asgardchrysalis | ( OPEN W/ CLOSED PROMPTS AVAILABLE )

( one of the biggest obstacles that aziraphale has come to face with being trapped in this place is the state of his body. he’s an ethereal being temporarily rendered mortal and being mortal required upkeep. so, so much upkeep. conceptually, he has always known what humans require (food, water, sleep, meaningful relationships), but it’s one thing to know it intellectually and another thing entirely to actually experience it. prior to this, he has never slept in his millions of years of existence and now his body cries for every couple of hours. he’s also never had a meal for anything other than the pleasure of it.

it’s. . . frustrating to put it lightly. the change in physical needs.

part of him is more than convinced that if he can just continue to power through it, he can eventually start teaching this body of his to operate on less and less sleep. unfortunately, it has not been working thus far. he has been frequently falling asleep in the library chairs, smearing ink against his fingers and face as he works on trying to improve the library’s collection.

it’s the same case today where he has fallen asleep on the couch within the odinhaus, sitting up with his face pressed into his hands. )

[Isha, on her own account, loves her beauty sleep. She has to maintain an appearance of beautifully cold and aloof, yet mysteriously magnetic after all. It was hard work.

Yet, she was no stranger to living off minimal sleep. When it came down to it, she could pull multiple successive all-nighters. She'd rather not, of course, she wasn't 20 anymore, but it wasn't unusual.

Isha had been on and off working on plans with Peter regarding electricity. As is, she's strolling into the library, hoping to be enlightened somehow when her eyes slowly pause on the figure of one single Sir Fell looking, well.

Like that.

She frowns as she sweeps her way towards him. She waves her hand quickly in front of him and, no, that does nothing at all.]

Hello?

[Her voice is at least soft and considerate of his nap.]

( unfortunately, it hadn't truly mattered how low she kept her voice. it was still enough to abruptly jolt aziraphale from his nap, too uncomfortable to allow himself to actually fall into a deep sleep. almost anything at all would be enough to wake him. it just turns out that today it is another charge of odin, isha.

he jumps a little as he wakes, hands falling away and gaze snapping upward. )

Oh! What? Sorry, I—Miss Isha?

( was he asleep? again? shame. )

[She pulls back her hand wicked fast and takes a step back to give him some space to comprehend existence.]

Bloody hell, you startle easily. Are you alright, sir? [Isha squints slightly.] Have you slept at all?

No, no. Not usually, I don't believe.

( defending himself even though there is no real need to.

then he shakes his head. )

But, I am fine. I appreciate you asking. I'm just. . . tired.

( he did not answer whether or not he had been sleeping. )

[She frowns despite herself and her air of extreme nonchalance.]

You hardly seem fine. You should get yourself to bed and have a proper rest. You don't seem built for all-nighters, no offense.

[Is it even supposed to be offensive? Who knows, really. Isha only knows that she'd prefer to avoid long nights if possible. Her beauty is one of her tools and beauty requires plenty of sleep.]

Is that offensive?

( he wonders out loud, mildly curious about it. was there a pride in such a thing? )

That would be normal, wouldn't it? But when are you supposed to sleep? I get so tired so fast here. It only takes hours!

( not quite the question a normal person would ask, but he sounds so frustrated by it. )

[Isha narrows her eyes slightly at the absurdity of the questions and sentences combined.]

Are you not familiar with the concept of sleep? You sleep at night if that's your thing and, generally, you do get tired after several hours. Sometimes less hours, sometimes more. You can even nap, if you like.

( at current, he's so exhausted that he forgets that he ought to lie about it. he knows he should make up a reason, but his thoughts feel more like radio static than anything coherent. )

Not intimately. I didn't need to sleep before.

( the implication being before here.. )

But must this be done every night? How on earth do you get anything done?

[Ishas eyebrows shoot up, in a surprise that really shouldn't be a surprise at all anymore.]

Don't tell me you're some bloody vampire that got devampirized or something just as stupid. I am not a font of free blood before you ask.

[She sits now in whatever area the couch happens to be free of Sir Fell's body.]

Yes, sleep should ideally happen every night for about 7 hours or so, though apparently there's other more optimal ways to rest. We end up using the other 17 or so hours to work or drink or socialize or whatever. There's always a discussion of time versus productivity.

E-excuse me?

