fandomtownies | Tuesday Very Late

Walking through the park, Tara sees a new face and heads over to say hello. Today seems to be the day for making new friends.

[He feels her approaching, and turns to look at her through his dark glasses]

Good evening, darling. What brings you out so late? And alone?

Tara grins. "A really, really good day. And you?"

Ah, I like the night. I had enough sun in Sapin to last me a long time. What, do tell, caused your good day, pet? [He offers her a cigarette]

Tara looks at the cigarette, and wrinkles her nose. "No, thank you. Where I come from, only evil people smoke." She winces. "Sorry. Um, not that you're... Okay, let's try this again. I'm Tara, and apparantly my mouth doesn't consult my brain."

I'm pleased to meet you...Tara.

[He takes a drag and mutters Hope you guess my name. He exhales, and turns and smiles at her. His teeth are striking white in the darkness, all cruelly sharp, and they glisten with wetness]

Where you are from, things exist in duality? Good and evil?

Tara starts to answer, and then stops. "That's a really good question. Actually, it's why I'm in Fandom. Let's say that where I'm from people tend to think in black and white, and I'm here to... research grey." She gestures to the bench beside him, not in the least disturbed by his teeth. "May I?"

Please do, dearest. How rude of me...you may call me Crowley. The ducks appear to be asleep or else I'd offer you a biscuit to toss while we chat. If they wake up, we'll remedy that. They always seem to be awake when my angel is with me. [He takes a deep drag and looks at the sleeping flock on the shore]

So you've come to this lovely town to understand the World, then, have you?

"Crowley." Tara sits, and cocks her head at him. "Given that this is Fandom, and Geoffrey Chaucer is running around somewhere, I just have to ask... you're not Aleister Crowley, by any chance?"

That pompous douchebag? Blessed Virgin Mary no...he was such a fool. And an infant compared to me. If you must have more than one name, you may call me Anthony...J. Anthony J. Crowley, at your service, Tara Maclay. [He stands and makes a small bow before sitting back down]

Excuse me dearest...did you say Chaucer is here? Geoffrey Chaucer? THE Chaucer?

Tara nods, excitedly. "The very same - and from a point in his career before he wrote Canterbury Tales, which if you think about it actually explains a lot of his more revolutionary views."

I must find him...the 14th century was absolutly my least favorite century on this Earth. I shall have to buy him a pint and...reminisce.

[He takes the last drag off his ciggarette and drops it between his fett, crushing it under his shoe. When he moves his feet back, the butt is gone]

What interests you so about the ambiguities of the world, pretty?

Tara stares at the ground for a moment, and then grins. "Neat."

She looks back at Crowley. "Nothing's as simple as people think it is. Especially good people. The more a person cares about being good, the more narrow-minded they become, and the more they end up actually committing acts that could be regarded as evil. It's..." she grins wryly. "It's ironic."

That it is, precious. I have found humans to be infinitely cruel and stupid. Yet they can turn around and have more grace than all of Heaven. The irony, as I see it, lies in the fact that the same human is capable of both.

Tara nods. "And the same act can be both cruel and graceful, all at once." She looks oddly happy about the notion.

You are a crack genius! Most humans cant grasp these ideas in the slightest. This town is right brilliant, it is. [He smiles again] You might be the first human who I would invite to discuss the Ineffable with my angel and I. Besides that one girl in Tadfield. She was quite a piece of work. Witch, you know. Witches are bloody brilliant.

[He pulls out his cigarette case again and lights one with a smooth motion of his Zippo]

You're a witch. So was your mother.

"I am. And she was. A witch, as well as brilliant. Um, her, not me. I mean, I'm a witch, but I'm not..." She sighs.

"I'd love to talk with you and your angel," Tara replies. "You mean Azra, don't you? And you're a demon, right? I mean, you're obviously not human..."

Azra? Is that what he's been calling himself? That's ridiculous, I shall have to speak to him about that. Since you know so much already, poppet, I'll tell you the tale. He is Aziraphale, a Principality...a particular kind of angel. I am Crowley, a demon...of the fallen angel variety. Although I assure you, I was led astery by the wrong kind of crowd, and I didn't so much fall as saunter vaguely downward. [He drags his cigarette and looks phenomenally proud of himself]
And keep all that under your hat, pretty.

And you, Tara the Witch. You've been dead...explain to me how your return is part of the Ineffable?

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