Aziraphale shivered a little, involuntarily at the thought of those creatures...who had never seen the light of Earth, much less of Heaven. And it wasn't the first time he felt his knowledge gap acutely when speaking with a demonic friend; after all Ellie has seen Heaven, Earth, and Hell and he himself only knew two out of three.
He'd had millennia to ask Crowley for more information about everything in the corners of Hell, and yet he hadn't very often...there was a whole world right here of things to talk about, after all, and he didn't want to make his friend revisit unpleasantness, and...there were things Aziraphale did not want to know much about, honestly. Kindness or cowardice? A bit of both.
"If only I had my books," he said wistfully, remembering the ancient tomes fondly, many of which he had read so long ago their memory was dusty and ashy. And many he hadn't read since they were current, which was probably about the time the legends of the daevas were hot gossip among humans. Oh yes, there were memories. Few of which seemed immediately useful.
Aziraphale had an impulse to take Ellie's hand. He couldn't remember how long it had been since she had spoken Tali's name in a tone that relatively calm. He nodded gently. "The realisation of how far beyond our jobs we had come...came a lot more gradually for Crowley and me, I believe. Well, I can't speak for him. In my case, it's possible I didn't realise I had crossed the rubicon until I found myself perfectly willing to die to save Earth, if it came to that. At the moment, I didn't have time to be frightened. I've more than made up for that since."
"Your courage astounds me. It has as long as I've known you." He thought he ought to say something brave, and he thought of Ellie and of Tali and of John. And of Asmodeus. "I do pity him. He's not much like her, though...at the very least, Ellie, your daughter was created in love. I have to think that makes a very great difference." He looked up into her eyes. "She needs a name, Ellie. And that's a mother's prerogative."
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He'd had millennia to ask Crowley for more information about everything in the corners of Hell, and yet he hadn't very often...there was a whole world right here of things to talk about, after all, and he didn't want to make his friend revisit unpleasantness, and...there were things Aziraphale did not want to know much about, honestly. Kindness or cowardice? A bit of both.
"If only I had my books," he said wistfully, remembering the ancient tomes fondly, many of which he had read so long ago their memory was dusty and ashy. And many he hadn't read since they were current, which was probably about the time the legends of the daevas were hot gossip among humans. Oh yes, there were memories. Few of which seemed immediately useful.
Aziraphale had an impulse to take Ellie's hand. He couldn't remember how long it had been since she had spoken Tali's name in a tone that relatively calm. He nodded gently. "The realisation of how far beyond our jobs we had come...came a lot more gradually for Crowley and me, I believe. Well, I can't speak for him. In my case, it's possible I didn't realise I had crossed the rubicon until I found myself perfectly willing to die to save Earth, if it came to that. At the moment, I didn't have time to be frightened. I've more than made up for that since."
"Your courage astounds me. It has as long as I've known you." He thought he ought to say something brave, and he thought of Ellie and of Tali and of John. And of Asmodeus. "I do pity him. He's not much like her, though...at the very least, Ellie, your daughter was created in love. I have to think that makes a very great difference." He looked up into her eyes. "She needs a name, Ellie. And that's a mother's prerogative."