( it's his turn to be surprised, face jerking towards her to try and gauge whether or not she had said that in jest. honestly, he's not that sure. she does seem to be serious enough about it, which is more worrisome than he would care to admit. aren't vampires usually more . . . dour sort of fellows? )

No, no, no. Nothing of the sort.

( waving a hand as if that might dismiss the thought from her head. )

Actually, I don't even believe those are real things. Just tall tales made up by humans years ago when faced with something they couldn't quite explain—( he's rambling. he should stop. ) No. I eat food just as you do.

( except now way more often and not entirely just for fun, but he wasn't going to start splitting hairs here. but he nods, intently listening to her as if this were new information to him. he's known of it, but this would be the first time it'd been confirmed for him. )

It doesn't sound like you're afforded much free time.

( it’s meant only to be a quick visit back to his room in the odinhaus, just long enough to grab a couple things that he had left in his assigned room and pop back out—however, when he gets there, there’s a familiar figure sitting on his bed.

ah. yes. crowley.

he supposes that makes sense. it’s been a few days since he’s last seen or spoken with him. It’s just that he’s been a little distracted by his own imaginary and self imposed tasks for the sake of trying to alleviate his case of oppressive boredom. )

Good afternoon.

( he smiles a little, trying to appear jolly and friendly. it doesn’t matter that crowley is already well aware of his actual feelings about where they are. it’s just a matter of politeness. )

Were you waiting for me long?

( at nearly any point of time during september, aziraphale can found haunting the inside of the library. most of his time is spent curled up in one of the chairs, flipping through the pages of one of the books currently within the library’s collection. if not he’s not going through the books himself, he is organising and correcting the shelves into an actual proper system as opposed to whatever mess had been happening here prior.

or perhaps there had once been a system, but with no one to attend this place, things have just gotten shoved into any old place. irritating.

additionally, during the night hours, aziraphale doesn’t concern himself with either organising or reading. Instead, he favours settling into one of the chairs to begin to write his own copies of books from his memory. if he’s learned anything about this library, it’s that the shelves are in dire need of better books and if there’s no other way, he’ll see to it himself. it isn’t as if he currently has anything more pressing to do with his time. )

Libraries were something of an enigma to Ariadne. After all, Alastrians had an oral tradition, that was generally passed on through the bloodline. As a child, she'd been completely baffled by the idea of having to write down a history. Still, as she grew older--proud in her abilities to read and write--she started to understand the appeal. Not so much in histories. One Elf nation rising after another. No, more about the people who wrote to better understand the world around them.

Books about plants were, of course, her favorite.

Unfortunately, as she still couldn't quite master the color of her own skin, she tried to avoid the library at its busiest, during the day. And her nighttime trips were shrouded in shadow and in blankets, draped over her head and around her face, making her look more like a walking bag than an actual person.

Still. It was worth it.

She'd actually uncovered a fascinating book about flowers, and decided to take another look at it that evening. But she was surprised, when she walked in, to see a funny-looking humanoid there, sitting at a table, writing. Were you allowed to write in a library? The missionaries had always frowned on it. But then, they'd been trying to control rowdy students, drawing crude pictures in the margins of the books. This was different, somehow.

"Hello?" she said tentatively, pausing in the doorway.

In the evening hours, the library was pleasantly quiet. No noise, no sounds of chattering voices—nothing more than the soothing creaks and groans of the old building. It made him wonder just how long any of these building had stood here and how long they had been empty before any of the Wanderers started filtering in. He'd like to ask, but he's not been too enthused to have any sort of extended conversation with Odin yet.

Perhaps later.

Another time, another time when he's a little less sore about the overall situation and "god house" fiasco. He's sure that Odin might actually have plenty of interesting insight. For now, he'll keep all of his wondering to himself and focus himself on finding busywork to help make the days pass a little easier. At the moment, he's working on rewriting one of his favourite novels while he has the peace to do so.

Or he was, anyway. When the sound of footsteps reach him, he's already glancing upward to greet the face of the newcomer. Blessedly, she speaks first. Oh. Is she a little nervous?

"Good evening," he welcomes her, offering her a smile as he pushes up the frames of his glasses.

Ariadne immediately dipped into a curtsy. It was demure and quite courtly. She knew that rank seemed to mean less here than in other places--Josie had gone out of her way to explain the concept of democratic chairs to her--but it was easy to fall back into old patterns. Especially when she knew how she could be perceived. It felt like her best course was always to remain as demure, cultured, and submissive as possible.

