diatu | Demontoberfest

Near the docks the public bars have all been persuaded to throw open their doors and stay open well into the morning hours. Nothing could wash down all the holiness and sanctity of a Festival for the Gods than a few dozen stiff drinks and various other frivolous acts of debauchery.

As a special treat for all of the thirsty revealers a drink called the Demon's Laugh has been crafted. Sometimes it appears pink with swirling blue bubbles while at times it looks green and menacing... will you give this unique concoction a try? It might give you an added energy boost for the upcoming dance competition or like the other strange foods being offered in Anastara it might have an unusual side effect. That is what happens when you use the same cheap magically created grain for your brewery.

Edited 2021-09-11 02:20 (UTC)

Loki was mostly impartial to each festival, insofar in that he didn't really care much other than that he felt somewhat slighted. Not that he was a God of this world, so while it made sense he wouldn't be included... It still didn't make him happy. But he'd been enjoying meeting other students, of all things. He'd never been to a 'demon-celebrating' festival before however, and was curious. Even more so when there was a new drink to try.

SO--the Demon's Laugh. Hiss had been pink, bordering on purple with bubbles that varied between blue and green swirled in. It was good however, and Loki was happy to try it. He wouldn't notice a side-effect until he tries to speak again.

Edited 2021-09-11 15:08 (UTC)

As far as Crowley knew there had never been a demon celebration like this one. Sure back home you Halloween which only vaguely counted as it included so many other spooks and goblins, and then you had your random gatherings of Satanists... But never a party devoted solely to those lost souls known as demons. He was living it up and having a good time. He might even have helpfully suggested Loki throw his own Loki party if he had known this was a sore spot for him. Any excuse for a party!

"Hey."

Have an unspoken toast as he raised his mug and then downed a good portion of the beverage.

Loki raised his back in an unspoken toast, before doing the same. "So, you're a demon then?" It was a natural question. "Or at least friendly to their kind, I ken..." Wait...
He looked puzzled; had he just rhymed? That was new.

In less happier times he could up with a more snarky response but his drink was making him feel much more open and even helpfully truthful.

"Yeah, I'm a demon. If you've ever seen one of those Renaissance paintings, Eve in the Garden with a Serpent behind her, then you've seen me."

A pause in which some of his old humor managed to squeak past any magically altering drink.

"And you are a... poet?"

"Occasionally, though not before unknowingly." Loki said, eyeing his drink. It didn't mean he wasn't going to drink it, necessarily.

"Must be the party atmosphere," And not that devilishly fun looking drink, "It's making everyone think they are rock stars."

While he said that he gestured to one of the older students who had decided to start hopping around the room like a rockabilly kangaroo and playing air guitar with magical music that was created from his moving fingertips. Seemed all in good fun to Crowley and certainly not a spell!

"Kids needed some place to let off some steam. All study and no play makes for..." What did it make for, "Well, bored kids."

"Given what I've observed around the school, it's hardly boring for the students. Though I suppose there are indeed some more dull events." Loki so far hadn't been bored--which was probably a good thing for all involved.

"You think? Maybe it's just me then..."

For it certainly had been boring for Crowley. It was the structured way in which classes were handled, you get up the same time everyday, wear the same outfit, go to the same classes, see the same people... He missed going to clubs, driving ninety down the middle of London, and he missed the freedom of getting up when you wanted to and doing whatever you liked during the rest of the day! So long as the right memos ended up on the right desks at head office no one ever checked up on him to make sure he was getting his work done on time or threatened him with a failing grade for skipping too many classes.

"You haven't gotten the 'I expected so much more from you speech yet?"

"I mean, the school is a little structured compared to being tutored." Loki said. "It could simply be that not every student is suited. Are you having that much difficulty settling in?"

It was an adjustment, but Loki wasn't also opposed to working hard. It helped that he also found the learning of magic interesting, as well as necessary. The formal 'school' was different than his own experience, but also did not seem to be as strict or as terrible as he'd been lead to believe such things were.

