[ Aziraphale can't deny that it's been a struggle, losing not only his magic and his miracles, but his connection to the Almighty as well. Still, he's been coping as well as can be expected. Miracles are just miracles, after all, and magic more of the same; it's inconvienent not to have it, but he's always had a fondness for doing things the human way, in any case. As for Her...
Angels rely less on faith than humans do. It doesn't take much to believe in Heaven when you live there, or in a God you've spoken to directly. Most angels might have broken, being suddenly cut off from Her that way. Aziraphale, though, has an advantage over the others. He'd lived on Earth for six thousand years, acting largely separate from Heaven, and perhaps most significantly, surrounded by humans. He's seen firsthand the power of belief without evidence. Seen how to live on faith itself.
And besides. He's not here alone.
He thrills when Crowley reaches for him, returning the kiss eagerly and releasing the present into his hands. ]
Don't be ridiculous. O - I wanted to.
[ He stops himself from saying of course I did, just barely, not wanting to imply any corresponding obligation on Crowley's part. As much as he adores gifts from Crowley, Christmas - Candlenights - is about giving, not receiving. All he really needs is Crowley. All he really wants is for him to open the box, to see his reaction to the gifts inside: a clip for his new, longer hairstyle; the softest, warmest scarf he'd been able to find (a dark red that looks almost black except when the light hits it just right, not a hint of tartan anywhere); and an intricately carved music box, one he'd fortunately happened to plan for ahead of time, and had enchanted well before the magic vanished from the world and no one could enchant anything anymore. ]
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Angels rely less on faith than humans do. It doesn't take much to believe in Heaven when you live there, or in a God you've spoken to directly. Most angels might have broken, being suddenly cut off from Her that way. Aziraphale, though, has an advantage over the others. He'd lived on Earth for six thousand years, acting largely separate from Heaven, and perhaps most significantly, surrounded by humans. He's seen firsthand the power of belief without evidence. Seen how to live on faith itself.
And besides. He's not here alone.
He thrills when Crowley reaches for him, returning the kiss eagerly and releasing the present into his hands. ]
Don't be ridiculous. O - I wanted to.
[ He stops himself from saying of course I did, just barely, not wanting to imply any corresponding obligation on Crowley's part. As much as he adores gifts from Crowley, Christmas - Candlenights - is about giving, not receiving. All he really needs is Crowley. All he really wants is for him to open the box, to see his reaction to the gifts inside: a clip for his new, longer hairstyle; the softest, warmest scarf he'd been able to find (a dark red that looks almost black except when the light hits it just right, not a hint of tartan anywhere); and an intricately carved music box, one he'd fortunately happened to plan for ahead of time, and had enchanted well before the magic vanished from the world and no one could enchant anything anymore. ]
May I come in?