Of sunsets and Evening gowns - a Good Omens fanfic
@punk-aziraphale I thought you might like this???
Summary: A brief history of a fallen angel, his soulmate, his struggle with gender and a ineffable happy ending
TRIGGER/SQUIK WARNING: Period typical trans/homophobia, crying, emotional distress, discription of pain (the fall), mention of food (if I forgot any, feel free to point them out to me)
He'd always rather enjoyed sunsets.
One of the almighty her better inventions; colours bleeding through the sky and shadows stretched long and dark, the red and orange and deep purple hitting the objects in the light's way to the earth underneath his feet, wrapping them in the soft glow of the last hours of the day.
Now that he thought of it, he wasn't quite sure if God herself had created the colourful wave of goodbye the sun gave the earth every time it turned.
It must've been another angel, She had never been one for details like these.
And maybe it was well known who had created it!
Dawn and Dusk, morning and evening.
Yes, maybe it was. Though he wouldn't know either way.
He'd never really had contact with the others, too far off in the galaxy creating stars and nebulas to be around them much and always getting ushers away from them when he got too close.
'I want to see what they are making,' he had said. Well, not really. Back then they didn't really have a voice. Or something that could be considered a body, for that matter.
'Don't dwell on them, brother,' had been his answer. 'They are lesser, as we are the ones that give shape to the divine plan.'
Back then, when everything had still been peaceful and emotions and actions were being named left and right, he had agreed with his brother. Simply because, in the short time that the emotion had existed, he had felt nothing but annoyance for Gabriel.
A few years went by (after someone had gone through the trouble of naming them just that) before he returned to earth, his newest creations merely small white dots in the endless dark of the night sky as he sat on what would soon be called the wall of Eden, the feet of his now human-shaped form, dangling over the edge of it as he looked out over the garden;
The trees and flowers and water and dirt still untouched by any living creature except for the angel that brought them into existence.
"Brother, what are you doing here? Gabriel has been asking for you."
The term brother didn't feel as if it were fitting for his relationship with the other archangels. Not really.
Though a different term for what they would then be hadn't been invented yet and he didn't bother doing it himself.
"Hello, Lucifer. Sorry for worrying you. Was just curious 'bout what the other angels have been so busy creating down here. Seems like it's quite a lot."
"You ever wonder what this is all supposed to be for? Her, creating all of this just to test the humans I mean?"
Lucifer sat down next to him now, a reserved expression on his face, both of their wings brushing the stone beneath them where they were stretched comfortably behind them. There was no reason to hide their wings. Not yet anyway.
"Every day I wonder brother. You're not alone in your doubts. I overheard her saying terrible things: Talk of death and disease. Of war and hunger. I wonder why she would subject any creature of her own making to such cruelty. Wonder if the souls that will be lost due to her testing would mean anything to Her. And, if they do not, if ours don't do so either."
Lucifer had always had a way with words. Good at getting what he wanted when he wanted it by carefully selecting them and twisting them into complex puzzles which one would only figure out when listening to them a couple of times.
Raphael nodded in agreement before actually realising he was doing so.
But there were more important things about this that he should have realised.
Like how Lucifer was more manipulative than he was simply pushy. That he had him wrapped around his finger and, that with that simple nod, he had signed for his own execution.
He liked to tell others that he didn't really fall. That it hadn't hurt him as much as it had the others and that he went on his accords; only because he wanted to go and not so much because God had cast him out.
But when one hits the ground so harshly, any fragile human would have died on impact, his wings burning and burning and his sight gone, body heat dropping rapidly, there is not much else one could do except scream in pure agony.
After what felt like double the time he had been alive for until then -which had been quite a while- he regained his vision again, now able to see significantly better in the dark and make out his wings, black as night and every movement hurting him so severely he was certain he had burns all over the muscles and fat underneath the burned mass of feathers.
It wasn't crowded, not yet anyhow.
Lucifer and he had fallen first.
'To show the others that She will have no mercy,' his brother had said. The darkness around them so dark that it hid what he had become or currently was becoming.
Once more angels fell, he asked his brother what they'd do now. Though before he could even get past the last vowel of his name he heard Lucifer hiss at him as if the mere mention of his name had hurt him.
'We can't keep our old names brother. They are God-given and will, therefore, do us harm. Demons aren't made to have anything angelic.'
