Still trying to catch up posting on so much riches so this will not be as thoughtfully detailed as this story deserves.
But among 20th century war stories in this fandom, it's nearly unique for its almost lush sensory notes, the beat pauses over a sharply observed huddle of deviled eggs quivering with the tremors of not so distant bomb concussions or the way Aizraphale felt as if he were facing a wild baboon without the safety of bars at being the only civilian in a pub of military, Tiny, flaring moments like the angel's protectiveness at seeing the American soldier touching Crowley too many times, or how too much alcohol after unspoken horrors can seem both too little and too much.
I've admired the spare prose of others writing war and still do for how well it conveys the bleakness and horror, but I'd not realized how powerfully jeweled prose could convey the claustrophobia, rotten ripe darkness underneath nor the undercurrent of continual near panic.
no subject
But among 20th century war stories in this fandom, it's nearly unique for its almost lush sensory notes, the beat pauses over a sharply observed huddle of deviled eggs quivering with the tremors of not so distant bomb concussions or the way Aizraphale felt as if he were facing a wild baboon without the safety of bars at being the only civilian in a pub of military, Tiny, flaring moments like the angel's protectiveness at seeing the American soldier touching Crowley too many times, or how too much alcohol after unspoken horrors can seem both too little and too much.
I've admired the spare prose of others writing war and still do for how well it conveys the bleakness and horror, but I'd not realized how powerfully jeweled prose could convey the claustrophobia, rotten ripe darkness underneath nor the undercurrent of continual near panic.