temptationaccomplished: (every little thing she does is magic)
Aziraphale ([personal profile] temptationaccomplished) wrote in [community profile] tramitem_log2020-04-01 01:34 am

ᴹʀ. ₐ.ᶻ. Fₑˡₗ's Aᴍᴀ𝓏ɪɴ𝓰 Aₚʀᶦʟ ᴇᴠᵉₙᴛ Cₐₜ𝒸ₕ₋ₐₗₗ ₗₒ𝓰

(Well. Not really amazing. I tried.)

Who: Aziraphale/Mr. Fell and OPEN
What: Oot & Aboot. Random encounters of the Aziraphalean kind.
When: April 1st-5th, the Truth or Lie event. Aziraphale is forced to tell the TRUTH.
Where: Various Locations, mostly Manhattan-adjacent since that's where he lives.
Rating/Warnings: Uhhh. ?? Warnings for witchcraft and witchery?

Mr. Fell goes to the NYC Public Library

Armed with his reading glasses, his book-bag, folders for organizing, a legal pad, and change enough for many, many xerox copies, he stationed himself nearest he could to the philosophy and religion sections... And set to work.

In short order, he had amassed a stack of books on various topics surrounding the art, history, mythology, and practices surrounding alchemy and witchcraft in Europe and North America. Several photocopies, post-its, and highlighings later, he had tangented into reading about Matthew Hopkins, about a James Stewart film, and about the definition of a warlock according to current iterations of a fascinating tabletop roleplaying game.

Research was going terrifically. By which I mean it was utterly frustrating.

Memories had led him to believe this was magical in nature, but nothing in any of the books were exactly what he had been doing. He had recreated some of the content[1] onto notes which were cluttering the table. A significant portion of the text wasn't in English, nor Latin, but the word Sundering appeared multiple times. The sigils varied, but there were two repeated independent of anything else in his notes: a simple glyph and a more winding shape doubling back onto itself.

He wasn't sure what Sundering ultimately was, but that appeared to be what he had been trying rather desperately, passionately to do. And he had been trying not to get caught doing it. Which was worrying, because... to sunder, by definition, seemed rather alarming.

(Later he would treat himself to a cupcake at the attached bakery and try not to think too hard about the fact that he was going to try it anyway.)


For now, though, he had his nose turned down to his bag in an urgent search and hadn't even bothered to look up to greet the newest occupant of the table: "Terribly sorry, but I seem to find myself without a pen. May I borrow one of yours?"




Mr. Fell takes a walk (after a truth-telling)

In a moment of undesirable candor, he had admitted that he was NOT sleeping well, had been accosted by men in suits, and was pretty sure he was some kind of wizard in another life.

Bridget laughed. "You've cracked. The paint fumes have finally gone to your head." He would have said more, insisted he wasn't kidding (and why? Why did he feel so suddenly free with this information? To Bridget of all people), but she had waved him off, blowing a stream of smoke from her upturned lower lip before fanning it away. "Get some fresh air, smoke a joint, get laid. Go see a show. Do whatever it is the kids do these days. You'll be fine."

She pushed a cigarette on him despite his protest of: "I haven't in ages," and then snuffed out her own with the toe of her boot.

"Then you're due. Look, I better get back in there, do the rounds, thank them all for attending, et cetera. Like I said, you'll be fine. It's a ...late midlife crisis or something."

Which left Aziraphale alone on the curbside at dusk among the dwindling crowd of gallery attendees, fidgeting with the cigarette and wholly without a lighter or match.

A walk would do him some good.





Mr. Fell goes to the pub

It was late evening and friends had cancelled, so he was alone under the reddish amber glow of the low-ceiling pub, enjoying the atmosphere. It was one of those places that looked like it had history, and did. The building and original establishment pre-dated Aziraphale's own grandfather and had once been a working-man's pub until sometime after Prohibition.

He liked it. The place felt like a pub should: kind of dark, with the smell of old tobacco and aged alcohol and wood. There was a hint of sawdust on the floor. It had billiards. It had ambiance. If it had stopped there, one might have called it charming and quaint...a bit old-fashioned, not unlike Aziraphale himself.

Instead it was cozy, cultural, with posters and flyers from now and ages past; it blurred a line between antique and avante garde. A little seedy, a bit questionable, but not boorish. Intimate but a bit loud. Nothing glitzy or fashionable or cold. Nothing too pretentious or corporate or sleek.

And the bartender wasn't half bad to look at either.





