking always did wonders for the heart and soul.

Although, a part of him does believe that he had been a bit too brash in his correspondence and that might not encourage Geralt to come meet with him. Nonetheless, he still waits for him on a bench in Haven, exactly where he promised that he would be.

v. roll the dice (Wildcard)

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Comments

> A Study in Bars Left

[sparkofgoodness]

Crowley loves a good dive bar -- questionable aesthetic, naturally, questionable cleanliness but always great strong drinks and brilliant gossip. He's hoping this place will be the same way, because nosiness is his best quality after all.

Slumped into the seat in the corner Crowley manages an artful sprawl that looks as if it should be uncomfortable, yet somehow appears not to be.

Business.

In truth, he has thought about it repeatedly. He's quite enjoying the freelance life -- consultancy work, mostly a cover for extreme nosiness -- but he knows it may well eventually run dry. The problem is, setting up a formal business is so...

It's committing to consistency, which Crowley isn't good at, but it's also committing to staying here long term, which Crowley isn't keen on.

"Would need to find a niche, I suppose," he says. He knows he should do something, because a regular steady income would be more practical, but the thought makes him writhe in his skin. Face scrunching, he darts his eyes about the bar. Would a bar be a good idea? His own bar, best way to get all the gossip. Strip bar! Aziraphale would hate a strip bar. Jazz bar? That has potential, maybe. Even better, could get someone else to run it once it's established. Maybe he's only thinking about bars since he's in one, but if Aziraphale presses him to voice ideas at least he can present that as an option.

[benedicus]

As far as income is concerned, the bulk of what meagre earnings—and it truly did feel meagre—Aziraphale has to his name has come from working part-time in one of the bakeries. It's a reliable source of income, never too hectic, and affords him with the opportunities to better himself at being comfortable in a kitchen, but it has also been months. He did not want to attempt to keep their wallets lined through regular questing, as they called it, but he didn't necessarily like the restraints of operating a shop as per someone else's wishes either.

A business would be a great idea. More so if he could get it staffed and operating well enough to not require his constant presence.

"Yes," Aziraphale begins, rubbing a finger over one of the squishy finger pads on his opposite hand. "I have thought about that a great deal."

He pauses.

"What if we opened our own record shop? One with the ability to record new music?"

It isn't a terrible idea, he thinks. He has met a couple of people who used to make their living in entertainment and it might be a nice way to revive some more pieces of people's homes. Not to mention, he wouldn't have a hard time parting with anything in the shop.

[sparkofgoodness]

A record shop? That is interesting! Though the follow-up makes his brow furrow again thoughtfully.

"How much do you know about recording music, then?"

Professionally, that is. If they're going to make a record shop that can also record new music that seems... ambitious? Ambitious is the correct word.

Difficult, alternatively. Expensive.

Crowley can only assume that Aziraphale is hoping to inspire more music to his taste this way, but it seems the sort of thing that might well... potentially backfire. His skull face paint friend being one such potential example (though if he'd record without his bandmates around is in question).

If it's just music he wants, though, perhaps the jazz bar idea might be worth a shot? Live music, after all, just not... recorded live music.

[benedicus]

Excellent question! Exactly what needed to be asked for a venture like this. It would look particularly foolish if Aziraphale was going to jump in with no particular plan in place. Thankfully, this is something that he has already given a degree of thought to.

"I am not very familiar with it," Aziraphale answers with a strong degree of confidence. "However, I do know someone in particular that is."

Undoubtedly, he would be more than delighted to help out if this were the route the two of them were going to take.

"I thought something involving music might be enjoyable for the both of us."

[sparkofgoodness]

Someone in particular who is... familiar with it?

Huh. He didn't expect that! Who, he wonders? What sort of music did they record?

Would be funny if it was Styx. He'd have liked to witness that interaction, honestly, and be disappointed if he missed it.

"Yeah," he says after a second, "was thinking the same thing, honestly, only I was leaning more the jazz bar route instead of record shop. You know. Some good drinks, good music, must be a universal thing right?"

Probably. He hasn't actually investigated, given he birthed the idea only a few minutes prior, but probably it is.

i. in most cases, sugar solves the problem

[claritatis]

[He hadn't realised how weary he looked. The full moons here have been taking more and more energy out of him each time they roll around and this being a particularly brisk morning has not helped matters in the slightest. Along with taking part in the Cwyld study, he had no doubt been pushing his developing Naga physiology to its limits.

"You look as if you could use something sweet to nibble on right now."

Ignis' attention snaps up immediately. His thoughts had drifted far, far further away than he had realised.]

