A little slice of eternity melts into nothing between them. This, like so many moments since the world didn’t end, is a moment not stolen but claimed—openly, indelibly and without regret. It’s written on them both, now, even without the earthly evidence of their rings. Aziraphale can feel it, even in the parts of himself that don’t inhabit this plane of existence.
For the first time in millennia, those bits of him begin to shine through again. Though his corporeal eyes stay closed, a dozen or more eyes flicker open between the layers of reality. Some are dreamy, some bright with grateful tears, but they all turn their gaze lovingly towards Crowley. It’s only the barest hint of Aziraphale’s true form, the one that exists above and between and around the things humans can understand or perceive.
He speaks without breaking the kiss, and this voice is different from his earthly one. It’s a strange music woven of a thousand tiny comforting sounds: the warm sputter of a candle flame and the whisper of a spring wind in young grass; the soft beat of waves and the calls of evening birds.
My heart was forged to love you when the stars were in their cradles, Aziraphale says, promise and praise. It will love you still when they are in their graves.
And now… a swing at trueform?
A little slice of eternity melts into nothing between them. This, like so many moments since the world didn’t end, is a moment not stolen but claimed—openly, indelibly and without regret. It’s written on them both, now, even without the earthly evidence of their rings. Aziraphale can feel it, even in the parts of himself that don’t inhabit this plane of existence.
For the first time in millennia, those bits of him begin to shine through again. Though his corporeal eyes stay closed, a dozen or more eyes flicker open between the layers of reality. Some are dreamy, some bright with grateful tears, but they all turn their gaze lovingly towards Crowley. It’s only the barest hint of Aziraphale’s true form, the one that exists above and between and around the things humans can understand or perceive.
He speaks without breaking the kiss, and this voice is different from his earthly one. It’s a strange music woven of a thousand tiny comforting sounds: the warm sputter of a candle flame and the whisper of a spring wind in young grass; the soft beat of waves and the calls of evening birds.
My heart was forged to love you when the stars were in their cradles, Aziraphale says, promise and praise. It will love you still when they are in their graves.