Post by zanten on Jul 22, 2011 23:19:01 GMT -5
In a small clothes shop in the middle of Detroit, the store's proprietor was tending to the single customer who had wandered into his shop a short time ago; the curious man had been clad in a loose, white button-up shirt and stained jean shorts, looking like some smarmy college punk, but behaving in the pleasant and polite manner of a nobleman. He even had the British accent to match.
And this man certaintly seemed to have good taste; he had wasted little time flitting about the small, messy shop like some demented moth, spending a fair amount of time simply digging through what was available and rubbing the fabric to his cheek. If he'd kept that up much longer, the owner would have thought him on 'The Drugs,' but before another minute had passed, the stranger had unearthed a number of clothing items that went surprisingly well together; when he had asked to try them on, the owner could hardly refuse, directing him to a small changing room in the far corner.
Now the stranger was back in the middle of the store, standing on a small stool in front of a set of full-body mirrors. His worn clothing had been replaced with a proper suit; the jacket, pants and button-up shirt all a deep, dark blue. There was no tie to speak of, the only article of clothing that didn't match the outfit being a pair of fine, black leather dress shoes he had somehow sniffed out from the very bottom of a pile of miscellaneous 'Bargain Bin' items. In truth, the outfit looked as crisp and professional as it would have coming from one of the 'Big Chains,' and as the shopkeeper watched his visitor examine himself in the mirror, he was certainly planning to charge an appropriate price...
"How's it fitting?" the shopkeeper asked, hoping the man's small smile indicated an impending sale.
"This will do just fine," the man replied, pleasure clear in his voice as he tugged lightly at the sleeves, adjusting the jacket collar and sniffing loudly. Not only was he examing the outfit, though, but his eyes also wandered over his own face, occasionally shifting his jaw, baring his teeth, or widening his eyes as if looking for defects. "Yes, yes, quite exquisite; you've certainly come a long way in textiles since sheep wool and togas, I must say...
"Toga? Aah, right, frat parties, eh?" The shopkeeper gave a cheery wink, lips pulling back in what he obviously thought was a knowing grin. "Wild drink and wilder women with wild fun?"
"Why, yes, the very wildest in fact," the man replied, giving the man's attempt at male bonding hardly a glance, all his attention on the mirror... only he no longer seemed quite so interested in what was in its reflection, gaze passing straight through its surface. "We taught the masses the finest of the arts when the sun rose high, and when night came and all the world was ablaze with bonfires, we froliced and fornicated with those any other would have thought... beneath them. The hypocrisy, ever present, the judgement final and most unforgiving. But oh, the celebrations we had... almost worth what came after."
The other man's knowing grin had faded throughout the stranger's little monologue, and by the end of it his face was blank, confusion and just a little discomfort plain on his features. Finally, realizing his customer had stopped speaking, the ill-kept shopkeeper managed a nervous little laugh, eyes flitting back and forth as he gave his own helpless shrug. "Oh. Teacher, then... fun..." Clearing his throat, the shopkeep shrugged a little; "Got a little too close to the students, sounding like?"
"I suppose we did." Eyes flickering downwards for but a moment, Azazael finally snorted, shifting his shoulders in the suit jacket yet again. "A little tight around the upper arms, now that I think of it."
"Oh! Well, I could try and find you a larger size if you want..."
"Don't trouble yourself." A brief snap of his fingers, and his movements seemed much more comfortable, the jacket somehow just a little... looser. "Much better... I'll take it."
"Well, great!" Clearly just as pleased about getting this odd man out of his store as he was about the sale itself, the shopkeep turned towards the small counter near the front door, retrieving the small price book on the surface of it. So busy was he flipping through its thin pages, he didn't even notice the faintest breeze that passed through the shop, accompanied by a gentle... flutter. "Now, think the jacket's a solid three hunnerd, but think since you look so snazzy I can let the whole set go for only five fif-"
Turning back towards the customer, the small man froze in place, shock warring with indignation, soon to turn into confusion. Despite the fact that there was only one exit to the small shop- the one that the owner had been facing the entire time- his newest guest had rather abruptly vanished into thin air... without paying his bill, to top it off. The man didn't move for a long moment, as if thinking the stranger was about to pop out from behind a hatrack... and when he did, he sort of moved in a short circle, head jerking from side to side.