Not exactly a new story. But a different one, considering how hard it was for her to hide her skin here.

"I'm sorry, my lord," she said, rising again. She had a feather-light voice. The voice of someone who had once trained as a singer. Crisp pronunciation, but lyrical. Lilting. "I don't mean to intrude. I just wanted to look at a book."

Demure.

Cultured.

Submissive.

May the gods help her if that particular recipe ever failed her. So far, it hadn't. But the mathematical probabilities were impossible to read.

Ah.

Well now, that's not something that Aziraphale has seen in many years. That sort of polite greeting had long since fallen out of fashion and regular usage. He wonders if this young woman as well is from a time long since past. There's a quick lift of his eyebrows that belay his surprise, but he quickly makes a loose twirling gesture with his hand to welcome her inward.

"Oh, no. Nothing of the sort, my dear girl. This is a public space. You are more than welcome to it," he tells her. His voice is nothing if not warm and gentle, clearly unbothered by her presence. If anything, he seems to be a little charmed by her behaviour.

He couldn't remember the last time someone called him "lord". He'd have laughed a little, but he would hate to offend or embarrass her.

"Please. If you would."

There was a paradox to Ariadne's fears. On the one hand, she'd been taught her whole life to be afraid of Humans and humanoids. On the other hand, they were just so...fascinating. Inventive. Creative. Spirited. She couldn't get enough of being around them.

If it wasn't for her skin...her hair...

Asgard could be so terribly frustrating.

But at least he seemed the friendly sort. And she had to admit, he didn't exactly look like a hunter. More like...a valet, maybe. Or a castle steward. High ranking enough to have some manners, but not high enough to be snooty.

Definitely her sort of fellow.

"Oh, thank you!" she said, standing up straight. She sort of bounced. "That's very kind of you."

By this point, Aziraphale had decided to stop questioning the little things such as a person's appearance. He had already enough seen enough strangeness that he simply decided that it wasn't quite worth striking up a conversation about neither did he imagine that much of an answer could even be provided. what was anyone to say when that was normal for them? Not to mention, he had far more important things to concern himself with.

Namely, adjusting to his newfound mortality (sort of). Not that that mattered at the moment. What did matter was that there was someone in front of him who seemed genuinely excited to be in the library and that's exactly the sort of individual that he'd like to speak with.

He laughs a little at the near bounce, the sound of it quiet.

"If you don't mind me asking, what sort of book are you looking for?"

"Um, well, I found a book about plants in here the other night," she said. From what little interaction she'd had with Humans her age, she knew that wasn't the type of book she was supposed to be interested in. But then again, those had been courtier girls. And their circumstances had been very different from her own. Even before Asgard. "I've been working on a medicinal garden in Sigyn's district. With Brother Cadfael. But I don't entirely understand the soil here yet."

That was the most important part. Everyone worried about sunlight and water and nutrients. But the soil itself was always different from place to place. You had to pay attention to that. If you wanted anything to grow.

She let out a soft, little laugh. "Given the way people around here behave, it's a wonder more people don't get seriously hurt."

At the mention of plants, Aziraphale does noticeably perk up. Whatever answer he was expecting from her, it definitely wasn't that. He supposes that he would have thought that she would pick something more for entertainment as opposed to something practical and he finds himself gently nodding towards her as she speaks, hoping to make it clear that he's listening.

He points an approving finger at her, shaking it in her direction before letting his hand relax. "Oh, Brother Cadfael! We've met. Remarkable fellow," he explains. They hadn't spoken for too long, but he was good company and Aziraphale was actually fairly pleased to see a devote man of the cloth walking around. It was unfortunate, yes, because he shouldn't be here, but a relief all the same.

There's a small laugh of his own at her comment. "It's certainly a blessing, I'll say that." Then he's gesturing inward, towards the shelves of books. "If you'd like, I could help direct you towards a few more books on plants."

For her own part, Ariadne still wasn't sure how she felt about Cadfael. But so far, he'd seemed amiable enough. As was this stranger. In some oddly similar ways, actually. If only she could still pick up scents the way she used to. Maybe there would be some sort of clue.

She'd never run into such a wide variety of Humans before. They were so remarkably different and wonderful.