The word 'demon' had never been used before that exact moment. Though as it rolled off of his brother's tongue, Raphael knew that that was exactly what they were...
He got the job just four days after falling.
Lucifer, who now called himself Satan and who Raphael no longer saw as anything close to a brother (or an ally and trustworthy person for that matter) telling him to 'cause some trouble' as that was what they were now meant to be doing.
He was happy to leave; Hell (which is what they had called their new home) had gotten awfully crowded and, as the boundaries had disappeared with angels falling from the sky, way too touchy for his liking. He'd refused a position of power after being offered one. Had refused to rule alongside Satan or do anything that would elevate his status in any way. So Satan, seeing no other use for him, had given him a mission and it was so that he made his way to earth for the very first time since the fall.
He searched out a reflective surface -in this case, a large body of water he would later learn was called a lake- as soon as he arrived, finally able to see what he looked like and if he had changed anywhere near as severely as Lucifer had done.
He hadn't, it turned out. His skin was not red and burned like his brother's was and in almost every way he looked the same as he had done before the fall. Maybe dishevelled and wearing black, ash stained clothing instead of the pure and clinical white he'd worn before, though the same none the less,
That is, nearly everything.
He stared at his reflection. Yellow, reptile-like eyes staring back at him, unblinking. The slits thin and fearful looking. The yellow having driven away every bit of white in his eyes.
He hadn't found it so bad at first. Had almost found them charming in the way they reminded him of his creations, the only animal-like creatures he had created that slithered through the trees and winded their elegant bodies around the branches, scales shimmering in the sunlight.
After hearing about how there was only one rule he could have the newly made humans break to satisfy Lucifer's urging on to make them break as many as possible, it only seemed logical to turn into one of his serpent friends and tempt the curious Eve to eat an apple.
For starters, he knew that they were supposed to be enemies. That the divine had urged them all on to smite every demon within smithing range.
What he also knew though, was that Aziraphale would not be doing any smithing and that hiding from the rain under an angel's wing was comfortable and way more so than he had deemed appropriate for all of his four days in Hell.
Another thing he did know was that, as soon as the name Crawley had left his lips, rolling off his tongue while they watched the humans set their first steps outside of the garden, was that he didn't like it. It almost sounded like an insult to him and to the lovely creatures Eve was so kind as to give the name 'snakes' to.
Of course, he wouldn't ask Aziraphael what his name was before a good hundred years had passed. That he technically didn't have to ask as he had somehow known it before he had even crawled up on the wall of Eden was beside the point.
The relationship they formed over the decennia, over thousands of years, was something that transcended human description.
Some might call them lovers when seeing them walk alongside each other in the park or dine at yet another small establishment Crowley had found for them. Maybe it was the way Aziraphale always called him dear in that soft, endearing ton of his or maybe it was because Crowley had called Aziraphale angel so many times it had led to the humans making it a pet name of their own after one of them overheard him saying it.
Others would call them friends. With the way, they always were there for each other and could talk for hours and hours with a good bottle of wine. Discussions going on deep into the night about the memories they had made.
The ones who called them soulmates would probably be the ones closest to an even vaguely accurate explanation.
The way they felt lost when the other was gone. How they seemed to know every quirk and every thought and the thought process behind it so well it seemed to others as if they had invented telepathy.
And yet, Aziraphale always seemed just out of reach.
When Crowley asked for them to go to a restaurant the first time, he got shot down with a dismissive wave and an awkward laugh,
When he asked again about three-hundred years later, he got a soft 'You go to fast for me Crowley' in return and proceded to wrack his brain over that sentence. He had goten drunk and sobered up and got drunk again and had talked to his plants while they shook in fear, their owner rambling on about those seven words. Speculating if it was only ment to be about the speed at which he drove and if it wasn't, what the angel had ment by it otherwise.
It had taken him hours and several bottles of various types of alcohol to come to the conclusion that, if it meant something other than him using the entirety of his bentley's speedometer, that he would just wait and see how their relationship progressed.
Crowley and Aziraphale, just like all angels and demons, were both technically genderless.
Both of them had corperations which would be considered male though. And because they also tended to dress in mostly masculine ways (Crowely had once told the angel that the only reason for that was that most mens clothing was way more comfortable) and they had both chosen a male presenting bodies, they were spoken to as such and neither of them really minded.
