I think I'm still breathing jet fuel fumes
May. 2nd, 2006 11:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vulgarweedI'm working on a lot of things at the moment.
This wasn't supposed to be one of them. But it made me laugh so I wrote it down.
Just a little crack-flavoured alternate take on the "Phoenix & Turtle"-verse; sometime in the 18th century, two woman-shaped beings of angelic stock are having a most productive round of gossip.
Girl Talk
Rating: PG for discussion of other beings' sex lives
Warnings: Use of the word "fagalicious."
Summary: In which the Angel of Inscrutability is briefly scrutable. Annael doesn't fall for it.
Face powdered and beauty mark perfectly placed, Annael (woman-shaped at the moment) extended one delicate hand for the manicurist to practise his art.
The human walked away to retrieve his kit, pausing only to attempt to shoo away a particularly scraggly beggar girl who scratched at the diamond-paned window. Annael Saw, though, and that was enough for her to stop time to have a word.
The beggar girl shimmered in her ratty cloak, copper-gold light spilling out of the lice-ridden folds. The honey of heaven and the hisses of hell were in her mouth, bad teeth and all. It was a cheap disguise, but effective. Underneath it, she was angel-shaped at the moment.
“You’re not supposed to be here!” whispered Annael.
“According to Whom?”
“You have a lot of explaining to do, Madimiel.”
“But you know I never explain.”
Annael rolled her eyes. “You and your ‘mysterious’ act. It’s overblown and melodramatic, you know. And it draws attention. Why don’t you just write I AM A DOUBLE AGENT on your forehead and be done with it? Just because the Plan is Ineffable doesn’t mean you have to try to perform it upon the stage.”
Madimiel laughed. “But the humans really like it.”
“That’s something you’d better explain. You almost drove that poor wretch mad, you know. And really…wife-swapping?”
“Oh, that,” Madimiel said dismissively. “As if they hated it. It was only a test of faith, and that sacrifice-your-own-son sort of thing has been done to death. So to speak. So patriarchal, all that seed and sword symbolism. Killing isn’t the only thing frightening and awe-inspiring after all.”
“Well, it was certainly unorthodox. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were explaining something.”
“That pearl pink polish is not you, you know. I would use the coral. I am a double agent, after all. It’s a dirty job but someone has to do it. I deserve my little perks here and there.”
“Perks?”
“Well,” Madimiel looked around shiftily. “To tell you the truth, what I really hoped for was a glimpse of them, er, proving faith with each other. I know Kelley at least would have enjoyed that too…”
Annael clapped her hand to her forehead. “Oh, you just explained something else! Now some of your proclivities are better known to me. But they won’t call it ‘slash’ for a few centuries yet.”
Madimiel went on as if she hadn’t heard. “But alas, Dr. Dee was so stubbornly heterosexual.”
“You should have figured that out when he never rose to Aziraphale’s bait.”
“Oh, but he did. I have never seen such mutual ecstasies of book-lust, such shared passion predicated upon the parchment page. The explosions of coloured inks of desire in their eyes! Their striving and competing, the all-consuming admiration of each other’s…collections…”
“Well, that wasn’t quite what I meant, but I do see your…”
“It takes all sorts of forms, you know. Anyway, bait? Really?”
“Not literally. It’s just that…well, you know what everyone thinks when they first meet Aziraphale.”
“And it’s true, isn’t it? But the alarming thing is that he is not even the most fagalicious among our ranks.”
“No,” smirked Madimiel. “That was Gadriel before he Fell. Who is still among my ranks in a way, if not yours.”
Annael shrieked with laughter. “Oh yes, that one. Imagine – a Serpent with limp wrists.”
“It’s so sweet that they found each other.”
“They’re both hard to miss.”
“It’s going to make trouble, isn’t it?” Annael sighed.
“Of course. You know Himself has been getting bored easily these days.”
Annael sighed again, louder. Casual blasphemy had always been Madimiel’s forte. “Which Himself?”
“Both of them, actually. But I really meant, you know, the Game Master. Who is a bit of a soppy romantic at heart—and likes challenges and surprises, which are not easy to come by when you’re omniscient and omnipotent.” She giggled gnomishly.
“For someone without Free Will, you do shoot your mouth off freely.” Annael winked, as she always did whenever a pious reference was made to lack of Free Will. Hardly anybody bought that one anymore.
“Contributes to my sense of mystery, I suppose,” Madimiel shrugged. “Tell me, do you think I ought to get my nails done as well?”
“Definitely so, and lose the boils. Then we can go have a drink in a decent establishment like proper ladies of the world.”
“Oh, I like that idea. And a pinch of snuff would not go amiss.”