"I haven't been getting that speech yet."

"I've never had to do the 'school' thing before... or the tutor thing either."

It didn't help that Crowley was very much opposed to working hard, hedonistic slacker that he was.

"OR the homework! I'm better at causing trouble."

Loki was also a hedonist, but far from a slacker. He worked hard and played hard.

"I can see how that might be an adjustment. But think of it this way. Better to hide and camoflage yourself as a model student. Hide the mischief and trouble under that guise each day."

Okay, why couldn't Loki stop rhyming? It was getting annoying, even if it didn't interfere too much yet. Had to be the drink. Maybe he'd only have one of these...

"Nm, reverse psychology. Celestia already tried that one on me."

He snickered into his glass as the rest of the contents were downed in one final go. It was the rhyming which made the seriousness of the conversation just come across as silly!

"We shouldn't be talking about this, we should be having some fun! Do you dance up there in Asgard?"

"We do, though more formally. I've learned that modern dance is done much more casually." An eyebrow raised, with a hint of smile. "Are you asking for a dance, Mr. Crowley?"

Ever so sly the smirk which took over his expression. Why not? Why not dance with everyone in the place after all...

"It's meant to be a party, isn't it?"

"Now, am I asking you, or you asking me?" Loki grinned. "Or does it really matter, since it is a party. Why don't you show me?" Loki held out his hand with a playful smile that was half-way to a smirk.

"It's a no rules, demon party... so it's not like it matters."

Who asked whom first, ha, what was important was that they were cutting loose and having some fun! Crowley took Loki's hand and practically twirled the pair of them out onto the dance floor. Far from any sort of formal Asgardian dance this was uninhibited demonic dancing, more like a mosh pit at a rowdy concert with people who were rhythmically challenged.

Sure there had been dancing earlier but now one could really let loose. Demons danced, not well... but with a flare and certain wild abandon that could not be matched in more sanctified dances. And this was a contest! Get out there, dance on tables, chairs, and twirl around lampposts! There is a prize for the winner! Your demonic hosts won't say what the prize it, only that it's good, and you want to try to win it so use your best dance moves!

The kindly, well-mannered Mr. Fell who only shows up for three-fourths of his classes but somehow still manages not to seem like a slacker or hooligan, eventually leaves the party of the gods and ends up down at the docks for a drink at the pub. He looks very at home with a drink in his hand, watching with wry amusement at the demonic antics.

"It's really far less of a dichotomy than they'd have you believe--demon, angel, heaven, hell. That sort of thing. They all have much more in common, honestly, underneath the dressings and particular, what do you call it-- Oh, dear. Has my drink always been that green?"

The wickedly, rude, Mr. Crowley who only shows up for three-fourths of his classes but still manages to pass his pop quizzes was dancing. Sort of. It was more of a shimmy as he waited at the bar to collect a fresh drink for himself and a few ever so sinful cream puffs from the bartender.

"Green? Ohm, it does that."

He barely looked at his purchases before snatching them all up and plopping the whole lot down in front of Aziraphale.

"You're drunk!" He ever so helpfully and equally drunkenly replied, "I've never heard you say anything like that before. It was all... get thee behind me Satan and--"

And I'm an angel you are a demon, its over... That he wisely chose to forget he had ever heard even if it had resurfaced long enough to stab at him again.

"Heretical enemies!"

Crowley stared down into his glass as it too turned green.

"This must be really good stuff."

Edited 2021-09-11 05:51 (UTC)

"Not drunk enough to agree that this is good." A pause, and then he gave careful consideration of a person who was a bit drunk and realizing he was at a demon party, so things really shouldn't be 'good,' exactly. "Or wicked." He put the drink aside (it wasn't bad, the angel just was picky) and, with a raise of his brows, silently asked may I? about the newly arrived dessert.