Oh. [Spoken quite softly. He doesn't reach out to take it just yet.] I was miles away. Do I look as bad as that?

[benedicus]

Well now, I wouldn't quite put it so harshly. Certainly nothing that a decent amount of rest couldn't help ease.

( because this young man did look thoroughly exhausted. these last several days couldn't have been kind to him and he imagines that there might be a few additional factors at play as well. that is, if the shine of scales of his face were of any indication.

immediately, aziraphale feels an extra degree of sympathy for him. he remembers what it had been like and quite vividly so. he had only just recently stopped changing in new and upsetting ways.

or so he hopes, anyway. )

And, well—

( he pushes the napkin just a little closer. it's in the house, as they say. )

[claritatis]

Easier said than done.

[And particularly with everything that's been going on lately. Ignis has undoubtedly been getting less sleep than he should be, but he didn't realise it was showing so much that other people could easily see it.

He regards the napkin for a moment, then smiles a little and reaches up for it.]

If you're sure? I can pay.

[But... even Ignis won't refuse free cake. Hopefully the way he immediately appraises it isn't insulting.]

Did you make this?

[benedicus]

( there is an understanding nod at the confession. aziraphale understands fully that it is no easy task to rest these days, not while everything is so consistently troubling. he offers him a small nod to that.

then he waves his hand, dismissive. )

No, no need for that. Consider it to "on the house", as they say.

( another nod then. )

I did indeed, just this morning. Please tell me how you like it.

iv.

[gynvael]

Receiving an invitation by letter is not unusual per se. It's just that 1) he doesn't usually get invited anywhere, by letter or otherwise, period; and 2) folks here seem to prefer to catch hold of him using the watches (to their detriment, given how little Geralt ever looks at the damn thing.)

The penmanship is as stuffy as he expects it to be. So is the wording. Still, it's got his curiosity. As annoyingly inquisitive as Fell is, there's one point in his favor: Geralt doesn't doubt his intentions. If he says he wants lunch, Geralt suspects that's pretty much all the man wants. That, and he hasn't bothered Geralt about that incident in the orchards since, seemingly more interested in asking about Jaskier and barding.

It's possible he's meeting the angel on about two hours of sleep -- that's another story he won't get into -- but it's hard to tell either way, given his lack of care towards his appearance in general. His hair might look even scruffier than usual, though.

Geralt stops in front of the bench, finding him more by scent than sight. He holds up the letter between two fingers, with its open seal. "You summoned."

[benedicus]

The current assessment that Geralt has of Aziraphale is fully and entirely correct. While he had experienced a very intimate memory of his, Aziraphale had no intentions of prying any further into it. He did want to talk about it, absolutely, but not at risk of causing him any further upset. No, no, he is far more interested in getting acquainted with Geralt in general.

He has led such an interesting and exciting life that he cannot help but be interested.

Of course, today he didn't intend to ask him too many questions. Today, he would like to have lunch and enjoy each other's company! As much as might be allowed. Considering.

When Geralt approaches, stopping right in front of where he is sitting, Aziraphale smiles bright and full of sharp teeth.

"Good day to you, my dear fellow. I'm delighted you received my letter!" he exclaims, pressing his fingers together. "I hope that you have been well."

Not that he can really tell. Geralt looks about the same as the last time they had met. No worse for wear, although there is really no easy way to readily identify how someone might be doing emotionally and mentally.

"I do hope that you're not opposed to taking a little walk with me before we fetch something to eat?"

[gynvael]

Geralt doubts there's much that doesn't delight the man. He eyes him for a moment. A twitch in his tail says more than Geralt lets on. Still, he did show and he intends to see this meeting out. For the food, at least.

And maybe because he's thinking it's time he finds out what an angel even is. It's the only thing Fell has insisted on being secretive about.

"I don't know what you expect out of my company," he replies. "I'm hardly made for conversational dining."

Well. Sometimes he is. If he bothers to put effort into it, usually because he's needs to be paid and the amount is, for once, high enough for him to actually, you know. Try. But those are moments few and far between. They also rarely last very long if it ever happens.

[benedicus]

Oh, there is no doubt about that. Geralt was certainly not any sort of sparkling conversationist and seemed to tired fairly quickly of conversation in general. However, and this is really the key part of it, Geralt had not once yet implied that he disliked Aziraphale's company. He has been fairly generous in most of their interactions, actually.

"Well, I don't mean to sound too forward, but I enjoy your company just as it is," he explains as he starts to push himself off of the bench. Then, he adds, "And I suppose there is a sense of kinship as well."

