Work Text:
Being an angel was boring but, eh, it was a living.
And, at that point, it wasn’t as if there were plenty of other options. Unless you wanted to live underground, covered by dirt on a daily basis and with a perpetual teenager with a tantrum as your boss (some might argued this vision of Lucifer was inaccurate, but the literal Hell if she gave a shit about it).
Also, falling sounded nothing but painful; and Crawley LOATHED pain.
However, there were limits to what she was willing to stand; and Barbiel was really getting on her nerves.
“Honestly, dude, I don’t get why you chose that accent. It sounds…well, funny and we are angels, we are serious business. The boss said so.”
“The Boss also said that when she is bored she likes to create microuniverses and bet with alternative verses of herself about how long until their societies collapse, so pardon me if I don’t care about her ideas of serious business, pal” she forced a smile, thinking of all the still heavenly allowed manners of lately make the other angel’s existence slightly better.
“ His. He. God cannot be bound to something as weak as femininity, none of us should. Actually, I do believe absolutely not a single one of us truly is; some of us are just… mistaken” instead of feeling personally offended (as she did deep inside, she decided to act as cocky as possible.
“I would LOVE to see how you tell Michael that she is weak, that would be such a show…On her defence, some of the things she does…are not exactly what I think you would put under the femininity label” she licked her lips and, as she did, she could almost see Barbiel’s anger as a physical presentation next to him (in the level anything was physical in the celestial plane, that was). “Oh! Come on! You are such a prude! I heard you speaking in the bathroom, that stuff, mate, that couldn’t be considered Pure in any universe” she liked his ear and, for an instance, she was scared he would wrap it and contorted it until it just came off her mouth.
Though perhaps he could be content with cutting part of it on half.
Uh, she might be into having a forked tongue…
However, she underestimated the male-presenting angel’s anger, and he charged against her slim presentation.
“You, bitch!”
“Oh, oh, careful archangel, that word is soooo forbidden. I just insinuated that you can be nasty too, it was flattering!”
“AND A BAD CALLING” her voice never ceased to amaze her. God would be great one day at theatre if the species she was planning at settling on Earth managed to evolve that far. “YOU KNOW THE RULES, THE B-WORD IS FORBIDDEN. BARBIEL, YOU MUST FALL. I AM SORRY, MY LOYAL WARRIOR.”
He tried to protest but, as it always was with Her, it was of absolutely no use.
Crawley was about to try to find anything even slightly exiting to amuse herself for at least half a decade when God’s voice spoke to him again.
“CRAWLEY, YOU ARE A VERY MINOR ANGEL…TAKE CARE OR, PERHAPS, YOU WILL JOIN HIM” she barely heard the exact words (an angel with a special bright on their eyes -couldn’t tell what gender were they presenting at the moment- and white hair was passing through their workmates, completely absorb on… a book? Curious individual), but she got the message anyway.
“Honestly, ma’am, I’ve jsut realised: I couldn’t care less.”