01 🍎 Pleased to meet you; hope you guessed my name

[sauntervaguelydownwards]

[Video]
[It’s a new face, but a transmission that’s been made scores of times. This time the speaker is a dark-haired young man with great cheekbones, wearing sunglasses and a bewildered expression. He’s standing on the deck a healthy distance from the chapel, and when he speaks his voice is British, clipped, and dry.]

All right, when’s the next stop? I want to get off. Getting shanghaied onto Twilight Zone Cruise Lines is bad enough, but the maniacal holiday displays and the church are starting to make me nervous. I am not sitting through a Christmas sermon or anyone’s rendition of “Away in a Manger.”


[Deck/Greenhouse spam]
[Crowley had mostly been blowing hot air on the network; in truth the decorations delight him. They spark up an idea, and as soon as it flashes through his mind it takes hold and he knows he has to do it – it’s too tempting. There are cut trees everywhere, and a Greenhouse.

A smirk grows on his lips.

He wrestles an especially bright small tree through the Greenhouse door, dragging it to a spot directly in front of an array of orchids.] Pretty, hmm? [he asks the plants around him. He enjoys talking to – or rather threatening – greenery.] So shiny and delicate. Enjoy it, take a good look. [He tipped the tree, letting the water from the stand drain out.] Someday, this might be you.

Comments

[to_dust]

That's a fairly personal question. What did you do?

[sauntervaguelydownwards]

Loads of things. No idea which one they're upset about.

[to_dust]

Then 'loads of things' will do for me. Or 'poor choices.' That tends to be a theme.

[sauntervaguelydownwards]

I take it your problem is the latter.

[to_dust]

Oh no-- it's definitely both. If I had to be brought back from the dead, this place is probably the best place for it.

[sauntervaguelydownwards]

You've got a point. It's better than Hell or Heaven.

[to_dust]

You know, in my culture, neither of those are considered permanent residences? Which is true for the barge as well, in theory.

Well. We don't have a 'heaven' as it's been described to me. The virtuous go to Samor to await their rebirth-- it's a place of rest and plenty, outside of the wheel of the seasons, where you must neither harvest or sow, but sleep and dream. Less ... bright and and clouds.

[He's had only the most fractured and out of context introduction to Christian iconography, it must be said.]

[sauntervaguelydownwards]

I think your culture made a mistake.

What have you heard about Heaven besides clouds? That's always good for a laugh.

[to_dust]

Well, the rebirth thing is literally true. The rest of my faith, as it turns out, is suspect at best.

Not that I'm at all bitter.

Let's see, heaven. Wings; human souls; harps; the Doctor started rambling about 'be not afraid' but Charlotte and I snuck off to the garden, so I just assume they're warning you about the harpists.

[sauntervaguelydownwards]

Of course not. Truth never seems to matter much for reigning deities and everyone else is the problem, not them.

[A beat.]

You're right about the harpists.

[to_dust]

I've met the creator of my universe, and he has a very distant relationship with the truth.

[Sulk. Sulk. Ahem.]

If rogue harpists descend en masse and we're all forced to carol, I'm to blame you, then?

[sauntervaguelydownwards]

Don't they all.

[Crowley looses a brief laugh of disbelief.] Yes. I take full responsibility.