paradisa | (no subject)

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adrian veidt

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Teleportation is problematic. Without a guiding mind, the possibility of a gruesome death upon arrival is, for most intents and purposes, certain. Therefore I must be fortune's favorite, unless--

[ The sound of a smile. ]

Gentlemen, ladies. Let's talk, shall we?

[ Adrian waits in the lobby, journal in hand and standing still to keep his purple suit wrinkle-free. ]

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[He stares at Adrian for a moment, and then suddenly realizes what he's getting on about, reaching up to remove the twig hanging unceremoniously on his head.]

You mean with Crowley? Nah, he probably would have cursed me or pushed me off the roof himself if I had. He's a real prick.

[ Pushing people off high places. Ah, nostalgia. ]

You could try flying.

[Go find better things to do with your time than throwing psychopathic superheroes out of windows, Adrian, sheesh.]

You don't think I've tried? I just got these recently, it's not exactly like someone handed me a "How to Fly 101" book or anything. I mean, it's not as easy as all the comics lead you to believe.

[ Like annoying a newbie angel? He's so on it. ]

Pigeons may prove better teachers.

[YOU'RE A MEAN ONE, MR. VELDT.]

If they can stay still and somehow converse in the English language, then sure, they'd be amazing teachers.

There are few words in English for maneuvering organic wings.

Yes, but if the human race can provide the details of how to work a computer and all its processing systems, then surely it can explain how to fly with wings attached to your back.

And also, somebody needs to teach me how to do these miracle things, I can't exactly control when they happen...

Whose miracle granted you those wings?

The castle, I guess? You see, there are these things called losses. Sometimes things happen to the people who live here that would never usually happen. Like getting your body switched or only being able to speak in poetry, or behaving like you're another person entirely.

So, for this week, I guess I'm an angel. And angels do miracles, but no one has taught me how to do that yet.

[ He smirks, and chucks his journal at a nearby sofa. He needs a personal assistant to carry his things gdi. ]

The real loss will come at the end of this week, don't you think?

[Newt glances at the journal at the sofa, frowning slightly at it.]

Um...you sort of need that. It's the best method of communication here, you know.

[And then back to Adrian with a confused expression.] The real loss? What do you mean, real loss?

I prefer this.

[ Besides, that binding is unbecoming. ]

You will miss your wings and miracles.

Okay, whatever floats your boat.

[Newt thinks about that for a minute, and then shrugs.]

Actually, I don't think I will. I was better off being human, and all of this is just a giant nuisance. Crowley and Aziraphale have been this way for well over a thousand years, and this is who they are but...this isn't what I'm supposed to be. Yeah, I guess it's cool, but I could really do without all of this.

[ He slips his hands into his pockets. ]

You've shown me how a gain can be a loss. Aziraphale may be your best best.

Yeah, I was thinking of asking him, but he's always cooped up in his bookshop and glares at me even if I dare step in. I'll have to contact him soon, though...

But yeah, sometimes a man's treasure is someone else's trash, right? That's how the saying goes, at least.

He dislikes customers? [ Or just you, Newt? ]

Of course he does. He hates selling his books. His shop is literally called, and I'm not making this up, "Closed for Refurbishment".

[ He chuckles. ] I must see this bookshop.

Sure, go ahead. He could always use a few people to ruffle up his feathers, if you know what I mean.

But as long as you don't try to actually buy any of his books, then you'll be on his good side. Aziraphale's pretty nice most of the time. Completely the opposite of Crowley, though.

[ He wasn't sure he did but now he does. Real angels, now? ]

I won't even haggle. Does that make Crowley pretty mean most of the time?

Well, he's not really mean, he just sort of goes after you and annoys you any way he can, and get you to say things you don't mean, and-

[A pause.]

Okay, no, he's pretty mean.

[ He smirks. ]

I won't tell.

[He shrugs, as if to say, "What can you do? Demons will demon."]

So...anyways, who are you? Sorry I didn't ask that earlier, too preoccupied with the angel thing, um...you look new. I'm Newton Pulsifer. Everyone just calls me Newt, though.

[ He offers a handshake. ] Adrian Veidt.

A pleasure, Newt. I hope the week goes by quickly.

[He takes that hand and shakes it, nodding.]

Hopefully! But you never know...people have been in losses for longer than that. This place is where weirdness comes to nest, let me warn you about that, first off. Me with wings will be pretty normal after you've been here for a while.