but it died so other towns could live ( OPEN )

[atreefull]

WHO: aziraphale & you
WHAT: an extremely backdated catchall for the first half of october + gen catch-all
WHERE: kyst, moon temple, gods wood
WHEN: the first three weeks of october
WARNINGS: starvation/rot, the usual


prompts are in comments below, please let me know if you'd like something different or feel free to post something under 'wildcard'!

Comments

[atreefull]

Er. ( Not really, but Aziraphale can't just be open about that. ) I suppose so, yes. This place offers a chance to learn things that would be impossible back in our own worlds.

( None of that is exactly a lie, and he looks slightly uncomfortable but still willing to hold a conversation. )

[latrodectus]

[ Hmmm. He's definitely hiding something. But then, Natasha thinks everyone is hiding something.

She tilts her head. ]

Is magic impossible? In your world?

[ It isn't, in hers. ]

[atreefull]

It is, yes.

( Not a lie, for technically it's all miracles and occult and ethereal beings going about their business. He blinks, and looks at her even as he dusts off his hands on his pants -- there's a noticable lack of a stain of mud or dirt, however. )

What about yours, if you don't mind me asking?

[latrodectus]

[ Curiouser and curiouser. ]

I've been told that magic is just physical effect. Radiation. But empowered by ritual. [ She has been told this by a man named Doctor Druid, and it is somehow comforting to know there are worlds where no one who calls themself something as ridiculous as Doctor Druid exist. ] But it isn't my department.

[ She shrugs. Her magical expertise is limited, and there are still people who don't believe in the things Stephen Strange can conjure. ]

[atreefull]

Er, well, perhaps it is. Like I said, not common where I'm from.

( What does she mean by-- )

Your department?

[latrodectus]

[ Cold combat. Shadow warfare. ]

Well, that's all theoretical, isn't it? I'm not a very theoretical person.

[ Natasha had dealt with her magical problem by setting off a miniature atomic bomb. ]

[atreefull]

More of the hands-on type, eh? I know the like.

( He says, completely misconstruing her statement without the required context. He smiles, sheepishly. )

Can't say I'm one of them. I do love having a good theoretical discussion over a glass of wine. ( And, because he's forgotten his manners: ) Aziraphale.

[latrodectus]

Well. I do like wine.

[ She smiles, leaning into the introduction. She hasn't tried the wine here, and now she's a little curious. But she can save that thought for later. ]

I'm Natasha.

[ Aziraphale is a name she's never heard before, which is unusual. Is it… Hebrew? She can't place it. ]

[atreefull]

Well, you'll just have to come to Kyst! There's a little cafe that my friend and I frequent -- it's not bad, but it's better with company.

( This is mostly because he and Crowley take turns on using miracles to make the wine better. Details. He smiles, nodding. )

It's a pleasure, Natasha.

[latrodectus]

Likewise. [ She smiles, too, and it's a disarming smile. Well-crafted. ]

I haven't been to Kyst, yet. Do you have a recommendation on the vintage?

[atreefull]

Hm, I can't say for sure on an exact year. But anything from Stars territory tends to be better than anything from Moon. Although, hm, perhaps don't inform the Priestess of such.

( It's a little joke, for he's pretty certain that liking wine from one territory over another isn't something that should be concerning. )

[latrodectus]

Oh, a traitor. [ She says this lightly. ] Well, don't worry. My lips are sealed.

[ A quick smile, equally light. Behind it she's thinking, wondering how alike their worlds really are. ]

Have you been to Paris?

[ Worth a shot. Many people seem to have been brought here from Earth. At least, from an Earth. ]

[atreefull]

A man of, um. Taste, perhaps.

( He doesn't like that word! Although when she mentions Paris he practically beams at her. )

Many times! I spent a few years ( decades ) there once, and always liked to pop back when I've a craving for something London just can't satisfy.

[latrodectus]

[ She nods. So he is English, it isn't just an aesthetic. ]

My favorite hotel in Paris is famous for their cellar. During the war, they were a favorite of the German officers, so people say they buried bottles in the garden, to keep them safe.

[ That part was true. The ownership was fine taking Nazi money, and half the staff were Vichy sympathizers, but they would not give up the wine. ]

Perhaps in Kyst they've considered it.

[atreefull]

( It is very much an aesthetic, as Heaven certainly isn't England. But that's his little secret. )

Hôtel Lutetia? I'm familiar with the place. And their wine, but I'm afraid my weak spot when it comes to France is their crêpes. Once got myself into a little situation over them, even.

( He huffs, slightly, and smiles. )

But I digress. Perhaps they have -- I should hate for things to go that sour.

[latrodectus]

Yes. À grands maux, grands remèdes.

[ Desperate times call for desperate measures. Natasha's accent is metropolitan and impeccable. Her glance falls down on the rows of sad plants, one now quite a bit greener. She kneels next to a neighbor, still brown and withered. ]

But I always preferred blini.

[atreefull]

Mm, indeed.

( Aziraphale, overly helpful, encourages the plant to turn green under her care. It's fine, he's not doing anything in particlar, just standing there having a conversation. )

A slavophile? Or with a name like Natasha -- ( He shrugs, it's not really important. ) Haven't been to Russia recently myself, I'm ashamed to say. Things just kept getting in the way.

( And he learned his lesson about hanging around revolutionaries in Paris, at least. )

[latrodectus]

Me neither. [ Natasha tries to avoid it. ] But I was born in Volgograd. [ It had a different name then, but she's been through a few names, herself.

She glances up at him a little suspiciously before continuing on to another plant. It is because she is from the place that Volgograd used to be that she cares about nourishing these plants, weakening the famine, if it cannot be ended. ]

[atreefull]

Tsaritsyn, Stalingrad -- yes, I know it. ( A small, thoughtful frown. One of the many examples of humans being far more creative in their destruction than Heaven or Hell could ever account for in its time. He huffs, shaking his head. ) I haven't been, actually -- I tended to stay around Moscow on my visits. Like most, I'm sure.

( This is only because Saint Petersburg hadn't been built the last time he visited, although he'd have found the city more to his style. )

Did your family move to America, then?

( After all, there's no trace of an accent in her voice. His curiosity is simply a way of getting to know her; he doesn't mean to pry. Well, much. )