Another Year, Another Open RP Post
May. 22nd, 2021 11:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
duckshaveears posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
faemused
Currently offering: Crowley, angel!Crowley, Haleth. Will update this if that changes. If you want one of those three, have at it.
duckshaveears posting in faemusedCurrently offering: Crowley, angel!Crowley, Haleth. Will update this if that changes. If you want one of those three, have at it.
as promised: a stab at Sleeping Beauty AU
Date: 2022-10-24 01:31 am (UTC)Sunlight, warm as a kiss, stole across Aziraphale’s pillow to dye the dark behind his eyelids rose-red. He breathed in deeply, still half caught in the cobweb of a dream, and rolled to his side to blink out at the window.
It was a little after dawn. The sun, just now cresting the tall trees at the border of the royal estate, spilled gold light into his room to soften the edges of familiar objects. Streaks of pink and violet dyed the clouds just visible at the edges of the window frame. Already it promised to be a perfect summer day, bright and vibrant.
Aziraphale almost wished it wasn’t his birthday.
Not that he wasn’t excited to be twenty-one. Twenty-one was, by every legal and social recknoning he knew, considered of an age to make one’s own decisions. And birthdays as a general rule were a great deal of fun. He simply wasn’t enthused about having to spend most of the day at a birthday party, especially not one thrown by his family. Which this one was.
The food would be divine—the royal chef always ensured that much, at least—but he didn’t look forward to the rest of it. All Aziraphale’s milestone birthdays so far had been marked with the same stifling formal atmosphere. It would be six to eight hours of stifling socializing and insipid games with other petty royals, people who didn’t know or care for him outside of his position as the heir to a small kingdom and a not-so-small fortune. His parents and attendants would be watching him like hawks to make certain he was behaving properly, not quoting too much poetry or expressing shocking opinions. Not to mention they’d all been hinting that it was high time he come to an understanding with a suitable (and suitably distinguished) person.
But maybe when night fell…
His heart turned over, the faint fog of dread lifting. Maybe after dark, he could give everyone the slip and head out to the garden. The old apple tree was about to bloom—it always blossomed and fruited later than the rest of the apples in the royal orchards—and if the moon was out, it would turn the leaves silver. There might be glow-worms winking in the dark.
Maybe Crowley would be waiting for him.
Once upon a time, there was a prince who lived in a beautiful golden cage. His parents loved him, but because a wicked faerie had cursed him as an infant, they kept him locked away to ensure the curse never came to pass. Even after the faerie responsible died in exile, they worried, and so the prince grew up well-loved and protected but not free.
[ooc: see discord for more details!!]
no subject
Date: 2022-11-15 03:29 pm (UTC)The gardens were glorious even now, in the pale pre-dawn. Crowley nodded approval as he passed beds of hollyocks, geraniums, peonies, dahlias. The estate was a proud and noble one and the gardens were expected to live up to expectations. Which they did, under Crowley's stern supervision. Well, under the supervision of the head gardener, ostensibly. But more often it was Crowley out here on his hands and knees tending all the plants and insisting that that they would thrive or else he'd know the reason why.
But the roses were the real prize of the estate. Roses of all colours: darkest red and palest whites, pink, yellow, peach, coral. Even the head gardener grudgingly acknowledged that Crowley had a rare touch with roses. For years now he'd tended them, guiding their growth, cultivating.
And now...now his triumph. Just in time. Perfect.
He had to tell Aziraphale.
Crowley glanced at the sun. The house would be awake by now--the kitchen staff rose even before under-gardeners--and Aziraphale would soon be plagued by maids, valets, all the swirl of activity that was bound to surrounded a rich entitled young man on his more important birthday. But if Crowley were determined and clever, he could surely slip in long enough to deliver his own personal birthday greeting before all the real fuss began.
And since he was indeed both determined and clever, he managed to make his way unseen to Aziraphale's window, listened under the closed shutters as someone argued with the young lord about something unimportant--socks, probably, they even had rules about socks, poor sods--and when there was a brief silence he rapped a knuckle on the wood. Two taps, a pause, and another two taps.
Once upon a time, there was a gardener who fell in love with a prince. Everything in the world should have kept them apart, all considerations of class, rank, wealth, education, taste. But even as youths they looked at each other and found they were more alike than different, and found common ground. And a seed of affection took root, grew, and began to bloom, despite growing wholly in secrecy and shade.
no subject
Date: 2022-11-17 01:12 am (UTC)“Yes, the gold waistcoat, I think. Thank you.”
Most days, he was allowed the freedom to dress himself.
