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Current Location: the grounds

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(no subject)

Date: April 23rd
Place: The Manor grounds
Status: Public - Aziraphale and Michael (anyone is welcome, though)
Summary: Michael is skilled at avoidance. Operation: Avoid Gabriel has now commenced.

All right, so maybe Michael had overreacted. Evicting Gabriel from his room and then Binding him out might have been considered... over-the-top. But it was his room... and anyway, the gasped "NO" following the "I love you" declaration was enough to throw anyone off! So really, Gabriel brought this on himself. Yeah. Let him grieve the loss of someone he didn't like. Woo. You go, Michael. Way to make a stand.

But Michael's room was boring, and there was only so long you could spend pacing. So, where was Gabriel not likely to go?

Well obviously the Library was out of the question; not that it would be Michael's first choice of location anyway. But Gabriel was such an inside creature - the lack of tan gave that away! - that his best bet was to go outside.

And so he did so, going outside, sitting on a bench and spreading his wings. They needed the sun to keep bring out their highlights, anyway.

He pondered what to do. What was there to do?

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Aziraphale had frowned at the mention of the American Loki, but pushed it aside and cleared his throat while Michael turned an odd shade of pink. "We were simply gossiping," he said. "You know how it is. A group of ecclectic individuals come to one place and you can't help but comment on some of them."

There was a way to easily change the subject and assure it stayed changed; make Michael angry.

"Like that Duncan fellow," he said. "Am I to understand he claims to be several centuries old?"

"A several-centuries-old jackass," Michael muttered.

"I've no idea," Loki said. "I haven't talked to him much yet. Could find out, I guess. What'd he do to be called a jackass? Does he hee-haw?"

He leaned conspiratorially towards Michael and lowered his voice so that even Aziraphale would have trouble understanding his words: "And that is one adorable shade of pink."

Michael had been about to respond with a list of reasons why Duncan needed to take some Midol and eat some chocolate*, but blinked when it registered what Loki had said to him.

"Are you hitting on me?" he asked. "Because while I'm flattered, I think, I barely know you, so it's kinda awkward and waaaay too soon. But thanks anyway."

---
* Mmm, chocolate...

Edited 2010-06-08 18:41 (UTC)

Loki threw back his head and laughed. "Sorry, man," he said. "I'm currently wearing the wrong kind of gender for that kind of thing. And the last time I turned into a woman for any amount of time it was an old one, and the time before it was a mare. I'm not in the habit of running around looking prettier than my wife."

He calmed down and leaned comfortably between the two again.

Michael grinned. "Geez, I feel so unworldly. I've never been a woman before. Maybe I should try it sometime. Although Gabriel might smite me out of jealousy if I ever turn up prettier than him."

"Try it where he won't see," Loki suggested with a grin. "And really - have you told me what you are yet - apart from feather-bed material, I mean?"

Michael blinked. Oh, right. This guy might not know who he is. "Oh yeah. I'm Saint Michael the Archangel, General of the Heavenly Host, Viceroy of Heaven-"

Aziraphale cleared his throat loudly. "Essentially, Michael is in charge, only after the Lord Our Father," he translated, ignoring Michael's put-out expression at not being allowed to list his long string of titles.

Loki thoughtfully scratched his chin. "I thought 'saint' was attached to the names of people who died a particularly painful death," he mused.

That was, at least, what he had gathered from the tales he had heard when he had sat in on a church service or two, curious about this new faith that had apparently all but replaced the one he was a part of.

"Well typically, yes, but the Catholics have tacked on Saint to a few angels as well. It might even be all of them; I'm not entirely certain." Aziraphale had, after all, taken steps to avoid such things in the past.

Michael frowned a little. "I guess it sounds cool," he said. "And I have died painful deaths a couple of times, but you know, I can't really die-die unless things go really, really wrong... But hey, 'saint,' isn't one of my better titles anyway."

"How wrong?" Loki asked Michael. "And do people actually go around calling you that?"

He considered for a moment.

"You know, it might work with Michael or A-zi-ra-pha-le, but imagine someone tacked that title to my name! The title would be longer than my actual name, and how would that sound?"

He still wanted to know about the ordeals the two had mentioned before, but he had the impression he was unlikely get information on that if he asked yet again. Better to bide his time.

Aziraphale thought about it. "You don't have titles, do you..." he murmured, trying to think. "Beyond your occupations, I mean. Or am I incorrect?"

"My occupation?" Loki said. "Not sure what you mean, my dear. Some people would title me troublemaker - though I object to that particular 'title'."

"Occupations, as in, for some reason I recall you being the god of chaos. Is that incorrect?" Aziraphale made a displeased face. "I apologise. It's been awhile since I've indulged in Norse literature and my memory is a bit rusty on the subject."

"Some call me troublemaker," Loki admitted. "I'm not sure how well that would do for a title, though."

"Actually it's a pretty cool title, if it's capitalized," Michael replied, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. "You know, the Trickster, the Troublemaker. I like Trickster more. It's not my thing, but I kinda like the sound of it."

"Trickster," Loki repeated. "That sounds like "Nah, no need to take him serious, he's just playing pranks."

He considered for a moment. "So what are you actually doing here when you're not hanging around moping?"

"Not if you put 'the' in front of it," Michael pointed out. "'Trickster' sounds lame, but if you're 'the Trickster,' then you sound kind of awesome."

"And I don't hang around and mope," he protested lamely. "I do lots of stuff. Well, I will do lots of stuff, like end the world. That's why I'm here. Just have to talk to Adam first. He's avoiding me, though."

Aziraphale's jaw dropped.

"Now look," Loki said, grinning in a way that could be taken by the angel any way he wanted to take it. "Ending the world, I must sadly say, is my job, not yours. But, you know, we can always talk about it. Why don't you tell me which parts, specifically, you would like to end, and we'll talk about it and make a deal?"

Michael raised an eyebrow at him. "The whole thing," he replied. "That's sort of the point of the Apocalypse. Lakes of fire, Horsepersons, humans die, the world ends, the devil goes FWOOSH. Why, were you only thinking of destroying part of it?"

Aziraphale felt nauseated as he stood up. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he said, hoping he looked better than he felt. "I ought to be... back at the Manor."

Before waiting for a response, he quickly fled from them.

He loved this world! Why did... why did everyone else want it gone?

"I think we scared him," Loki said as he looked after the other man. He climbed over the backrest of the bench and slid in the place Aziraphale had vacated.

To Michael, he added: "We can't both destroy it all. That's why I suggested splitting things up. See, I don't have the devil on my list, so you can have that, for example."