To emphasise what he means, he gestures to Geralt's ears and tail then he points to the pair of lion ears on his own head. They might be manifesting as different animals, but they were both of a similar type.

1

[chefalier]

[Maybe it's just the sun, or maybe he is exhausted from everything that's happened recently, but Sanji finds himself mildly slumped at the counter. He really doesn't mean to just hang around in someone's business like this, but he hasn't found the energy to get up and leave the quaint bakery. Guess if the owner gives him shit, he'll start ordering something besides a glass of water, because getting kicked out into the sun doesn't sound pleasant to him.

Not many places like vampires anyway and with how pale he's become, it's been hard to hide what he is.

As such, he's not expecting a napkin to suddenly slide in front of him, a delicious looking cake sitting so pleasantly on top. Sanji wearily looks in the direction of the person responsible for this, noting the kind looking man.]

Huh? [It takes him a moment to really process everything, but Sanji blinks slowly and looks down at the cake again.] You sure about that?

[benedicus]

( the said owner of this particular bakery has already left the shop after a busy morning of baking in the kitchen and then an extended period of smoking in the alleyway behind the shop. their current traffic hasn't been enough to encourage him to stick around, leaving aziraphale and another co-worker at the helm of the shop today.

neither of them have really minded having some quiet company in the corner of the seating area. )

Yes, I am quite sure.

( he glances off to the side where there are a stack of mugs. )

Could I get you some tea as well? I assure you that there's no fur in either.

[chefalier]

[Nice old geezer.

While Sanji has definitely become far more familiar with people who are just kind, it's still not something he doesn't take for granted. As such, much of the gruffness that the cook often carries softens lightly, behaving far more polite than normal. He can not act like a shithead when he wants to. Sometimes.

He rubs the back of his head, before nodding. Tea sounds fantastic right about now.]

If you're offering, yeah. Just black is good.

[He looks down at the cake and takes a small bite, enjoying its sweet flavors. He normally doesn't crave sweets and such, but it's always different when the food's offered to him.]

[benedicus]

( that's quite the relief. aziraphale had been a little worried that his attempt at goodwill might get rejected. he smiles over at him, warm and bright. )

Of course, just a moment.

( and it really is just a moment. it takes him no time to retrieve a mug, slip in a black tea bag, and fill it with hot water. he sits it down on the table within reach but not too close that it might accidentally get bumped. )

Would you mind I sat with you?

ii

[unsundered]

Dying was something of a drain on one's health and stamina, at least in this world. With no ability to conveniently change bodies upon the demise of the old, Emet-Selch was left instead to the mercy of magic and necromancers. As a result, the slow, uncomfortable route to healing was one that he'd been made to endure. Weeks had passed, but time and rest had mostly done as they were supposed to, the most they ever could do.

So the Ascian is only recently out of the hospital after such misadventures, and while to the eye he doesn't appear particularly unwell (the scarring around one eye looks old, but there's the suggestion of a bandage at his throat) he definitely looks tired. But then, that's nothing new. There's not much there to improve.

Going outside, though, that is new, but now that his health permits it, airing himself out now and again was inevitable. And what visions are there to reward his effort? The sight of a man apparently trying to convince the very ground itself that he was not, indeed, angry with it. It has Emet-Selch stopping to stare at the scene unfolding, as though some sense would appear if he watched long enough. But no sense appears, no reason appears, and rather than walking on (the reasonable thing to do, when met with a sight like this, is to ignore it) he steps slowly closer, all to address this probable-madman and his dirt.

"Whatever the earth may have done to offend you," the commentary comes low and idle, as Aziraphale takes to assaulting the grass as well (A new hole in the making? He wonders.), "you're not going to convince it of much of anything like that."

[benedicus]

The problem is that Aziraphale is so focused on watching for even the slightest bit of movement of the blades of grass or even the soil that he does not notice when someone else happens to approach. He does not notice until the sound of a stranger's voice startles him, abruptly reminding him of his surroundings. There's no way for him to hide the way he jumps, all of his hair and fur set on edge.

. . . Which is remarkably embarrassing, if he does say so himself.

"Oh! Hello!" he says, immediately speaking too quickly as if quick action might help him get in front of his little slip up. He doesn't quite get up, but he does move to sit back against his legs as he tilts his face up towards the man, hoping not to come across as too rude.

"No, no, no," he starts, waving a hand out towards the yard. "I believe you are mistaken or perhaps I am giving the wrong impression, but you see, a little friend has made off with something of mine. Dashed right off with it and out of sight! But I did see them slip into the grass."

He sounds ridiculous.

