"There is NOTHING snakelike about me!" Aziraphale insists, the urgent shrillness in his voice only a bothersome side effect of the fear he's still working to tamp down.
"Ssso, what, then," says Orisa. "You demand a do-over? Come off it. Whatever makes the decision, it'sss already been made. Or are you that keen to deny your own sssssoul?" Aziraphale is fairly certain she emphasized that particular hiss on purpose. She looks at Crowley, and if a snake could grin, she would. "Orisa," she says. "Pleased to meet you in living color, as it were."
"Soul?" repeats Aziraphale in mild confusion. But he - that's not how he works, either of them, how could - maybe that's just what she's calling it, and the concept itself is more esoteric. Must be that, he thinks, vaguely uncomfortable.
And compounding that vague discomfort is the way Orisa and Crowley are engaging with one another, with an alarming undercurrent of familiarity, not quite the way he and Crowley are, but... much more direct. More the way Crowley acts. Or perhaps, if 'soul searching' is a thing we're doing now, or soul introduction at least, perhaps more like Aziraphale thinks, deep down, the various parts he keeps safely tucked away. That's actually worse. This is an outrage.
"Stop that," he says, to both or either of them, flustered and still very afraid. He looks up at the bird, desperate for a diversion. She is lovely, and so far much easier to talk to. "You there, come down here, let's have a look. What's your name?"
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"Ssso, what, then," says Orisa. "You demand a do-over? Come off it. Whatever makes the decision, it'sss already been made. Or are you that keen to deny your own sssssoul?" Aziraphale is fairly certain she emphasized that particular hiss on purpose. She looks at Crowley, and if a snake could grin, she would. "Orisa," she says. "Pleased to meet you in living color, as it were."
"Soul?" repeats Aziraphale in mild confusion. But he - that's not how he works, either of them, how could - maybe that's just what she's calling it, and the concept itself is more esoteric. Must be that, he thinks, vaguely uncomfortable.
And compounding that vague discomfort is the way Orisa and Crowley are engaging with one another, with an alarming undercurrent of familiarity, not quite the way he and Crowley are, but... much more direct. More the way Crowley acts. Or perhaps, if 'soul searching' is a thing we're doing now, or soul introduction at least, perhaps more like Aziraphale thinks, deep down, the various parts he keeps safely tucked away. That's actually worse. This is an outrage.
"Stop that," he says, to both or either of them, flustered and still very afraid. He looks up at the bird, desperate for a diversion. She is lovely, and so far much easier to talk to. "You there, come down here, let's have a look. What's your name?"