"...hullo?"
****************
Fifty miles to the south, in the deepest, darkest corner of the waterfront district, Azazael stood in the middle of an ill-maintained street, still tugging and adjusting the sleeves of his new outfit as he had been in the shop a mere moment before. A distant horn honk caused him to jump a little, surprised, but when his eyes flickered towards the distant streets, the shock was replaced with contempt, a snort passing through him as he tried to regain a little of his lost dignity.
"Everything here makes noise, it seems." Lip curling a little, the angel gave his collar one last adjustment, then began to move towards the dark, featureless bank of warehouses that loomed in the distant twilight, his finely crafted shoes rapping lightly with each step on the pavement. His eyes continued to scan his surroundings, mind racing to collect and analyze what was a gargantuan leap in human development... even when his fellow Watchers had imparted unto humans trades and skillcrafts, they had been little better than mud-covered orgies, violent and ultimately disorganized. Here there were structures, thousands upon thousands of buildings containing billions of men, women... and miscellaneous.
Society, civilization... perhaps Man was still little better than a colony of ants, but at the very least Azazael had to confess that their anthill had expanded exponentially in that time.
The first warehouse door he came across had a massive, rusted padlock across its front gate, but that was hardly an obstacle; a single sharp gesture caused the cast iron device to shatter, falling to the ground in a variety of red-hot pieces. The heavy wood and steel loading door required only a single upwards push to open, its long-abandoned hinges and wheels hissing and shrieking as it rolled open to reveal its secrets... well, all it revealed was a really horrid odour, and it was with a brief clearing of the throat that Azazael stepped into the abandoned warehouse. His gaze was no less critical than before, but rather than simply take in what this place was, he thought instead to see what it might be.
Sure, the place was dark, dingy, slightly chilled and filled with puddles of mysterious origin... years of neglect and misuse had taken their toll on the interior almost as much as the exterior. It would take more than a little elbow grease just to ensure the damn thing didn't leak during the first rainstorm, and he was quite certain the smell of mold and urine wouldn't be cleansed by anything short of divine intervention.
But what could he say... he'd been in far worse before.
And he wasn't going anywhere but up from here on in...
"Yes," he murmured, smiling to himself as his dark eyes swept the cavernous chamber, hands in the pockets of his suit jacket and tongue flicking across his lips.
"This will do just fine..."
And this man certaintly seemed to have good taste; he had wasted little time flitting about the small, messy shop like some demented moth, spending a fair amount of time simply digging through what was available and rubbing the fabric to his cheek. If he'd kept that up much longer, the owner would have thought him on 'The Drugs,' but before another minute had passed, the stranger had unearthed a number of clothing items that went surprisingly well together; when he had asked to try them on, the owner could hardly refuse, directing him to a small changing room in the far corner.
Now the stranger was back in the middle of the store, standing on a small stool in front of a set of full-body mirrors. His worn clothing had been replaced with a proper suit; the jacket, pants and button-up shirt all a deep, dark blue. There was no tie to speak of, the only article of clothing that didn't match the outfit being a pair of fine, black leather dress shoes he had somehow sniffed out from the very bottom of a pile of miscellaneous 'Bargain Bin' items. In truth, the outfit looked as crisp and professional as it would have coming from one of the 'Big Chains,' and as the shopkeeper watched his visitor examine himself in the mirror, he was certainly planning to charge an appropriate price...
"How's it fitting?" the shopkeeper asked, hoping the man's small smile indicated an impending sale.
"This will do just fine," the man replied, pleasure clear in his voice as he tugged lightly at the sleeves, adjusting the jacket collar and sniffing loudly. Not only was he examing the outfit, though, but his eyes also wandered over his own face, occasionally shifting his jaw, baring his teeth, or widening his eyes as if looking for defects. "Yes, yes, quite exquisite; you've certainly come a long way in textiles since sheep wool and togas, I must say...
"Toga? Aah, right, frat parties, eh?" The shopkeeper gave a cheery wink, lips pulling back in what he obviously thought was a knowing grin. "Wild drink and wilder women with wild fun?"