"Though I suppose the drink isn't the only one who can change his--its--their--colors. Colors? Stripes? Stripes, but it's not striped." How dare it not be striped. "I told you, Crowley, we're friends."

The plater of cream puffs was sitting right there in the middle of the table. Crowley wasn't going to say a thing if any of the treats disappeared and gestured in a 'help yourself' manner to indicate as much. Acting as a temptation for a certain angel was the only reason they had been ordered in the first place. He meanwhile was quite content with his green, nay... now red drink, for the moment unaware of there being any side effects.

"Yea, friends, of course we're friends."

Friends. For some reason hearing that word sent him back into his glass for a long swig.

"You're my best friend. Always have been..."

And more than that. If he were truthful and open about his feelings, there had always been more than that too. Aziraphale could turn a shitty day around, make him laugh, give him some one to confide in, spent time with... If only all those feelings could be shown.

"We should dance."

He wiggled and picked up one of the cream puffs, savoring a slow bite of it along with Crowley's words. Best Friends. Sure, he was utterly in love with this ridiculous demon, but every time they discussed--or at least finally put into words--that they were best friends it brought him such joy. Six millennia of trying to deny it and now he could openly acknowledge that, in so many ways, Crowley had inspired him to laugh and grow as a person, brought meaning to all things great and small. He had thought he was in love when they had been humans, but how truly lacking that feeling had been. What they shared as themselves was so much more complex--

The suggestion caught him off guard. Dance here? This was hardly the kind of place for any of the dances Aziraphale was trained in. Surely Crowley had to realize this was not, as the children say, his type of scene.

With a snap, the plate of desserts vanished to someplace safe for later snacking and he met Crowley's gaze as he finished off the cream puff and wiped his fingers on a napkin.

"Perhaps you ought to ask me, then."

Crowley had his arguments all lined up. 'Dance here?' Aziraphale would say and Crowley would come at him with a, 'Why not? I thought drinks weren't the only ones who could change their colors.' Calling out what the angel had just said would throw his game off. Then he would stand up, extend a hand, and offer to show Aziraphale how to do the slither. After a few thousand years on Earth he could stand to learn more than just the one dance.

Only this wasn't what happened at all and it was Crowley's game that was thrown off. Aziraphale was accepting a dance without having his wing twisted or needing to be persuaded into it? All he had to do was ask? It sounded far too good to be true and he approached the asking with all the due suspicion it deserved, like if he handled this with anything other than the most gentle of touches the dream might burst and he would find himself sitting here alone with his drink. Speaking as softly as one might to a newborn kitten he held out a hand.

"Care to dance, Angel?"

Drinks weren't the only things that could change their colors, after all.

Crowley was so sweet, so soft with him, not the usual bravado and temptation. It was charmingly fragile, whatever this mood was, and he wished he could forego the dancing altogether and take Crowley somewhere quieter, where there wasn't strange loud music and other people. Where the glasses might even come off.

He placed his hand in Crowley's. "With you? I thought you'd never ask." As he pushed out his chair and stood, he gave a little wiggle of delight and playfully asked, "Do you think your record-jockey will take requests? I'm not sure we can gavotte to this."

Record-jockey! This was now not the 80s. That was a DJ and the tunes he was dishing out were all being magically created through some swishy-swashy wand slinging that Crowley couldn't even begin to understand.

Not that he could say any of that. The words had been taken when his hand was. Soft, the hands of a bookman's that have been carefully maintained in order to protect his precious pages, and warm, far warmer than he had ever dreamed it could have been.

"This isn't the sort of music you gavotte to, Angel."

With him. The music paled around them, suddenly feeling like it was the wrong pace. The tempo was too fast, the lyrics conveyed the wrong feeling. But his DJ did take requests and a snap of the fingers soon had a new song title sitting in front of the able record-jockey.

"You dance like this."