Mr. Fell ____ (Ok, so I didn't want this to get tooooo long and scare people off)

- Goes to lunch! He loves to eat.
- Buys wine! He needs to replenish after that "Mr. Fell Gone Wild" network post last month (T_T)
- Visits the cafe! And searches for a new place to find masterful scones because Anthony made the last place awkward.
- Rides the subway!/Catches a cab! Maybe even rides his bicycle!
- Make your own or suggest a personal starter!






[1] The circles resembled, for lack of easier comparison, something out of a Japanese anime that Aziraphale does not know about, but was widely popular among certain social groups in the mid-to-late 2000s, so we will assume the audience has familiarity with them and won't go into further detail. (Unrelated, but interesting, a purely meta find.)

* (Aziraphale had himself a handful of friends, colleagues, and acquaintances who classified themselves as forms of modern pagans, but aside from what he could get away with asking under the guise of "purely academic inquiry" and small-talk, he was hesitant to divulge to any of his social groups anything about the Bureau or this whole bloody mess he'd found himself wrapped up in. If nothing else, he thought it rather rude to equate whatever ridiculous fiction he had been doing in the memories with the actual practices they performed. Also, respect and prudence aside, he was simply embarrassed. So asking them was rather out of the question, not that any of them would have any idea what a Diatu was.)
serpentinthegarden: (Always with shades)

[personal profile] serpentinthegarden 2020-04-10 05:23 pm (UTC)(link)
Tittering. Mr. Fell was tittering. Not with a barely suppressed laugh but verbally, just saying anything that seemed to come to mind. Anthony watched the display with wry amusement as he kicked down the stand and worked at freeing himself from his helmet. He had never seen anyone carry on quite like that before and oddly enough it seemed to stir some sort of barely remembered feeling. He couldn't put a name on the emotion but it was endearing watching the stuffy little fellow figuratively letting his hair down. He looked so happy, almost glowing... Anthony might even have called it cute so long as no one was around to hear it.

Anthony's helmet was strapped down to the seat and as soon as Mr. Fell's was removed it joined it's partner on the bike. Mr. Fell was right. The small establishment did look quaint. It was one of those hidden gems, a small business tucked away in a very narrow space which some one had managed to turn into something special through their ingenuity and skill.

"Outdoor seating work for you?"

He smiled as he took up one of the outdoor chairs and reached for one of the menus conveniently placed in the center of the table for walk ins. He had suggested crepes and there were two sorts to chose from, the more savory lunch variety or there was the sweet dessert version. It proved more difficult to chose between them than he had anticipated but he did feel he ought to order before, potentially, making things awkward between he and Mr. Fell again.

"I think... I'll go with the Scottish Smoked Salmon Crepe and a Cappuccino. It's been a while since I've been home and that feels nostalgic."
serpentinthegarden: (You are so weird)

[personal profile] serpentinthegarden 2020-04-10 09:02 pm (UTC)(link)
The waiter who had been Johnny on the Spot once they had both taken their seats wrote down the two orders and disappeared back inside.

"My father was Scottish, Mother is English. We had a little place up in Hexham. Have you heard of it? Might not have... Londoners like you don't usually travel that far north."

The menu was folded and set back onto the middle of the table as he pondered over why he had left. It wasn't a subject he spoke very much about not even with his family, but now the words fairly tumbled from him.

"I think I just wanted to get away. I had spent so long trying to do what was expected, getting into the right schools, trying not to disappoint anyone... And knowing I was going to fail at that as soon as the family found out the things I was doing in my free time... I just needed space. America seemed to be the place to go for that. There are all those road trip movies. It looked like fun."

He frowned and drew himself away from the table as he looked at Mr. Fell like the man had cast some sort of hex on him.

"I've never told anyone that before. Not even Lilith when she finally caught up with me in New York."
serpentinthegarden: (We talk together)

[personal profile] serpentinthegarden 2020-04-10 11:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Accents were like fingerprints and it had been clear from that first conversation that Mr. Fell wasn't any local New Yorker. Anthony couldn't exactly say he was surprised over Mr. Fell's admission either. Those were some of his most noticable characteristics, that he was English and that he was gayer than a clutch-purse on Tony night... Or some equally vivid description.

The complete nonjudgmental acceptance gradually softened the thousand yard stare. After all if anyone knew what it was like to not quite fit into a place it was the gay grandson of an admiral. Anyway given what he knew now, the familiarity made sense didn't it?

"I thought you would never want to speak to me again after that first time. I... Didn't really handle all this well."

Not that he thought there was a perfect way to handle being told your past lives were returning to you in dreams and violent flashes... Who could have been prepared for that?

"I'm glad I ran into you. I thought about going back to one of those meetings to find you but..."