But Crowley had always loved mixing it together.
'Womans' pants and skirt he liked he would buy without even thinking about the ridiculous gendering of things.
His 'experiments' had gotten less risky over the milenia as humans started to develop genderrolls and he was burned at the stake for wearing a lovely lightgrey and black dress in 1652. Aziraphale was still convinced that the burning had taken place because of the fire that had been floating just above Crowley's palm which he was using to heat up his tea with. But he could also admit that the wonderfully crafted dress probably hadn't helped his case.
The very first time (which also turned out to be the last time for quite a while) that Aziraphale had actually been there to witness Crowley's bolder fashin choices (the demon would laugh in your face for calling a certain piece of fabric a 'bold choice') had been in the 80's.
A riot in Germany surrounding the wall that seperated the country in two had driven them both away and so they found themselves fleeing from their respective places to go to the safehouse they had created for the two of them somewhere in the late 20's.
England, which is were the lovely little cottage was located, was completely safe at the time, so, after greeting eachother with a handshake and a smile (Crowley had to restrain herself from giving the angel a hug.) they decided on going to one of their newest discoveries: A small restaurant in an alleyway lit with fairy lights where they sold the most wonderful creme brulé.
Aziraphale was already waiting for the demon when she finally came out of her room, hands twisting nervously in the material of the slightly flowy skirt. The fabric looked like some very light cotton, the jet black thing having a high waistband that made the dark grey button-up she had tucked into it poof up a little.
With her currently delightfully long and partly braided hair completing the look Aziraphale had a hard time keeping his hands to himself as Crowley gave him an anxious smile, eyes flickering from Aziraphale to the floor, to the wall and back to Aziraphale again.
"You look wonderful my dear. Come on now, dinner awaits."
The angel knew, of course, that this was the first time Crowley wore anything considered too feminine for a mostly male presenting person to wear since that dicorperation about 360 years ago.
What Aziraphale also knew though, was that his companion looked positively deligtful and so very fragile in the way she kept adjusting the skirt. He would try to make sure the fragilness would be replaced with confidence even if it was the last thing he did.
So he stuck out his arm, offering it to the demon with a small smile. It quickly turning into a wide grin as Crowley reluctantly took it and smiled back at him as he opened the door for the both of them.
"Shall we then, my dear?"
He had realised this many times in the past and would realise it again on many occasion in the future.
That didn't mean that he was prepared in the slightest for what waited for his partner outside of the bookshop.
Slur after slur was thrown her way. Their way, in some occasions of people taking note of their linked arms. Pebbles and food was thrown at Crowley (all of it miraculously missing her of course) and glare after glare, whisper after wisper he saw the small smile slide of off her lips,
Hadn't it been for Aziraphale letting go off the simple spell that kept his ethernal form hidden and showing some rather rude gentelmen his true form, Crowley would have actually been assaulted. (That she could very well defend herself or, if need be, simply transform into a snake and slither away from them, did not occur to him.)
They returned to the bookshop before less than an hour had passed between that moment and them first exiting it.
They hadn't gone to the restaurant and Aziraphale now had a firm arm around Crowley who was strangely quiet, even her slightly too fast intakes of breath being nearly unnoticable.
"My dear, are you alri-" "It'sssss fine angel. I'm doing sssssuper."
Crowley seemed to get slightly mad after the last part, Harshly ripping the skirt off and miracled herself into a large black hoodie and some jeans. She pulled her legs up and curled up on the couch rather then taking on her usual position of laying sprawled out over it in the most obnoxious way possible, hair now up in a messy bun that made the angel itch to undo it and run his hands through her hair.
Aziraphale watched her, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he nodded and silently went to make his demon some tea.
He had just poured the water into the cups as he felt something nudging his left pants leg, looking down just in time to see the end of a scaled black tail before the head of a rather large snake peeked over the counter to look at him. The snake reluctantly slithering towards the angel's outstretched hand after a while.
"Oh! Hello there beauty" Aziraphale's voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke to the snake, carefully petting her head before letting her wind herself around his arm and drape over his shoulders comfortably, size seeming to be significantly smaller as she had been a second ago.
Aziraphale simply smiled and ran a hand over the smooth scales before picking up the two mugs and carrying them (and the serpent) towards his rarely used bedroom rather than towards the couch they had previously been sitting on.
