I’m still fighting with this wip, so here’s a snippet, from the section about the punic wars:
–
Aziraphale is looking at him with a rare, undisguised concern, and Crowley bristles uncomfortably. He forgets sometimes that just because Aziraphale acts like he’s perpetually stuck several centuries in the past, that doesn’t mean he’s not aware of current events. “I do hope you weren’t involved in that fighting in Cannae,” Aziraphale says gently. “They say it was quite a mess.”
Something hot flares up in Crowley’s gut. “It wasn’t a mess, angel,” he snaps, hissing the sibilants. “It was a massacre.”
Aziraphale reaches out to touch Crowley again, hand hovering over Crowley’s on the table, but then he seems to think better of it and pulls back. “Well, I’m pleased to see you made it out in one piece.”
Crowley’s not so sure he did. He’s seen plenty of humans die before, sometimes violently; hell, he’d been there at the very first murder. War has run rampant along the whole continent, her hair and torches both flaming. Still, there’s something hollow in Crowley’s chest, cold like a winter midnight in some barren, desolate place.

screechthemighty
blessyouhawkeye