Whatever else he might have said trailed off as their drinks were delivered to the table. Anthony managed not to say another word about it until the server had ducked back inside.

"Have you heard that some of the other people experiencing whatever this is were actually friends in thier other life?"


serpentinthegarden: (Listening)

[personal profile] serpentinthegarden 2020-04-11 03:19 am (UTC)(link)
"That must have been something. I can't imagine you drunk."

Mr. Fell seemed like he would he would always be so very prim and proper, never get drunk, never stay out after midnight... He had hidden depths!
Anthony too took a bit of his chosen crepe and while he didn't savor the meal as much as Mr. Fell had it was good. All the nostalgia of home with none of the guilt trips. The French owner was a real connoisseur of fine cuisine.

"And... ye-yeah."

He stumbled over the words as he tried to think back on that most recent dream and how the moment had felt.

"I guess so. One doesn't usually go around asking strangers out for crepes."

He took another bite and pointed his empty fork at Mr. Fell.

"It's how I knew you would like them."
serpentinthegarden: (You are so weird)

[personal profile] serpentinthegarden 2020-04-11 04:11 am (UTC)(link)
"I should probably just tell you what the memory was. Maybe you can add something to it."

So he said as any implications about the lunch offer flew past him not unlike his counterpart who hadn't realized why the Ark would have needed two unicorn. It takes a little while for these concepts to sink in.

"I think we had some sort of disagreement. You were walking away down the road and I remember thinking I shouldn't just let you go. Everything would fall apart if you left. So I offered lunch and looked pathetic. I knew that would get you to turn around, especially once I said I owed you one, which I thought I did even though I couldn't remember how or when."

Anthony paused to lean just a little bit closer over the table.

"Now here's the part that might not make much sense. You answered, clear as anything Paris, 1793."

He paused waiting for that to sink in. He had heard a year. A very old year that didn't fit in with the 'now' or even apparently the 'then' in his dream.

"It doesn't make sense does it? I mean after that you and I walked over to a car together. A car! We couldn't have been anywhere near 1793 by then. Oh, and what a car! She was gorgeous! A 1933 3 ½-Litre Bentley! A beautiful grey color, not a scratch on her. Do you have any idea what one of those costs?"

Were Mr. Fell's eyes glazing over just a little bit at the car talk? Maybe it was just his imagination but he tried to move on with the rest of the story.

"Anyway, point is I agreed with you. The Reign of Terror, I said, then I asked if that was one of ours or one of yours. No idea at all what that could mean. Oh, and there was a cop there giving me a ticket but once his notepad exploded we were able to drive away without any trouble."

Anthony sat back, took a sip of his own drink, and scrunched his nose.

"Which is also odd when you think about it because I'm fairly certain that Bentley had a boot on the wheel. Eh, maybe he just hadn't fashioned it yet. So..."

His fork was recollected as he attempted to return to his meal but found himself watching his companion's face rather intensely again instead.

"What do you make of that?"
serpentinthegarden: (Aw paint splotch)

[personal profile] serpentinthegarden 2020-04-11 05:45 am (UTC)(link)
"I never touched him!"

The protest came between bites of crepe.

"It just... exploded on it's own, like some one put a small firecracker in between the pages, but I was on the other side of the car, in the driver's seat even, when the thing went off."

Clearly he couldn't have had anything to do with the explosion. Anthony hadn't had any experience with magic at all beyond those tragic magic shows that would occasionally appear on TV. Though he did find the one where they actually exposed the tricks to be fairly interesting it had just further proved that magic wasn't real.

"What would the 1940s look like?"

He thought it over but eventually his head gave a little shake.

"Nah, you looked exactly like you do now. I mean, even down to the tie..."
serpentinthegarden: (Quirk of brow)

[personal profile] serpentinthegarden 2020-04-11 06:45 am (UTC)(link)
Ooo misstep. Anthony exhaled and shook his head, trying his best to backpedal that it was a very old fashioned sort of look. Not even business men wore bow ties anymore.

"Nothing. They just aren't very common. It suits you though. Plaid... seems to be your color."

And it did. It had back then too, whenever that was. It had a worn in yet comfortable sort of look that entirely fit the gentleman's personality.
Mr. Fell did have the job of an art restorer and the look of a history professor so the suggestion might not have seemed as strange to him but the proposed logical reason for the date was given a long pause and a raised eyebrow.

"History Professor with a Bentley?"

What sort of teacher could afford to even look at a car as exquisite as that! He was glad when the idea didn't remain on the table for long but unfortunately it was replaced with something equally ridiculous.