The snake (or rather, Crowley as a snake, let's not beat around the bush here) hissed quietly in a manner that the angel identified as one of unease, resulting in Aziraphale quietly explaining that she needed some rest.
And thus the cups were set down, Aziraphale miracled himself into some rather comfy pyjamas (He still prefered to sleep nude, though he didn't think Crowley would apprechiate that very much at that particular moment) and the demon lay rolled up comfortably in the angels arms, yellow eyes with dialated pupils lazily looking up at him before blinking shut.
The angel laid them both down carefully, shifting the serpent in his arms to make sure they were both comfortable. He was sure that Crowley had fallen asleep by the time he whispered a soft 'you looked wonderful in that skirt my dear.' And then, ten minutes later, he finally felt able to say the rest: "I hope you know that I love you, no matter what form, body or clothing, I always will."
After ten long seconds of silence, Aziraphale already accepting that he wouldn't get a reply and have made peace with the fact that it simply was a conversation for another time, felt Crowley slowly shift back into her human form and, once she was fully changed, wrap her arms around the angel.
He didn't get a verbal reply back then. Didn't get one for a long time after that either. But angels weren't anything if not patient. And it was alright.
He could live with it. He hadn't been pushed away or told of after all.
Crowley, for all the years he had loved Aziraphale in a way that couldn't just be explained with a simple 'I love you' was utterly useless when it came to telling the other that the feeling of love wat mutual. Nothing really changed after that evening after all. Thought Crowley didn't wear skirts again up until it being his desguise in their plan to prevent Armagedon.
He didn't say anything about the confession Aziraphale had made up until Armaged-oh-never-mind and a bit after that.
He didn't say anything until four months after said even had not taken place and he and the angel had decided that today was an excelent day to visit Anathema. The Them had just left, Adam giving them both a wide and highly un-Antichrist-like grin as Pepper rambled on about how they ought to make mudpies this time instead of the horendous stone and sand filled cake they'd made last time Wensleydale wanted to play bakery.
Anathema had told the two celestial beings to go sit in the back room and make themselves comfortable while she and Newt prepared dinner and so they sat, watching the raindrops on the windows when Aziraphale started the conversation.
"Do you remember what it was like? Heaven, I mean. I've heard of demons forgetting everything before the fall and we've never talked about it before but I fell as if... You talk about certain things, like the stars and the galaxy as if you watched them be created and I- Oh dear is this a bad subject?"
Crowley knew the last part had been added because of how pale he had gotten. How still he was sitting.
Crowley also knew that, how much easier it would be to lie put aside, he would never do that to Aziraphale.
So he secured himself. Mentally hiding away in his little bomb shelter and hoping for the best.
"Yeah, most of them forgot. Memory wiped. Clean slate and all that. I... remember though. Not everything of course, and it took me a he- heav- an awfully long time to recover them.
I remember... I remember the fall. How it felt. The creations we all put into the world..."
Aziraphale, though he'd pulled away, backpaddled as soon as he realised this topic was making his partner highly uncomfortable, latched onto the new conversation topic like a predator to its prey.
"What was your favourite creation then?"
Crowley thought for a moment, Snakes had been It by a long shot had you asked him 6000 years ago. But times change, and so do celestial beings. And his hatred for the snake eyes that had always made him not able to fit in just right ran deep.
"I quite enjoy the Nebula's I helped create. Alpha Centaury still has that little something that just pulls me towards it. Two stars always circling until they will eventually collide and become one, go down together."
"Wasn't Alpha Centaury-" "The one I asked you to run away to? Yeah. A bit selfish of me to pick my own I know."
Aziraphale stayed very quiet as Crowley watched how the raindrops ran down the glass. Grey clouds obscuring the sunset that should be happening right about now and putting a slight damper on the contentness he felt.
"...Did- Didn't the archangels create all the stars, my dear boy?"
Ah, that's what he had been forgetting then. He looked at Aziraphale out of the corner of his reptilian eye, seeing how the angel was watching him closely.
"Crowley?" he turned his head now, meeting his partners gaze head-on at that specific moment felt nearly as difficult as it had been to walk on the holiest of grounds in the body that wasn't his to undergo an execution which he knew would fail. Nearly.