"That's very kind of you, sir," she said. "I would appreciate the help." She knew she was treading on dangerous ground. He might discover what she was. But Alastirans were really quite social creatures, by nature. And she dreaded the thought of spending so much time alone. "Especially on the high shelves," she added, making up her mind.

Thankfully, whatever dangerous ground that Ariadne was imagining didn't truly exist. Aziraphale couldn't be pressed to be too concerned about the differences between the individuals stranded here with him. For the most part, it was largely cosmetic, wasn't it? This place had an interesting way of placing them all on equal grounds.

He makes a motion for her to come along, beckoning. "Please, please. Follow me," he tells her as he starts walking back along the shelves. He'd come across a book just the other day that he's sure might help her out. Plucking it off the shelf, he offers it towards her.

"Ah, yes, here! This will be an excellent start." It was a fairly detailed guide written by what Aziraphale knows must have been a native. They were far too educated about the area not to be.

Then, there's a thought.

"If you don't mind me asking, are you planning on growing tea leaves as well?"

She accepted the book eagerly. Ariadne was proud of the fact that she could read and write. As a child, she'd been convinced it was a useless skill. Interesting, yes. But not useful. One of the many thing she'd been wrong about.

Well, most children made such mistakes.

Carefully, she opened the book and was pleased to see a great deal of drawings, in addition to the text. Yes, this would be very useful.

"Tea?" She glanced up at him. "I hadn't really thought about it, but I suppose there are medicinal uses for tea. Especially maiden tea." Although, giving him a once-over, she decided that he probably wouldn't need that. Abashed, she smiled. "Did you mean a specific kind?"

A quiet, little laugh bubbles out of him at there. No, he wouldn't have any use for maiden tea. He does appreciate the suggestion for the sake of her having put some thought into the notion however.

"Well, I must be upfront. My interest is purely for enjoyment," he explains. There was nothing noble or medically helpful about his request. Well, unless you might consider something like being good for the heart and soul as medically helpful. Humans were like that, weren't they? Healed through strange things like that?

"The tea here just isn't as good as I am used to. It's a bit disheartening."

He pauses, considering.

"But I am not sure if you would be familiar with the same tea blends as I would be?"

"Probably not," she admitted. She saw no evidence that they were from the same world. It was possible, of course. But...

Well, she'd been thinking about the probabilities. As she got to know more and more people in Asgard, she got a better sense of who fit where. And so far, she was the only representative of Valeria. Both a blessing and a curse. It seemed like new arrivals were shaking into certain categories.

But that was another conversation for another day.

"You could, of course, ask for speeds to grow the tea of your homeworld," she said. "But from my experience, the seeds are only half of the story. The soil is another part. And I don't think we can change it here."

For as much as Aziraphale was deeply sceptical about the concept of other worlds and places, he was also extremely interested in hearing all about it. He was keen to know exactly what these other worlds were like as well as the people who inhabited them.

"Did you drink much tea where you're from?" he asks, mostly because that seems like an important question. As far as the topic of tea went, he would least like to know whether or not it was something that interested her as well. Or perhaps she would only be interested it from the standpoint of trying to grow it? Although, that question was certainly not quite as important as the one that he was about to ask.

"You did say something about the soil already. Have you been able to successfully grow anything yet?" He asks, curious towards the answer. She had confessed that she had been struggling with figuring it out.

She shook her head a little bit. "Tea is a bit too aristocratic for me," she admitted. Not that she had anything against it. It was pleasant enough. But who had the time to wait for it to steep when there was work to do?

Fortunately, he gave her an out to avoid going into details about that.

"And I have gotten a little bit growing," she said. "Right now, I'm working raspberry bushes. They're extremely delicate. But also a good test. If I can get those to grow, I can get anything going."

Unfortunately for her, her words only manage to pique his curiosity further. He would love to inquire a little further about the state of her growing raspberry bushes and whether or not he might be able to convince her to provide him with a sample of them, but he's already decided that this topic takes priority. He'll wind his way back to it again shortly.

"Aristocratic? Tea?" He questions. Was it not simply a part of life regardless of class or status? It seemed so strange to think of it as such. He remembers a time when it wasn't quite like that (when was it? the 18th century?), but nevertheless.

"Is that to say that you don't enjoy it?"

Ariadne shrugged, helpless and chagrined. "It's fine, I suppose. Honestly, I've always felt it tastes just like...grass. Stewed grass. I know people used to put sugar in it, but our sugar supplies were rationed when I was very, very young."