The hand holding his was given a little tug, pulling Aziraphale in close enough so that Crowley's other hand could rest snuggly upon the small of his back. The Waltz had never been something he had spent a great time learning but one could sway gently to the beat of the music, even risk leaning in nearer to his friend's ear... everyone was drunk by now anyway, no one would notice.

Thousands of years, multitudes of universes and memories, kisses and much more--and simply being close to Crowley still left Aziraphale weak at the knees. He was drunk on the moment as Crowley led them away from their table to dance. The music could have been anything--even that ridiculous ukulele cacophony--and Aziraphale would have tolerated it to enjoy a dance with his demon.

But as the music shifted, he took note of a familiar vocalist. Ah, Queen. Of course.

He'd had plans to tell Crowley his feelings, eventually, but had gotten rather hung up on figuring out how best to court him. Crowley deserved a proper courtship, but it seemed the universe had ways of making things happen regardless of plans; he and Crowley had always circled each other like hopelessly enamored celestial bodies, drawn closer by their combined gravity. And here they were again, unable to keep from each other's orbit.

He welcomed being drawn in, all glowing smiles and no shyness, and cradled Crowley's shoulders in his own embrace as they swayed mostly, somewhat, in time with the music. His friend's breath was warm against his cheek, a wordless temptation he was fairly sure at first that Crowley didn't intend.

But the words of the song, which Aziraphale couldn't recall ever properly hearing before now, were undisputedly romantic, a plea by the singer for his love to look and see, to understand that everything they do takes the singer's breath away. In another lifetime he could have pretended he didn't hear--they were very good at that.

Don't leave me here all by myself
I get ever so lonely from time to time
I will find you
Anywhere you go, I'll be right behind you
Right until the ends of the earth

"I want you beside me, always."

It was a trick of the dance, an illusion brought on by the heavy drinking, the dim mood lighting, and the yearning song. He had secretly hoped Aziraphale would take notice and wish to stay by his side as much as he wished to stay by his Angel's but it wasn't likely to happen. He couldn't say how he felt, truly he wasn't even sure his mouth could form the words, and Aziraphale had always had very good reasons for keeping his sinful self at wing's length.

The dance had made them both as giddy as the drink had, making them think the the wild impossible was actually possible. It was foolish. As foolish as picking that one song out of the dozens of Queen melodies he could have chosen! It was stupid! Some how his drink addled mind had picked the one song that left little doubt as to his true feelings.

And yet still, he stayed with the dance. Wanting to pretend for just that little bit longer that this was actually real.

"You're drunk Angel. Probably as drunk as I am."

Wasn't that all it was?

"So?" Really, Crowley was ruining a perfectly lovely moment by reminding him he was drunk. If he'd wanted someone to police his good time, he would have invited Alec to play overbearing chaperone, or stayed at the party at the Temples. What did being drunk have to do with his undying affection for his demonic best friend? Some of their best times together went along with a glass of wine or a pint of mead. He pulled back to watch Crowley properly as they spoke. "I've been drunk plenty of times and it hasn't stopped us from having very honest conversations, I think. Dare I say sometimes blasphemly--" The word tied his tongue and he frowned and tried again, perturbed that it might be supporting Crowley's argument. "Blasphemously honest."

On both sides, really. They'd had their secrets, naturally they'd kept secrets, but they had also divulged entirely too much about their opinions, respective missions and head offices to be wholly kosher.

"Of course if you don't want me to say such things, I won't," he promised and gave a coy shrug. "At least not where you might hear."

"I don't want you to say anything you'll regret... Something you will have to take back in the morning."

To be reminded tomorrow that he was a demon and Aziraphale was an angel, there would always be a dividing line between them. Or worse, that he had moved too fast, that his company needed to be withdrawn for a few centuries when in actuality he would give anything to hear Aziraphale say, 'I want you beside me, always' again. They had just graduated to friends, best friends, and nothing should compromise that!