~~
OK, back to writing...something else.
This wasn't supposed to be one of them. But it made me laugh so I wrote it down.
Just a little crack-flavoured alternate take on the "Phoenix & Turtle"-verse; sometime in the 18th century, two woman-shaped beings of angelic stock are having a most productive round of gossip.
Girl Talk
Rating: PG for discussion of other beings' sex lives
Warnings: Use of the word "fagalicious."
Summary: In which the Angel of Inscrutability is briefly scrutable. Annael doesn't fall for it.
Face powdered and beauty mark perfectly placed, Annael (woman-shaped at the moment) extended one delicate hand for the manicurist to practise his art.
The human walked away to retrieve his kit, pausing only to attempt to shoo away a particularly scraggly beggar girl who scratched at the diamond-paned window. Annael Saw, though, and that was enough for her to stop time to have a word.
The beggar girl shimmered in her ratty cloak, copper-gold light spilling out of the lice-ridden folds. The honey of heaven and the hisses of hell were in her mouth, bad teeth and all. It was a cheap disguise, but effective. Underneath it, she was angel-shaped at the moment.
“You’re not supposed to be here!” whispered Annael.
“According to Whom?”
“You have a lot of explaining to do, Madimiel.”
“But you know I never explain.”
Annael rolled her eyes. “You and your ‘mysterious’ act. It’s overblown and melodramatic, you know. And it draws attention. Why don’t you just write I AM A DOUBLE AGENT on your forehead and be done with it? Just because the Plan is Ineffable doesn’t mean you have to try to perform it upon the stage.”
Madimiel laughed. “But the humans really like it.”
“That’s something you’d better explain. You almost drove that poor wretch mad, you know. And really…wife-swapping?”
“Oh, that,” Madimiel said dismissively. “As if they hated it. It was only a test of faith, and that sacrifice-your-own-son sort of thing has been done to death. So to speak. So patriarchal, all that seed and sword symbolism. Killing isn’t the only thing frightening and awe-inspiring after all.”
“Well, it was certainly unorthodox. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were explaining something.”
“That pearl pink polish is not you, you know. I would use the coral. I am a double agent, after all. It’s a dirty job but someone has to do it. I deserve my little perks here and there.”
“Perks?”
“Well,” Madimiel looked around shiftily. “To tell you the truth, what I really hoped for was a glimpse of them, er, proving faith with each other. I know Kelley at least would have enjoyed that too…”
Annael clapped her hand to her forehead. “Oh, you just explained something else! Now some of your proclivities are better known to me. But they won’t call it ‘slash’ for a few centuries yet.”
Madimiel went on as if she hadn’t heard. “But alas, Dr. Dee was so stubbornly heterosexual.”
“You should have figured that out when he never rose to Aziraphale’s bait.”
“Oh, but he did. I have never seen such mutual ecstasies of book-lust, such shared passion predicated upon the parchment page. The explosions of coloured inks of desire in their eyes! Their striving and competing, the all-consuming admiration of each other’s…collections…”
“Well, that wasn’t quite what I meant, but I do see your…”
“It takes all sorts of forms, you know. Anyway, bait? Really?”
“Not literally. It’s just that…well, you know what everyone thinks when they first meet Aziraphale.”
“And it’s true, isn’t it? But the alarming thing is that he is not even the most fagalicious among our ranks.”
“No,” smirked Madimiel. “That was Gadriel before he Fell. Who is still among my ranks in a way, if not yours.”
Annael shrieked with laughter. “Oh yes, that one. Imagine – a Serpent with limp wrists.”
“It’s so sweet that they found each other.”
“They’re both hard to miss.”
“It’s going to make trouble, isn’t it?” Annael sighed.
“Of course. You know Himself has been getting bored easily these days.”
Annael sighed again, louder. Casual blasphemy had always been Madimiel’s forte. “Which Himself?”
“Both of them, actually. But I really meant, you know, the Game Master. Who is a bit of a soppy romantic at heart—and likes challenges and surprises, which are not easy to come by when you’re omniscient and omnipotent.” She giggled gnomishly.
“For someone without Free Will, you do shoot your mouth off freely.” Annael winked, as she always did whenever a pious reference was made to lack of Free Will. Hardly anybody bought that one anymore.
“Contributes to my sense of mystery, I suppose,” Madimiel shrugged. “Tell me, do you think I ought to get my nails done as well?”
“Definitely so, and lose the boils. Then we can go have a drink in a decent establishment like proper ladies of the world.”
“Oh, I like that idea. And a pinch of snuff would not go amiss.”
~~
OK, back to writing...something else.