Even in the palace. And anyway, if there was only a little bit to go around, she didn't want to use it up in the hot leaf water.

"I'm not...really a connoisseur."

Unfortunately for Aziraphale, Alice has set about organizing the library books in a certain way as well. But whereas the angel's is most certainly a logical reason that actually matches a real library, Alice's is a bit more... practical... well, practical for her. Being small and tiny does not help with things when they are on high shelves. So she's gone about the whole of the library and put some of her favorite books, or at least the ones with anything in them, on a shelf where she can reach everything.

She then organized the books in a way that made sense to her. First she organized the books by the types they were, poetry, riddles, myths and legends, all had different shelves. Then, after they had been sorted in such a manner, she did not sort them alphabetically, but how much she enjoyed them, with the ones she liked the most being the easiest to get out of the shelf.

However, it was now the fifth time her perfectly organized little shelves that were as tall as her but still easy to reach from top to bottom, were empty.... again.

"Wherever do you go!" she mourned to empty bookshelves, looking back towards the bookcases and wondering how long it would take her this time to get all her books again.

"I daresay, if you can fly or you don't like the way I've gone about organizing, please do tell me that instead. I would have asked if you could speak but you've never said anything so I didn't wish to assume." This was not such an odd conversation for Alice to have with inanimate objects, especially when you considered what all she's been through and has dealt with. However, it might be very easy for Aziraphale to mistake her speaking to the him and not her missing books.

Absolutely maddening.

The methods that Alice has been employing for organising and straightening up the books is absolutely maddening. It hadn't taken him long to realise that it must surely be on purpose, but he had not factored in the idea that someone might be doing it for the sake of making sure that the books were at a particular height. No, he's been unable to see past his own irritation about it and has most definitely begun to develop very strong opinions about the person that he imagines to be behind it. He thinks that it must be someone with a need to keep this set of books away from the others for reasons that he's yet to figure out.

Perhaps, it is simply distaste? Spite? Maybe they're simply random? He wouldn't be surprised if it were so. It would most likely be one of the least strange things to happen to him since he arrived here. Actually, stranger than that is the small voice that echoes through the library. One that seems to be complaining about him to him, which is nothing short of extremely rude.

"Pardon me," he says into the room once he's gotten up from his seat. He slowly walks over towards the source of the voice, glancing down at her from the brim of his glasses.

"Young lady, are you saying that you're the one responsible for pulling the books out of order?"

Alice had not expected to hear or even meet anyone else, mostly because she had been alone so often in the library. So, when she heard a voice, she practically jumped out of her skin and quickly turned around to look at the source. She bit her lip. Oh dear, had he heard her? Worst still, had he thought she was talking to him and not the books?

"Oh! Ah, forgive me, sir! I had not known anyone else was here," she pulled at her fingers. Oh, right. She offered a curtsy in greeting. "How do you do, sir?" she tried to offer a smile but his tone suggested he was a bit cross with her.

When he asked her question, she realized why. Was he the librarian?

"Oh ah, yes sir, I... suppose I am. But they're not out of order, they very much have an order, sir," she offered gently still pulling at her fingers. "They're in the order of what's inside them. Picture books, poetry, riddle books, fairytales and the sort, and then they're in the order of which ones I like best from which ones I like less, or haven't gotten a chance to read but looked very interesting." She tilted her head. "Are you the librarian, sir?"

Now, wasn't that quite the question? Aziraphale hadn't really thought of it that way. This was more of less just a way to better occupy his time, but for all intents and purposes, it wouldn't be inaccurate to refer to him as such. He just doesn't know whether or not he should give voice to that. Wouldn't that lock him into such a role?

Well, he supposes that he doesn't mind.

"Something like that," he says after a moment, deciding that it would be best to let this young lady assume as she'd like. While it didn't make too much of a difference, he does know that there is a folly in assuming roles not assigned to oneself.

"My name is A.Z. Fell or Mr. Fell if you would prefer." His tone softens as he introduces himself, offering her a polite nod in way of greeting. He steps forward then, taking a better look at the shelves that she had curated for herself through her own method of organisation—one that Aziraphale still didn't like despite her explanation for it. It's essentially just a favourite section, isn't it?

"Do you spend a lot of time reading?"