"Why, yes, the very wildest in fact," the man replied, giving the man's attempt at male bonding hardly a glance, all his attention on the mirror... only he no longer seemed quite so interested in what was in its reflection, gaze passing straight through its surface. "We taught the masses the finest of the arts when the sun rose high, and when night came and all the world was ablaze with bonfires, we froliced and fornicated with those any other would have thought... beneath them. The hypocrisy, ever present, the judgement final and most unforgiving. But oh, the celebrations we had... almost worth what came after."
The other man's knowing grin had faded throughout the stranger's little monologue, and by the end of it his face was blank, confusion and just a little discomfort plain on his features. Finally, realizing his customer had stopped speaking, the ill-kept shopkeeper managed a nervous little laugh, eyes flitting back and forth as he gave his own helpless shrug. "Oh. Teacher, then... fun..." Clearing his throat, the shopkeep shrugged a little; "Got a little too close to the students, sounding like?"
"I suppose we did." Eyes flickering downwards for but a moment, Azazael finally snorted, shifting his shoulders in the suit jacket yet again. "A little tight around the upper arms, now that I think of it."
"Oh! Well, I could try and find you a larger size if you want..."
"Don't trouble yourself." A brief snap of his fingers, and his movements seemed much more comfortable, the jacket somehow just a little... looser. "Much better... I'll take it."
"Well, great!" Clearly just as pleased about getting this odd man out of his store as he was about the sale itself, the shopkeep turned towards the small counter near the front door, retrieving the small price book on the surface of it. So busy was he flipping through its thin pages, he didn't even notice the faintest breeze that passed through the shop, accompanied by a gentle... flutter. "Now, think the jacket's a solid three hunnerd, but think since you look so snazzy I can let the whole set go for only five fif-"
Turning back towards the customer, the small man froze in place, shock warring with indignation, soon to turn into confusion. Despite the fact that there was only one exit to the small shop- the one that the owner had been facing the entire time- his newest guest had rather abruptly vanished into thin air... without paying his bill, to top it off. The man didn't move for a long moment, as if thinking the stranger was about to pop out from behind a hatrack... and when he did, he sort of moved in a short circle, head jerking from side to side.
"...hullo?"
****************
Fifty miles to the south, in the deepest, darkest corner of the waterfront district, Azazael stood in the middle of an ill-maintained street, still tugging and adjusting the sleeves of his new outfit as he had been in the shop a mere moment before. A distant horn honk caused him to jump a little, surprised, but when his eyes flickered towards the distant streets, the shock was replaced with contempt, a snort passing through him as he tried to regain a little of his lost dignity.
"Everything here makes noise, it seems." Lip curling a little, the angel gave his collar one last adjustment, then began to move towards the dark, featureless bank of warehouses that loomed in the distant twilight, his finely crafted shoes rapping lightly with each step on the pavement. His eyes continued to scan his surroundings, mind racing to collect and analyze what was a gargantuan leap in human development... even when his fellow Watchers had imparted unto humans trades and skillcrafts, they had been little better than mud-covered orgies, violent and ultimately disorganized. Here there were structures, thousands upon thousands of buildings containing billions of men, women... and miscellaneous.
Society, civilization... perhaps Man was still little better than a colony of ants, but at the very least Azazael had to confess that their anthill had expanded exponentially in that time.
The first warehouse door he came across had a massive, rusted padlock across its front gate, but that was hardly an obstacle; a single sharp gesture caused the cast iron device to shatter, falling to the ground in a variety of red-hot pieces. The heavy wood and steel loading door required only a single upwards push to open, its long-abandoned hinges and wheels hissing and shrieking as it rolled open to reveal its secrets... well, all it revealed was a really horrid odour, and it was with a brief clearing of the throat that Azazael stepped into the abandoned warehouse. His gaze was no less critical than before, but rather than simply take in what this place was, he thought instead to see what it might be.
Sure, the place was dark, dingy, slightly chilled and filled with puddles of mysterious origin... years of neglect and misuse had taken their toll on the interior almost as much as the exterior. It would take more than a little elbow grease just to ensure the damn thing didn't leak during the first rainstorm, and he was quite certain the smell of mold and urine wouldn't be cleansed by anything short of divine intervention.
But what could he say... he'd been in far worse before.
And he wasn't going anywhere but up from here on in...
"Yes," he murmured, smiling to himself as his dark eyes swept the cavernous chamber, hands in the pockets of his suit jacket and tongue flicking across his lips.
"This will do just fine..."