"Crowley were you- and don't lie to me, my dear. We're you-"
He must've said it. Crowley was sure of it. But he hadn't heard it.
The word forbidden, burning him like a red hot iron rod would have done. And Aziraphale must've noticed him hissing. Watched him crumble and catch his breath as if he'd just been punched.
"Yeah. Fine- I'm fine. I jussst-whatss the he-heav-ssssomthing! What was that? "
"I don't know. Are you alright?" and then, once he was sure Crowley was not harmed in any way: "And I know I'm pushy my dear but this is important. Are y-" Crowley silenced him with a hiss and a warning finger. Eyes wide and panicked.
"Don't- don't say that. The name. I- It hurts me."
"Yeah. I guess I- I don't know angel. Whatever you said, whatever name must be correct as otherwise, it wouldn't have-... Yeah. The name is the only thing I could never remember."
Aziraphale kept silent, simply looking at him with a strange sort of sadness in his eyes. Maybe a bit of betrayal.
" I'm sorry I never told you, angel. I was just... Scared, I guess. "
The other nodded, still sitting very still and watching him. Behind them, thunder rumbled as the sky darkened.
"W-what was your favourite? Creation I mean."
The angel gave him a sad smile at the change of topic and reached out, wanting to pat his hand, though decided against it and laid his own on the armrest instead.
"I always quite liked the pufferfish I made. Funny creatures, those things.
Though sunsets are my favourite I believe. The pretty colours making up the golden hour, quite proud of those."
Crowley, who had been fidgeting with one of his jacket pockets, looked up sharply, staring at the angel for a hot second before blurting out 'you made the sunset?' immediately followed by a quick 'sorry' as he realised how blunt that sounded.
Though Aziraphale only looked happily surprised at the reaction, glad he could lend the other a distraction.
"I did. Always found it too boring so I threw some colours in. I'm not sure Emanuel was happy with me playing around with his morning and evening concept but it made the humans smile once they saw it so I think it was worth it."
"Sunsets have always been my favourite thing about the earth," Crowley said without really being able to stop himself.
"I've always wondered who would think of such a thing. Looking back I suppose it should be obvious that you would be that angel. You've always been the only creative one out of all the bastards up there."
They both laughed at that, light and unbothered as the raindrops raced each other down the glass.
" I meant what I said in the 80s you know. "
The topic change came sudden and made Crowley forget that his human body needed air for a few moments.
It was said with such intense casualty. The meaning carefully woven through the words and tone one that would be normal if this had been said mere hours, or perhaps days, after that confession. Not nearly forty years.
"About me loving you no matter what, I mean. We do need to talk about you being... Them. Someday, that is. But not now if you don't want to. And I do get it if you don't want to be associated with me like that. But I wanted you to know so you-" "Angel"
Aziraphale looked at him, cutting his nervous ramble short, eyes round, blown wide as he let Crowley take his hand.
There were so many ways he had told the angel that he cared about him deeply without having said 'I love you'.
He didn't think it was needed. That there were better ways of showing it. Like dinners and offers for a lift home. Like picking up a signed copy of a book that the angel just happened to be looking for for the last few months and like an offer to stay at his flat while the both of them sat on a bench in a small village.
And perhaps, for him there were. But Aziraphale needed the confirmation. Needed those words so he would stop doubting what they had was special.
He said again, a small smile tugging at his lips."I love you to angel."
Said celestial seemed to suddenly relax as if all of the air had been let out of him. Like a deflating balloon, as his face lit up with a smile so bright Crowley felt the need to reach for his shades that sat on the table beside them.
"Oh thank the lord-" (Crowley whispered a quick 'she had nothing to do with it' under his breath at that) "-Then I won't have to return this." And with one fluid movement, he pulled out a little velvet black box.
"Zira... Is that-" "A wedding ring yes you're correct." "And you want to-... With me?"
Aziraphale smile got possibly even brighter as he nodded enthusiastically. "As if I would ever give it to anybody else. I thought, as we are already bound to each other for life and both care about each other very much, why not get married!"
"You-I- we can't- demon?"
"Crowley, if you're about to say that we can't because of our respective sides, let me remind you of a certain conversation we've had about us being on our own side."
"No, Zira I didn't--well, I did but that's not what I wanted to say."