"How can you be something like a librarian?" she tilted her head. Unfortunately for Aziraphale, Alice was the sort to ask all sorts of questions about... well, everything. If a human could embody anything, then she was the embodiment of curiosity. At the offering of his name, she nods her head.

"It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Fell. My name is Alice Liddell, how do you do?" she offered with a curtsy as was proper. She moved back when he moved closer. Not intimidated but not wanting to upset him by being close, he seemed the sort to like his space... or perhaps not, she wasn't sure. But it was always best to give people their space, she supposed, until you became closer with them and they were alright with having their personal bubble invaded.

She looked up at him and nodded.

"Oh ah, yes, sir. Well, not all my time, sir. Some of my time is spent getting the books down from the shelves. I ah... I do try to clean up the shoe prints." If he were something of a librarian, he likely wouldn't like that she so often has to climb the tallest of shelves since there is no ladder to be had... at least, not that she was aware of and she had looked. "I've never tipped over the shelves or anything of the sort."

Edited 2019-11-02 22:06 (UTC)

That initial question is left unanswered. He would rather not explain that particular detail to a child. There wasn't much merit, if any at all, in her listening to him complain about his struggles to fill his time with anything meaningful. She was just a child and she certainly had her own trials to face as someone so young whom had been dragged here with the rest of them. Once again, he wonders what anyone was thinking in terms of how people got brought here.

"Alice Liddell? What a lovely name!" he tells her, a real edge of delight in his voice. What a novel naming choice! Alice Lidell! He would ask if she were aware that she shared the same name as a very popular book character, but he supposes that she must already know. She does seem to be fairly well-read, after all.

Which is a bit of the current problem, now isn't it?

"I certainly don't want to discourage you from visiting as you'd like, but I cannot have you climbing the shelves." For numerous reasons, but most notably that she might seriously injure herself or get shoe prints on the books themselves. It wouldn't take much for her to have a small slip. "I'll have to see about a ladder or something of the sort," he says afterwards, mostly to himself.

However, in the meantime, he was going to need her to stop what she was currently doing.

"Do you think we might be able to compromise about your re-shelving habits? Perhaps change your section to just the books you're setting aside to read later?"

"Oh, ah, thank you, Mr. Fell! I'm the littlest Liddell of the Liddell family," she smiled, always very happy with saying that because of how fun it was to say and how it all rolled off the tongue. But oh, if only he knew.

A compromise was very important, it was the foundation of many things. So when Aziraphel offered one, Alice was keen to take him up on it.

She looked towards the shelves. If he was going to get a ladder, then she wouldn't need to worry about climbing the shelves and keeping her books in one place so she didn't have to keep going back up and down in such a dangerous way. She turned back to the angel and nodded with a smile.

"I think that would be possible, Mr. Fell," she offered with a smile. "I was about to read a book of poems by Mr. T.S. Eliot! It's all about kitties! Have you read it? Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats. I didn't know a possum was so knowledgeable about cats! But then, I've never met a possum!"

Alice has continued to prove herself to be nothing but a charming young lady. He almost feels a little regret for getting so short with her just moments ago, but that was then and this is now. He offers her a genuine smile as he taps a finger against one of his cheeks as if in contemplation.

"Well, littlest Lidell of the Lidell Family, did any of your family members accompany you here?" He doesn't imagine that they had, not when it seems more common for individuals to show up here on their own, but he personally hopes that there is someone to act as her guardian.

He nods at her question. He is rather familiar with that particular book as well as the strange work that later inspired. Best not to mention that one, however. "I have. Although, quite some years ago. But I don't believe the name is in reference to a real possum."

At his question, she pressed her lips together and shook her head, her eyes falling to the floor.

"No... not even Dinah came with me, she's my cat, you see." She took a deep breath, as if pushing down all the worry she must be causing her family and the fear about being alone, STILL without them, has caused in her. "But... they... they could arrive, couldn't they? After all, so many people from the same place all seem to arrive together, so... so I could have them come eventually." She's trying her best to keep a stiff-upper-lip, but she not-so-secretly has to wipe at her cheeks a little quickly. She sniffles and then looks up, smiling.

She was grateful to focus, instead, on the poet.

"Oh... I thought perhaps it was just a very smart possum... whatever a possum may be," she offered and then... "Do you know what a possum is, Mr. Fell? That is, is it an animal? Or is it a vegetable or mineral of some sort?" because he said real possums, so clearly it existed, being from England and seven, however, Alice has never encountered one.

