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[There's a tartan patterned tin box of cookies (or biscuits, depending on your culture of origin) placed open on the duvet of a hotel room. In the middle of all the shortbread, however, is a caramel colored hognose snake. The voice that speaks is male, and very British.]

Look at you. [The snake scents the air with its tongue.] Yes, I'm very glad to see you're here as well, but did you have to hitch your ride in my tin? I'm sure they have accommodations for that sort of thing, something to keep you from freezing in the bay. You needn't ruin perfectly good biscuits. I'm not sure we can find more here. Those were from home--MY home, before all this nonsense. We'll find you an enclosure and proper food in a bit; in the meantime you have a lamp, why don't you take a nap. You snakes enjoy your naps, keeps you out of trouble.

[Aziraphale's face comes into view. He appears to be a 50ish year old white male, with a cherubic face and upturned nose, and a head of pale blond curls. He looks like an angel. He's also tired; this has been a day and he has just recently arrived.]

Up to his old tricks, I see. Terribly sorry about him--somehow he always manages to hit just enough buttons to do something awful to these devices. Surprised it works at all since he seems to be powerless now. But since I have you all here:

I'm looking for someone. A, um. A friend of mine: [A smile that cannot be contained] tall, roguishly handsome and whip-thin, with red hair. Probably wearing sunglasses. He goes by the name Anthony Crowley.

If anyone should see him, would you be so kind as to let him know-- [Someone has to decide what name to use now. Mr. Fell is the default when talking to humans. Aziraphale is his name. So the choice he does make is telling, even if it's only telling to the person who it matters to.] --his Angel is looking for him. I would be ever so grateful.

[A deep breath] Right, so.

Camelot. It's changed a great deal since I last saw it.

Miss Redfield has already asked about good food, so I won't repeat her inquiries. But I would like to know if there are any good libraries or bookshops, and what if any additional resources one might provide about this world and its culture?

Thank you.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Well, I wouldn't say it was exactly like the stories... exactly. Geoffrey embellished a lot and Mallory did NOT listen to my suggestions. It was more, ah, historical. I was sent to foment peace and counteract the wiles of the evil Black Knight--very evil, him, always sowing seeds of discord and tempting the knights into battle and all that. Troublesome, really. And, uh I remember a lot of tourneys and uncomfortable suits of armor--wonderful feasts, though. Arthur hosted some absolutely glorious feasts with mutton and wild boar and all sorts of game birds. Oh and the mead. There was excellent mead (haven't had a good mead in a while).

Right, where was I?

That's simply incredible, sir!

Oh, and you're looking for your handsome friend, Mr. Crowley, sir, while sharing some biscuits with your snake friend there. [Alice isn't scared of any sort of animal.]

But that is simply amazing you were there to do so much!

Yes, of course. Did just so much. [Was distracted by the Adversary trying to wile him into an Arrangement, more like, and partaking of all those feasts. Accomplished a lot, he did. Humans mostly sorted it out themselves.]

Thank you, my dear. Oh, and if you'd ever care to meet Creme, I'm sure he'd be very polite to a nice young lady such as yourself.

Creme is the name of your snake? Well, how do you do, Mr. Creme? [Alice had just visited the Looking Glass where she had spoken to her food, speaking to a snake is not new.]

My name is Alice Liddell, sir. [Yes, that Alice.] May I know your name, please?

Creme Brulee, yes. He's named for the dessert. [As snakes do, Creme sticks his tongue out at her, no offense intended.]

A pleasure to meet you, Miss. Liddell. You may call me Mr. Fell.

Oh! I've never had that! But... I don't know how much I would want burnt cream.

A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fell!

The cream itself isn't burnt. A topmost layer of sugar is caramelized by flame to give it a very hard shell. It creates the most wonderful little treat. If I happen to find someone selling them here, my dear girl, I'll send one your way.

Oh, that does sound lovely! And that's very kind of you, Mr. Fell. I have no way of paying for it, though. That is, not yet. I am still looking for employment, you see.

Employment? But you sound so very young.
And it would be a gift, not something you pay for.

I'm seven and a half, sir. There are much younger children than I in workhouses. I... never wished to BE a child in a workhouse, but what other choice do I have to buy things like food and clothes?

Oh! Thank you, Mr. Fell! That is very kind of you!

Oh, goodness. Workhouses. No. No, I am sure there will be other options. Perhaps, if you must work, you can sweep up, dust shelves in the little shops. Something not very demanding.

I know... I am... I am worried I might end up at one. I don't think this place has one, though. It is not London, after all. [All children in the Victorian era are told the horror stories of the workhouses. Thanks to Oliver Twist, it's their version of the boogeyman.]

Do you think the people here would be alright with such things?

Edited 2021-01-14 06:34 (UTC)

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