It's not classical ballet and thank all the infernal legions for that, to Crowley's mind. Thank all of them for the lack of any uniformity among the dancers, too. No troup of two dozen identical swan maidens in tutus following Odette around. It's Odile who has a court here rather than the Swan Queen, and Odile has surrounded herself with as varied an assortment of followers as can be imagined.
Good. Fuck uniformity. Half the interest and fun of the world is in its endless variety. Even without the more personal inducements Crowley would be enjoying this.
And it's their story. Theirs, the one Aziraphale wrote for Crowley, for them. Not exactly as the angel did it, no--it's lacking a few particular inside references, details are altered, extraneous characters around to distract, all those things. But at its heart it's the same.
She sits back in her seat, watches with open enjoyment and interest, and holds Aziraphale's hand for the entire first half. Sometimes during a moment that feels particularly relevant somehow--Odette's jump of surprise when she's found by the lake, Odile's confusion when she's offered friendship instead of fear--she'll caress Aziraphale's hand with her thumb, or hold a little more tightly, or move her leg so their knees touch for a moment. It's rare for any event they attend together to hold Crowley's attention as much as the angel himself does, but she watches without looking away once, and her smile is smaller than Aziraphale's but never fades.
When the house lights come back on Crowley raises an eyebrow at Aziraphale's broad, beaming smile (she always does, how is the angel so positively ebullient about everything, doesn't it ever get exhausting?), but she grins back. "I think you cheated a lot more with those dreams than you've let on," she says, obviously amused. "And I love that you did. Sneaky, angel, very sneaky."
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timeasmymeasure
Oh hell yes bring it ON. Crowley has no other plansyet, get her off balance enough and she won't. ;)
Date: 2019-12-21 11:35 pm (UTC)Good. Fuck uniformity. Half the interest and fun of the world is in its endless variety. Even without the more personal inducements Crowley would be enjoying this.
And it's their story. Theirs, the one Aziraphale wrote for Crowley, for them. Not exactly as the angel did it, no--it's lacking a few particular inside references, details are altered, extraneous characters around to distract, all those things. But at its heart it's the same.
She sits back in her seat, watches with open enjoyment and interest, and holds Aziraphale's hand for the entire first half. Sometimes during a moment that feels particularly relevant somehow--Odette's jump of surprise when she's found by the lake, Odile's confusion when she's offered friendship instead of fear--she'll caress Aziraphale's hand with her thumb, or hold a little more tightly, or move her leg so their knees touch for a moment. It's rare for any event they attend together to hold Crowley's attention as much as the angel himself does, but she watches without looking away once, and her smile is smaller than Aziraphale's but never fades.
When the house lights come back on Crowley raises an eyebrow at Aziraphale's broad, beaming smile (she always does, how is the angel so positively ebullient about everything, doesn't it ever get exhausting?), but she grins back. "I think you cheated a lot more with those dreams than you've let on," she says, obviously amused. "And I love that you did. Sneaky, angel, very sneaky."