"What like hat tricks, tahdah, here's a rabbit? Card tricks and getting cut in half? Pulling the scarf chain out of a sleeve until your underwear is hanging out for the audience to see?"
serpentinthegarden: (You are so weird)

[personal profile] serpentinthegarden 2020-04-11 07:17 am (UTC)(link)
"Real magic doesn't exist."

This was as far as he understood a proven fact. He had never once seen any real act of magic, never heard of anyone who had save for those few back home who claimed to be druids. The world had all kinds in it and more power to them. Anthony knew nothing about the subject at all so naturally after he stared off into the distance imagining some sort of witch's hat and broom on Mr. Fell with his snake familiar he did have to ask.

"Whats a Sundering?"
serpentinthegarden: (Lost my best friend)

[personal profile] serpentinthegarden 2020-04-11 03:58 pm (UTC)(link)
"Buddhists believe in reincarnation."

Was it Buddhists? He thought so as his mirth rather deflated, his own meal left semi-abandoned on the plate before him. He never had. You live one life and then that's it, Heaven or Hell... one certainly never came back as a fly, a cat... or a snake or anything.

"You're right. We don't know anything."

He would have left it there. Simply stared grimly into his platter of crepe, which was amazingly tasty, and just never said another word about it only today the spirit of oversharing was very strong.

"I never told you what my first memory was. Are you a religious man, Mr Fell? I am. Well, that's what happens when your family is Catholic."

Anthony reached up into the neckline of his own shirt and pulled out a small golden cross on a chain.

"Mother gave this to me when I was just a wee thing, couldn't have been more than six. She said its important to remember your faith so you know where you came from and can avoid the temptations a young boy could be faced with out there in the world. Then she said she loved me and God loved me too, I guess all parents would say that though..."

He frowned at the necklace, taking a break in his story before he found himself continuing it. This magical affect Mr. Fell had on him for truth-telling was an undeniably strong force.

"Now I'm not even sure I should go on wearing it. In my memory I was a serpent, no... THE serpent, you know the one from the garden of Eden who tempted Eve into taking the apple. I slithered out of the ground, whispered a few words into her ear and caused she and Adam to be tossed out of the garden forever."

As if Mr. Fell could throw him a lifeline, something he could hold onto to prevent his sinking under the waves he abandoned staring at the necklace to focus his pleading eyes on his companion.

"Now that can't be true, can it? Its... a story I've heard dozens of times. Maybe hundreds! It can't be real? I can't actually be Satan...??"
serpentinthegarden: (Moral argument)

[personal profile] serpentinthegarden 2020-04-11 06:20 pm (UTC)(link)
It was silly to look for hope from someone who was a complete stranger to him and yet... Anthony looked back to his necklace and gradually that burden he had been carrying all on his own began to lift.

"It should. It's been blessed."

Oh, he breathed a sigh of relief as he tucked the necklace safely back into his shirt.

"I had been so worried about all that nonsense... But you're right. That can't be what the memory meant!"

Suddenly his good humor returned and with it his appetite. His fork was collected as a beaming smile was granted to Mr. Fell.

"You're brilliant, you know that? Brilliant!"
serpentinthegarden: (We talk together)

[personal profile] serpentinthegarden 2020-04-11 07:46 pm (UTC)(link)
The way Mr. Fell said that... Well, it did leave one wondering if they had been too hard on him. He was an odd fellow but really rather adorable. One compliment and he was practically aglow with it. Maybe he didn't hear very many of them. That thought alone was enough to make one feel very apologetic.

"Sorry."

This was not a very easy word to say but as like with so much else it just tumbled out.

"I know I was against the idea before but... You think we could work together to try and figure all this out?"

"
serpentinthegarden: (We talk together)

[personal profile] serpentinthegarden 2020-04-11 10:01 pm (UTC)(link)
"I would like that. It almost feels like that memory... We could do anything if only we worked together."

He shouldn't have said that but it was the feeling, that warm hopeful, 'we can do something', sort of feeling his past self had been experiencing. It was odd now, how familiar conversations like this felt now.

"Guess I should really meet more of 'us'."

The fork played over his plate, cutting a few bites of food and lining them so that there was enough crepe and salmon to go around.

"You still going to those meetings?"

(no subject)

[personal profile] serpentinthegarden - 2020-04-12 00:57 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] serpentinthegarden - 2020-04-12 17:18 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] serpentinthegarden - 2020-04-13 02:40 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] serpentinthegarden - 2020-04-13 07:12 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] serpentinthegarden - 2020-04-13 19:51 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] serpentinthegarden - 2020-04-23 17:19 (UTC) - Expand