[OOC: You get to ICly vote for the winner of the dance off. Try to be fair and pick whose ever dancing your character would be most thrilled with. The winner of the popular vote gets the prize. ]

Opps! I mean... everyone planned on that happening, right? With all the party-goers getting into the 'no rules, do what ever you like,' atmosphere of the wild evening some one was bound to slip up and summon some demonic-like creature from Hell -- Or whatever the equivalent was on this world. It was a good nine feet tall, bright orange, and ever watchful as it spied on every single person near it. The beast appeared to have an eye for everyone! Was it friendly, evil, only angry when provoked by death metal ukulele? The only way to find out would be to walk up to it and say 'hey'.

Ronstadt had been on his third beer and working up the courage to try the specialty cocktail, when the summoning happened. A hit to his Craydar wasn't sobering, necessarily, but it definitely rocked him off his barstool. He managed to catch himself and keep from eating floor, but when he got to his feet, his eyes were blazing white.

"Whoa. Well, uh. This is new. ... Who invited Tall, Bright, and Scary?"

A kid on the other side of the room squeaked, ducked under a table, and some how managed to scuttle/run her way out the nearest door. It was a first year Sundering student who shouldn't have been here and did not want to get detention for this! Good luck with the big eyeball clad monster!

"Hey - hey, kid!" Ronstadt called after her, but it was too late. He threw back his head with a groan, then took a breath and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Great, time to deal with this solo, I guess," he muttered under his breath, before looking up at the creature and giving it a wave. "Hi. I guess now that you're here you might as well stay for the party? Unless you don't want to, in, uh ... in which case I'm sorry. I don't think she knew what she was doing."

[ OOC: Funnily enough in ooc conversations BJ said he too would have invited the creature to the party. Small things I find humor in. ^,^ ]

The creature wiggled, a bit like a bowl of jello, in what might either have been a wave of its own or its stomach gurgling viciously enough for the movement to be visible across the monster's body. Hard to tell really. More clearly the creature raised one of its eight arms and pointed to a single eye which sat right in the middle of its belly. It wanted something, but what?

"Eye in your stomach? Uh. Um." Ronstadt made the obvious guess, as he glanced around. "I can show you the snack table. It's pretty decent, even without guacamole. But I guess this place doesn't have avocados, so. That makes sense. ... What do you eat, anyway? ... Please don't say souls, I don't think we have a surplus of those."

The monster lumbered forward, that one eye he had pointed at opening just like a mouth so that a large pink tongue could flick out and lick Ronstadt's face.

"Oi!" A new voice chimed in from some where behind, "It's not that kind of party, there are kids here. You and your date might want to take that some where private."

Yes, death metal ukulele. Played by the demon with wild green hair, who was obviously enjoying himself far too much.

Upon request he'd play tunes in other genres, perhaps more suited to the ukulele. And it was possible to distract him with conversation or compliments, if you wanted a Netherworld demon at your side for the rest of the festival.

Both a 'ukulele' and 'death metal' were new for Loki, who was pleasantly drunk as well. It wasn't bad though, even if parts of it sounded like so much noise to his ears. Any suggestions he has are for drinking songs however, and he might be inclined to sing along.

Beetlejuice had been introduced to Death Metal by Lydia, oddly enough. He'd been familiar enough with metal music in general, but, it had been new for him. He mostly amused himself with general rock and the crooners of the forties.

(He missed his stabby, goth friend.)

"Drinking songs, eh?" Beetlejuice hummed. "Anything particular in mind, fella?"

"Something from your world. Part of the fun is learning new ones, yes?" Loki grinned and raised his glass up in a toast. "I pick things up fast, and will give it my best."

Demontoberfest

DRINK

Drunken God of Mischief anyone?

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DANCE OFF

Aziraphale / Mr. Fell - drinking but not dancing

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DANCE OFF - VOTING

ACCIDENTAL SUMMONING

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those two get along way too well

Bj has too many fun ideas

Death Metal Ukulele

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