“Does Father really want me to wear that jacket? It’s just that it looks a bit… military for a party, that’s all.”
For some reason, his birthday was not one of those days.
“For goodness’ sakes, no one is going to notice if my socks are tartan. These are comfortable!”
It took twice as long as usual with half a dozen extra hands “assisting” the process, picking and fussing and adjusting over his objections. Thankfully, and to Aziraphale’s immense relief, the servants were more than happy to leave him to put on his own shoes. His morning had barely begun and already he longed for peace and quiet. Some opportunity to tuck himself into an out-of-the way corner with a book, or—
Tap-tap.
Aziraphale’s breath caught.
Tap-tap.
He knew that brisk knock. He’d known it for years now. His heart leaped every time he heard it, a dizzy little jolt of affection.
Aziraphale nearly sprinted to the door to lock it, then back to the window to fling it open.
“Crowley!”
The prince’s dearest friend in the world was a gardener. And as wildflowers push apart the stones of a prison wall, so the friendship between them crept between the bars of the golden cage as it blossomed into true love, letting light and air into the prince’s life.
we have to include them being interrupted a lot please, so he can hide and be mischevious
Date: 2022-11-26 11:18 pm (UTC)YES WE DO sorry for short tag but hopefully this will move fairly quick?
Date: 2023-01-19 11:06 pm (UTC)“I look like a human profiterole,” he retorted fondly, before grabbing Crowley’s shoulders and pulling him away from the window. It was still probably too early for anyone else to spot them, and Crowley was excellent at shimmying into corners to hide, but—well, better safe than sorry, especially today. “Darling, what are you doing here? I thought we were going to meet later, after all the social nonsense.”
Probably this one needs a flurry of short tags until they're at the dancing. :)
Date: 2023-01-20 09:00 pm (UTC)His eyes darted over to Aziraphale's bed, where a large gold box rested on the counterpane. Whatever it held was no doubt rich and luxurious, a gift fit for a prince, nothing a common gardener could ever hope to match.
But also, he knew, most likely nothing Aziraphale wanted. So there was a small smile on his face as he reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a small posy of white heliotropes. "Happy birthday, angel," he said softly, holding it up for Aziraphale to take.
ooc: sorry, I somehow forgot that in the original he just comes in, whoops. And heliotropes 1) smell heavenly, and 2) symbolize endless love, and 3) look a lot like whatever Leo is carrying in that scene
Yessss. Also I assume we’re going with Gabriel and Michael as parents still?
Date: 2023-01-21 01:54 am (UTC)He reached for the flowers with the same reverence that another person might have for a fine painting or a rare jewel, though his hands lingered on Crowley’s rather than taking the present immediately.
“I’ll wear them next to my heart all day,” he began, but before he could get any further into his plans to preserve the heliotrope for good, he was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. Aziraphale nearly jumped back.
“Who is it?”
The answering voice was one of the housemaids’. “Sir, if you please, your mother would like to speak to you.”
“Bugger,” Aziraphale muttered, and gestured wildly at Crowley to find something to hide behind.
Yep sure! and as always lemme know if you want editing or we can do it later yadda yadda
Date: 2023-01-21 11:18 pm (UTC)Aaaaaand a knock on the door interrupted them, because of course it did.
Crowley took several quick steps backwards to hide behind the door itself; it was a dark corner, and if the door were open no one would be likely to see him. He wasn't a moment too soon. It swung open almost at once to admit Aziraphale's mother: Queen Michael, every inch of her regal, dignified, and neat as a pin. She didn't enter so much as make an entrance. She was, at least, smiling (not that Crowley could see it from where he lurked behind the door). "Prince Aziraphale."
Yup, ditto!
Date: 2023-01-26 10:12 pm (UTC)“Mother.” Not Mamma, not since he was very young, and certainly never mummy or anything so warm. She was, after all, a Queen, and royalty held themselves above the vulgar bits of child-rearing. But she was in a good mood, it seemed, or at least not displeased with him. Yet. “Good morning. You’re looking well.”
boomerang ;)
Date: 2023-01-27 12:21 am (UTC)Ss she spoke she moved further into the room; behind her, Crowley adopted a remarkably similar pose--head raised, nose in the air, even a creditable impression of her expression--and silently followed behind her. His eyes glinted with mischief.
"Yes, this outfit suits you very well," she said (Crowley pretended to speak at the same time). "You will do your best to be charming, won't you? It's perhaps too soon to arrange any formal engagement of any sort, but I expect you to consider your options carefully."
Crowley stopped his imitation and made a face at her back, waggling his tongue.