( P E N D I N G. )

[ Mary's days have been quite busy of late, but frankly, that's the way she's liked them. Working on setting up the farms in Sigyn's district has been just the distraction that she needs in order to not think about Jim and some of the other friends she's made here going off to fight the undead. She usually ends her days falling into bed with exhaustion before getting up early to do it all over again.

Now that the farms seem to be moving along at a productive pace, Mary's helping to prepare care packages for the new arrivals to Asgard, as well as, she hopes, to welcome home those who went off to battle. She has a box half full when she looks up at the man packing another box nearby. ]

What about tea? Ought we include some?

( by this point, aziraphale has started to feel like he's going stir crazy. he was hoping to have found a way out of here by now, thinking of each day as if it might be his last before finding himself back in the comfort of his bookshop. of course, that hasn't happened and he's no closer to an escape than he was on the first day that he had arrived.

everything in between has been a way of trying to fill in the gaps, keeping himself busy enough to help deal with his current set of circumstances. it isn't quite a fix, but it is certainly effective. it had almost been a blessing to be asked to help with care packages. he didn't know many people here, but the thought was quite lovely. they all deserved to come back to a little something, didn't they? the threat seemed quite great from all of the information that has been passed along.

he pauses when he hears the woman near him speak, then he's nodding towards her immediately. )

Oh, yes, yes. Certainly. Nothing to help lift the spirits like a little tea.

( fishing around, he grabs a hold of a small box and offers it towards her. )

I believe there ought to be some here.

[ If Aziraphale manages to find a way home, he better tell everyone else how he did it before he disappears. Mary's own experiences here have been mixed. There are some things she despises, but other things she enjoys. Overall though, she wouldn't miss a chance to go home if one was offered to her.

Mary takes hold of the offered box and starts to go through it. ]

Thank you. [ She sighs. ] I wish the tea here was a bit better. Perhaps we might be able to cultivate it at one of the farms.

( on the occasion that he finds a way out of this strange prison, he will most certainly leave a note. although, it is questionable on how easily said note might be found when he has yet to use the network at all.

he nods at her when she speaks, immediately in agreement. )

You are quite right. Most everything we have is quite dreadful and so bland! It almost feels like a punishment.

( a flick of the hand. )

It would be an immeasurable relief if we could cultivate something of a higher quality. Oh, and the food—

[ Mary looks up at him and gives a slight shrug. ]

We're trying to work on it. My experience with farms is more with livestock than crops. I'm certainly going to look into tea plants though.

[ After placing some bags of tea in the box, she smiles at him. ] My name is Lady Mary Crawley. And I must say, I agree about the food here. It leaves a lot to be desired.

[ There are quite a few aspects of life here that leave a lot to be desired. ]

( well! that's actually a delight to hear. )

Oh, now is that so? I believe that's some of the better news I've heard lately. We could at least do with some more quality tea blends.

( at least someone around here know what's important and should be prioritised. he smiles back at her, warm and bright, despite his complaining from just seconds ago. )

It's lovely to meet you, Lady Crawley. I'm so sorry it's under these circumstances.

( quite the name as well. what were the odds of that? )

My name is A.Z. Fell.

How do you do, Mr. Fell. [ She reaches over to shake his hand, not knowing that she happens to bear a very similar name to a certain demon. ] Sadly, I don't know the first thing about cultivating tea, but I'm sure I can learn, right? Maybe there's something in Odin's library.

[ It was a huge library, so it would make sense that there would be some books on plants. Maybe it would be Asgard specific as to how to obtain and grow a tea plant. ]

( his grip is solid and politely firm as he takes her hand to accept her offer of a handshake. )

Oh, I assure you that there are more than plenty of texts regarding the matter. I could set some aside for you for your next visit if you would like?

( although, he largely knows about this through helping someone else search for books about plant raising. )

I spend quite a bit of time there.

( OPEN W/ CLOSED PROMPTS AVAILABLE )

( MID SEPTEMBER - ODINHAUS )

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( LATE SEPTEMBER - ODINHAUS - CROWLEY )

( ANYTIME SEPTEMBER - LIBRARY )

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did you know if you don't hit post the other person doesn't get your tag

Whoops!

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( EARLY OCTOBER )

Later in October

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