tampered | (no subject)

WHEN; Just after this whole mess, later in the evening.
RATING; TBA!
CHARACTERS; Alexiel [

againstgod ], Aziraphale [

wingedly ], & Lucifer [

alexielobsessed ].
SUMMARY; Tea invitations, new meetings, and a slightly hysterical angel.
LOG;

Well. Today could very have assuredly taken a one angel’s touchingly literature fanatical brain, shoved it into the nearest baking appliance, pressed the button to start the agonizing deterioration of everything he had ever nearly held dear to his heart and laid it out to dry forlornly on the street pavement so very foreign to him, at the present. For as far back as he could remember, which approximately scaled a good six thousand years give or take a few minor incidents one might rightly be pleased in forgetting, he had failed to be thoroughly informed about all the detailed facts pertaining to a one renowned Sovereign of Hell. One, why hadn’t the Upstairs ever properly held a meeting on the whole thing, especially due to the fallen angel’s supposed famed taste in the culinary arts? Two, who in the world would properly consider describing the Devil as ‘charismatic’, when such formerly used words that have to do with everything in the realm of ‘malevolence’ could be taken into account instead?

Quite befuddled to the point of mentally philosophical exhaustion, Aziraphale briefly glanced about the surrounding area with two wide pairs of impossibly light blue eyes and couldn’t help but sigh heavily out his pinkish nose, trying not to rely too much on the fact that he seemed to be in need of breathing at the moment, a more unnecessary quality at best. Spreading his wings from out behind his shoulder blades most wearily, he felt it was not only his duty to attend the foregoing tea party now at hand, as well as a hopeful attempt at companionship where there seemed to be little to no explanation of this new place, at large. A few more minutes than it really should have taken to make it to the Cathedral in question, the newly arrived angel more so stumbled onto the ground than usually one of his nature would have landed gracefully, he took in the sights of the beautifully designed architecture and nearly felt right at home, or at least passing over a few hundred years.

"Oh my." Frowning, Aziraphale pushed delicate pale fingers into the pockets of his overcoat and caught sight of the good variety of feathers that had trailed in his wake, leading right up to the door of the building in question as if he were trying to imitate something of a storybook tale he’d heard quite a while ago. Nothing left to loose, aside from what he’d already seemed to by all the fretting he had done in the past few hours, the angel meekly raised a hand to knock upon the solid door in front of him and tried his best to put on an expression that didn’t point so glaringly at his obvious discomfort.

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With an indifferent expression, he opened the door and looked down darkly on the small angel. Alexiel had wished him to play nicely with this one, and he would. Though not for the supposed threat of his pastry condemnation, but for pleasing his Alexiel and the hopeful want of her prancing happily about sans clothes later on.

"Enter." He said, voice echoing through the massive foyer of the cathedral. Stepping aside, the heavy double doors swung open, bidding the small angel enter. Lucifer gave no direction, but led the way on foot to the tea party, doors closing with a firm bang behind Aziraphale.

There are times Alexiel’s mind drifted to wonder how much she was subject of her whims as opposed to her brother’s rate. The gregarious behavior, she assumed, was a natural growing from her formerly emotionally stunned personality in which most had assumed wrongly that she wasn’t capable of feelings as God’s perfectly craved doll. Yet she did, he had seen through her carefully crafted shell during his lamentable rebellion tantrum. Talking to actual people had eventually melted that stoic look into a passionate figure that would not be longer recognized as God’s daughter. Even so, Alexiel thought that inviting an unknown angel for tea was the most outrageous idea that had crossed her.

Alexiel who had hated angels, fallen or exalted equally, agreed to a pleasant chitchat with a winged fellow. She snorted at the absurdity of absurdities, picking the pottery for the eventful gathering. Her curly brown hair was unruly set loose over the simplistic and long white and grey gown she was mannishly wearing. It was ironical that she, who was supposed to be the female perfection, never carried herself in a semblance of feminine. There was a strong masculine notion in every muscle of her body, the opposite to her brother who naturally carried himself as a lady.

The hall the Organic Angel chose was beautifully built with white and beige marble, there were golden pillars holding the ceiling with sculptures of saints and angels adorning them and the majesty dove representation of the Holy Ghost was painted on the stained glass windows. The stunning dome of the ceiling displayed Jesus and his apostles dinning and drinking during the Last Supper. All around, the atmosphere was unnervingly religious, even for an angel.

