Title: The Saunter
Author: Dracostella
Disclaimer: Not mine. Based on the book Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Note: I'm not misspelling Crowley... he's still Crawly here...
***
Crawly was scared. He did not have a flaming sword to defend himself, and the angels who did have them looked like they meant business. It wasn't entirely fair, Crawly thought as he tired his best to not look conspicuous in the battle. He didn't pick to be on Morning Star's side. All he said was that maybe Morning Star had a point. He didn't say he agreed with the point. He just thought they should have listened. And that was enough: Metatron blared disobedience at his face. When the fight broke out, all Crawly could do was try his best not to get in anyone's way. Technically, he didn't know what would happen if someone struck him with a flaming sword because flaming swords didn't exist before Morning Star's little fall out with the Almighty. But, on principal, he knew he didn't want a sword through him. He did notice, with some interest* that there were about as many angels fighting against Morning Star as there were fighting for him.
*That is, with as much interest as anyone could muster while they were dodging swords and feeling scared.
On the side of his vision he saw Michael starting to strangle the now serpentine Morning Star. Crawly would have cursed if he knew how. On his left, Gabriel whacked someone he didn't know on the head, and the someone fell.
Crawly was watching the someone's free fall in confusion when he almost bumped into an angel. The angel seemed to have been doing what Crawly was doing, trying to stay out of the fight.
"Um..." the angel said, blushing and looking embarrassed.
Crawly recognized the angel. It was one of the few angels in heaven who was not startling beautiful. It was one of the slightly awkward looking angels. His name was Arizaphale.
The awkward looking angel shifted his weight and said, "Um...could you...fall without my help?"
Crawly had wanted to ask if the angel if he was suppose to do that, but even though Arizaphale had a flaming sword too, and the angel looked so distressed that Crawly shrugged and nodded.
When Michael cast down Morning Star to Hell, Crawly followed as best he could. But without the momentums of an angel's push, Crawly's fall was quite a bit slower.
But his leisurely descent quickly ended when a wave of fallen angels dropped down on top of him, dragging him down. Crawly found himself unpleasantly close to the flesh of a lot of angry angels. He slithered upwards and tried to keep his head above the swell of angels. He had focused so much on getting his head above their mashed together bodies that it was almost a surprise when Crawly chocked on their collective anger. The anger was drenching him, devouring him, and Crawly felt his mind slipping away.
"Oh this is not good," Crawly said to no one in particular. This was definitely not what he wanted. But there was little he could do as he felt his mind being drowned by blind anger. In a moment of desperation, he did the only thing he could: he looked up.
A feather floated down to him. Crawly stared at it, and the feather moved forward towards him with a hint of embarrassment, as if late for an appointment. Crawly reached out and held on to it, and suddenly he was floating indistinctly over the wave of falling angels between heaven and hell. He felt their anger, but he was hovering on top of it.
He wasn't as much falling as sauntering vaguely downwards. This, Crawly decided, he could handle.
~The End
Author: Dracostella
Disclaimer: Not mine. Based on the book Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Note: I'm not misspelling Crowley... he's still Crawly here...
***
Crawly was scared. He did not have a flaming sword to defend himself, and the angels who did have them looked like they meant business. It wasn't entirely fair, Crawly thought as he tired his best to not look conspicuous in the battle. He didn't pick to be on Morning Star's side. All he said was that maybe Morning Star had a point. He didn't say he agreed with the point. He just thought they should have listened. And that was enough: Metatron blared disobedience at his face. When the fight broke out, all Crawly could do was try his best not to get in anyone's way. Technically, he didn't know what would happen if someone struck him with a flaming sword because flaming swords didn't exist before Morning Star's little fall out with the Almighty. But, on principal, he knew he didn't want a sword through him. He did notice, with some interest* that there were about as many angels fighting against Morning Star as there were fighting for him.
*That is, with as much interest as anyone could muster while they were dodging swords and feeling scared.
On the side of his vision he saw Michael starting to strangle the now serpentine Morning Star. Crawly would have cursed if he knew how. On his left, Gabriel whacked someone he didn't know on the head, and the someone fell.
Crawly was watching the someone's free fall in confusion when he almost bumped into an angel. The angel seemed to have been doing what Crawly was doing, trying to stay out of the fight.
"Um..." the angel said, blushing and looking embarrassed.
Crawly recognized the angel. It was one of the few angels in heaven who was not startling beautiful. It was one of the slightly awkward looking angels. His name was Arizaphale.
The awkward looking angel shifted his weight and said, "Um...could you...fall without my help?"
Crawly had wanted to ask if the angel if he was suppose to do that, but even though Arizaphale had a flaming sword too, and the angel looked so distressed that Crawly shrugged and nodded.
When Michael cast down Morning Star to Hell, Crawly followed as best he could. But without the momentums of an angel's push, Crawly's fall was quite a bit slower.
But his leisurely descent quickly ended when a wave of fallen angels dropped down on top of him, dragging him down. Crawly found himself unpleasantly close to the flesh of a lot of angry angels. He slithered upwards and tried to keep his head above the swell of angels. He had focused so much on getting his head above their mashed together bodies that it was almost a surprise when Crawly chocked on their collective anger. The anger was drenching him, devouring him, and Crawly felt his mind slipping away.
"Oh this is not good," Crawly said to no one in particular. This was definitely not what he wanted. But there was little he could do as he felt his mind being drowned by blind anger. In a moment of desperation, he did the only thing he could: he looked up.
A feather floated down to him. Crawly stared at it, and the feather moved forward towards him with a hint of embarrassment, as if late for an appointment. Crawly reached out and held on to it, and suddenly he was floating indistinctly over the wave of falling angels between heaven and hell. He felt their anger, but he was hovering on top of it.
He wasn't as much falling as sauntering vaguely downwards. This, Crawly decided, he could handle.
~The End