He knows that he does, but there's nothing he could do about it. Unfortunately, the situation is indeed exactly as he explained. Then, to add to the misfortune, there's also a flicker of bright orange between blades of grass while Aziraphale isn't watching to catch sight of it.

[unsundered]

The startle- and it is, at least, clear that it is genuine startle, and not a sign of aggression- gets an amused (and somewhat habitually smug) smile out of him, watching as the stranger jumps in his place in the grass.

The attempt at both politeness and explanation causes him to settle further into casual curiosity. Ridiculous indeed, but perhaps not mad. Considering the varieties of fae that existed on this star, he could well believe that one was playing some sort of trick on this unfortunate monster. Perhaps it even wanted to be caught, delighting in the chase, if it yet lingered, rather than escaping immediately with its prize... whatever it is.

"Not much of a friend, is it? As you don't seem the sort to appreciate tricks."

Or maybe he was mad after all- or if the Ascian was being open-minded, merely cursed to appear that way. Hunting after nothing, making demands of grass and earth alone.

Though a sudden flash of color nestled amongst grass catches Emet-Selch's eye, lending some sort of credence to this stranger's story. And though he considers saying nothing on it, whim causes him to add: "Ah. To your right, if you will."

Quick as it was, it might well be gone, though.

[benedicus]

The reaction is near immediate. As soon as the stranger points out the potential location of that awful little thief who has made off with his watch, Aziraphale's hand snaps out to claw his hand through the glass in a manner much more similar to a feline than a human. He can feel his claws latch onto something.

Then there's a snap.

"Good lord," Aziraphale breathes out in irritation as he lifts up a paw-shaped hand to show off the watch chain that he had managed to retrieve. At the very least, he thinks, that is half of it. Progress of a sort if he's going to be generous about it.

He lets out a little sigh, curling the chain in his grasp.

"I have always been fond of fun little tricks like illusions or performative magic, but these little winged . . . creatures little more than pests," he explains, half heartedly trying to be kind about his feelings before being forthright about it.

"Would you mind helping keep your eyes open for them for a little longer?"

i. in most cases, sugar solves the problem.

[tryhard]

Waver might be a semi-familiar face as a customer. He comes in on occasion to grab some bread or, rarely, dessert. Mostly, if there are tables free on a quiet day, he enjoys sitting down to read or do some paperwork for a couple of hours with a cup or three of tea.

It's been some time since he's been around, though. And he is looking a bit frazzled, stacks of folders piled high on the little table.

Hearing footsteps approach, his canine ears perk up first, swiveling toward the source of the sound while he finishes writing something down and then looking up. In surprise.

He blinks at the lemon loaf as if he's never seen one before.

"Oh... er, th-thank you. That's very generous."

Unless he's being charged for it. Is he being charged for it? How to ask without being super awkward? Is it an offer or a suggestion?

"I mean... I, er, I can have it?"

[benedicus]

For the most part, Aziraphale tends to recognise the customers who come into the bakery on a semi-regular or regular basis. Things like their faces, their preference in goods, and whether or not they prefer to take their orders to go. The young man currently occupying one of the seats, nearly buried in what must surely be work, is a face he sees on occasion.

They have hardly spoken any more than necessary in the past, but he looks so out of sorts today that Aziraphale feels it would be a terrible slight to ignore him. Unfortunately, it seems he has caught him a little off guard with his impromptu gift.

Aziraphale smiles.

"Yes. No charge, never you mind any of that," he answers easily. "It'll keep your spirits up!"

[tryhard]

"Oh..." Waver looks a bit stunned, surprised by the generosity. He also looks like he's barely slept, and the random bit of kindness has a weirdly greater impact when he's running on nothing but coffee, leaving him with half-open mouth.

"Okay. I see. Thanks."

A pause, a beat of awkward (at least to him) silence.

"Actually, can I have another coffee too?"

Wait, no--

"I- I don't mean for free, of course. I'll pay for the coffee. I'd just like another, please."

[benedicus]

Aziraphale laughs, warm and bright. While it's truly unfortunate that this young man is as tired as he appears to be, it is also something that Aziraphale understands deeply. He has had many days feeling much like this, worn down and overwhelmed by any generosity tossed his way.

"It's quite alright. I'll bring you another cup," he says, not clarifying whether or not he intends to charge for it.

Stepping away from where the young man is sat, Aziraphale leaves to retrieve a fresh, warm mug and recreate his coffee order. The wait is minimal and he reappears by the table after just a moment or two to place the mug down.

"Here you are."

Then he glances back over the young man.

"If you don't think me too nosy, may I inquire as to what you're working on?"