Upon finishing setting the table, fixing the aromatic jasmine tea and choosing the china, Alexiel sawed on the green velvet cushions in order to wait for Lucifer to fetch their guest. In retrospect, that may have not be a wise course of action but allowing the former Devil spike the tea was not a smart move either. Her fingers tapped her crossed arms, briefing glancing at the closed door as she grew more and more impatient to see if this angel was better than the average hypocrite of her realm.

Though to utilize the less than pleasing attributes of the body one inhabited as a spiritual being grew rather taxing to say the least, the angel in question briefly reflected on the fact that ever since They had chosen to station him upon the earth more permanently, he had gone irrevocably ‘native’ as they so liked to jest. So much so, that it was of no prior knowledge that a particularly violent shudder took hold of his limbs and a pair of wide azure eyes stared in fixed horror as the door before him was opened easily. "Er—" Gasping, with an ever so slight twitch to his motions, the angel followed after the figure ahead obediently and tried with a force of will those of his kind were not meant to uphold to silence the warning bells that sounded repeatedly. And then, he happen to gaze upward during his moment of borderline hysteria and suddenly realized with a wash of recollection that the majestic cathedral itself was very much akin to that of the ones they had back at home, of course referring to earth rather than the Upstairs, who weren’t altogether properly adorned with the grandest decorating techniques of the century.

Breathing out a sigh in something of unmixed liberation just for the present, Aziraphale was at least capable of upholding a few manners he had most certainly lacked in the past few hours by way of carefully tucking the folds of his molting wings completely out of sight before he came to what he assumed to be the hall. "Hm," the angel couldn’t help but ponder once they had passed an overly large, breathtakingly gorgeous column that must have been meant to depict Gabriel ‘the merciful’, a title that he seemingly couldn’t have rejected when it had been brought up at a meeting, long ago. Despite the at best otherworldly circumstances that had taken hold as of late, a mild smile could almost be caught adorning his rosy features as he shuffled onward behind the unlikely charge, absently wishing against all foreseeable hope that a certain demon might find his way here, as well.

"Hullo there," the angel couldn’t seem to raise his voice above anything remotely connected to a murmur at the present, at least glad of the fact that these surroundings gave one a feeling of comfort that wouldn’t very well be expected of the Devil, though he had been proved ignorant of many things in the past. Pulling at the embarrassingly tartan scarf hanging about his pale neck, Aziraphale’s lips turned upward in a polite fashion toward Alexiel for such a kind gesture of inviting him to tea, and took a well meaning stab at doing the same toward Lucifer, though the smile came out more so as a slight grimace than anything else.

Lucifer arched a brow to the table's setting. A tea party was an awfully feminine idea for Alexiel, who so often was more masculine than not. Replying nothing, he watched the nervousness of the other angel, amused at the molting of feathers and unsure manner.

Reclining on a cushion, Lucifer waited for Alexiel to greet the creature and converse. He cared little on the matter and was only doing it to please Alexiel.

Alexiel waited, rising and walking to position before the small coffee table and the three chairs she had chosen for the singular occasion when the familiar demon and the angel she had to know yet entered into the hall. Her features were frozen for a short amount of minutes, boring into Aziraphale’s pale eyes with her dark ones. The Organic Daughter had an ability Lucifer shared, the power to see through people, no matter what masks they used. Stare into their hearts and souls. Her past rebellion against Heaven was based, among many other reasons that angels pretended to be virtuous and purer than other beings when they were not. Hypocrisy as it finest. But this angel…

Inclined her head slowly, Alexiel’s features softening and acknowledging Aziraphale but did not smile back. Not yet. With her ring hand, she motioned him to take a seat while she spoke: “Greetings, Aziraphale. I’m Alexiel. Thank you for coming.” Her name was truly ironic. Alexi meant protector, savior, messiah, while El implied the much cliché divine sanctified presence. Protector of God, exactly the opposite expected for the great fallen of Heaven. “Lucifer,” she said with coy voice, shooting a glance to her companion. “Bring the bakery to the table if you finished it.” Turning around, Alexiel hid her smirk after demanding that favor.