What Crowley actually had wanted to say, would have been something along the lines of 'I've been dropping hint for 6000 FUCKING YEARS angel but to straight-up ask me to marry you might be moving a bit to fast even for me.' or perhaps 'Of course I'll say yes angel don't give and never have given two shits about what above or down under think now please show me the ring or I might cry.'
Though what actually came out of the demon's mouth, was sputtering and a slightly chocked up sound, Aziraphale merely waiting for his response to get somewhat closer to becoming words, the little black ring box still closed in his slightly outstretched hand.
"Can I... Can I see it? The ring I mean."
"Oh, of course, my dear. Though I must warn you, it's a bit cheesy. If you truly don't like it we can always go get ourselves some new ones."
When Crowley opened the little box, a high pitched noise came out of his throat, the only thing he could manage was to simply stare down at the ring.
Two light gold angel wings, tips and basses touching to form a perfectly round circle Crowley was sure to fit like a glove once he put it on. The represented his angel, of course.
"Aziraphale, I-" "It's alright if you don't like it. That's not what it's about after all but-" "No angel, I love it. It's beautiful but I-well I've had this for so long and I didn't know you would-... Well, beat me to the punch I suppose."
At that he reached into his inner pocket to pull out a pure white box, the thing having sat in the pocket for such a long time that the angel has stopped noticing that there was something there.
The demon opened the box, revealing a simple silver band, a small and incredibly detailed black snake wrapping around it two times.
" Crowley is that-" "An engagement ring? Yes. I should've asked sooner, or at least told you but... Well, I'm not the best at expressing any sorts of love."
"Well then, we better get on with it then, right?" the angel said, giving Crowley a nervous smile before getting down on one knee.
Both of them were too wrapped up at the moment to notice Anathema standing by the door, leaning against the doorframe as she watched the scene unfold.
" Anthony J. Crowley." Aziraphale started, watching as the fond little smile on the demons faces morphed into a full-on, gleeful grin. "I've known you since the very beginning, we've gone through literally everything together and while no human word would be able to accurately describe what we are to each other, I've found that the word soulmate to be a term I've grown quite fond of when referring to you in my head. We've known each other since the very beginning and will continue to know each other till the very end. This human formality is not necessary in any way. But 'my husband' or 'my wife' has always had a nice ring to it for me and I'm certain it would feel like just another type of connection we'd share.
So Crowley. Anthony J- demon- Crowley, will you marry me?"
Crowley's world seemed to be nearly as frozen as it had been when he had actually stopped time.
He was aware of his heart thumping very fast, almost obnoxiously so, seeing as it technically had no purpose whatsoever. He was aware of the sound of the drops hitting the cemented tiles on Anathema her terras and was fully and wholeheartedly aware that neither of those things should be holding his attention right now.
"I-yeah. Yes of course angel."
Aziraphale. Even as Crowley didn't dem it possible, smiled even brighter as he had before, a bit of his angelic grace momentarily slipping through, the faint outlines of wings shimmering in the air behind his back.
He hugged Crowley then, soft curls tickeling his counterparts neck as his face lay buried in his neck.
Now, it's important that you are aware of a certain quirk that our angel has. Aziraphale, when extremely happy or content, would accidentally influence his surroundings. Not that a poor man suddenly winning the lottery with the single ticket he'd bought or every rose in the garden blooming in mid-winter was a particularly bad thing, it was just rather odd to most bystanders. And, because Crowley had experienced such phenomenon before and was fully aware of the possibility of it happening at that moment he was only mildly surprised when it stopped raining and every flower in Anathema's garden opened up at once.
"Aziraphale?" they were still hugging, Crowley resting his chin on his angel's shoulder, Anathema smiling and slipping away (before either of them could notice her) to go and get the two of them a slice of cake by their tea as a form of celebration.
"What would you say if I were to wear a dress to our wedding?"
Aziraphale felt like a bit of his heart melted at the fragile tone that barely covered up layers and layers of insecurities his demon had hid away for so long it had become another part of his personality.
"I would tell you that I would be absolutely delighted and quite sure that you would look all kinds of wonderful Crowley."
The demon made a little happy noise in the back of his throat muffled by the angles shoulder as he watched the last of the raindrops race each other down the glass and a soft breeze swept away the clouds to reveal the sun setting between the trees of Anathema's garden.
And the evening sky tinted red and yellow as the sun sank down, at peace with the world she was leaving behind.
