daft punk is playing at my house, my house.

[molotovmartinis]

WHO: New Year's Eve Demonic/Celestial Trollothon 2010 (tag in!)
WHAT: a hellish dinner party ( menu, for the lulz DON'T LAUGH AT ME I had fun looking all that shit up)
WHERE: the Counterweight building (the import center)
WHEN: backdated to New Year's Eve, 6:30 PM and onwards
WARNINGS: oh my god so much alcohol
SUMMARY: For the record, Balthazar

Comments

ARRIVALS, STARTERS, & SCHMOOZING

[molotovmartinis]

The sitting area included a few rather art deco couches and other seating before a fireplace, a plasma flatscreen on the mantle tuned into Times Square and muted, and a wide floor-to-ceiling window view of Seattle. A sideboard held a collection of cheeses and wines, and a lower table in the center of the room a selection of tapas.

Re: ARRIVALS, STARTERS, & SCHMOOZING

[sinksducks]

The screech and roar (and jingle) of Crowley's motorcycle on the street outside came to a worryingly abrupt halt in front of the Counterweight building. The sleek black motorbike and its significantly less sleek tartan and fuchsia sidecar would remain there for the rest of the night, their myriad tasteless Christmas lights twinkling garish holiday cheer all up and down the street. It was really pretty conspicuous, but any passersby who thought about stealing it would come down with an appalling headache the moment it crossed their mind and go on to suffer atrociously bad luck throughout the coming new year.

Its rider and passenger tumbled into the room minutes later, plainly already rather drunk*. Nothing like getting a headstart on things to prepare you for spending an evening in the company of the sorts of entities you usually went a long way out of your way to avoid.

"What I'm saying," Crowley was indeed saying, rather heatedly, "is that since your bookshop is nothing remotely special to look at, relatively speaking there was

[squashesdoves]

Aziraphale raised a meaningful and unsteady finger. "I," he declared, "am the owner of a respectable establishment, with an image to maintain. Don't want to scare off customers, do I?" He hesitated a little, then shook his head decisively. "No. You, though, are a... a... a person who rides motorcycles. It's quite different. The whole point of motorcycles is to be ostentatiously, you know, there. In the way. Frequently shiny. Really, all I was doing was helping matters along."

Satisfied that he'd conclusively refuted ridiculous claims of relative ruination, he turned away for a moment to admire the view and, more importantly, examine the sideboard, which was weighed down by what was in Aziraphale's opinion a very acceptable number of champagne bottles. That was if none of the guests that had yet to materialize, teleport in, or boil up through a crack in the Earth's crust wanted any. It seemed a safe enough assumption, from what he'd seen of the personalities in question.

[sinksducks]

"Of course you want to scare off customers," said Crowley - a little distractedly, most of his attention now taken up with surveying the room and its contents. "I was doing you a favour, is what I was doing."

DINNER COURSES: SOUP, SORBET, MAIN, DESSERT

[molotovmartinis]

The long table that had been visible in the network post was in the next room, set all prim and formal with prettily patterned plates, twisty glasses, multiple utensils, and an overall air of austerity. It was looked upon by the wide dark painting, saints and common people clutching various body parts as they fell off/fell out/dangled uselessly.

TROLLTHREAD: I WELCOME ALL THE THREADJACKS

[abrotherlikeyou]

Lucifer sat down delicately at one head of the table, looking at Balthazar expectantly to sit at her right hand. It didn't matter that the demon hadn't directed her to a place setting; she assumed the seat of honor was hers.

Of course, with the amount of alcohol (and somewhat intoxicating foreign demon blood) in her veins, there was no question that her plans for the meal were less than professional. The instant Constantine put food to his lips, he'd find it full of habaneros, guests would be tasting salt in their tea instead of sugar, and that sort of thing. Given the paranoia induced by her damn chip, she was confining herself to small methods of needling people, purely to see how long it took for someone to attempt murder. And hey, if it was her? All the merrier. She'd be damned (or whatever) if she let Gabriel's trolling incite the first blow.

Hey, you never outgrow sibling rivalry, okay?

[gotursoul]

Crowley suddenly appears behind Lucifer's chair, leaning up against it with a raised eyebrow as he looked down the table at all the demons and angels and other entities all sharing a meal together. The idea was ludicrous, and the actual sight of them all sitting and being civil was enough to make him smirk with amusement.

"Isn't this a jolly old tea party?"

[abrotherlikeyou]

"Crowley!" Lucifer said jovially, the chair at her left hand sliding out of its own accord. "Sit."

It wasn't a tone that brooked argument, and when the devil uses a Tone, you can bet it's backed up. She smiled at him widely, gesturing to the seat next to her as if they were old friends, remaining seated the whole time like she was the Queen of Sheba herself.

AFTER DINNER COFFEE ETC.

[molotovmartinis]

M-more alcohol — NO, COFFEE — alcohol in coffee? — I swear to god I am not looking up any more — oh hey cocktails nooooo /closes window

LUCIFER RUINING EVERYTHING: NEWS AT 11

[abrotherlikeyou]

Everything was going so well- right until it started raining blood inside the room. Lucifer appeared on the surface to be as surprised (and peeved) as anybody, but somehow her white dress stayed completely immaculate.

[painhumbles]

Gabriel, at least, had the foresight to bring an umbrella. And spent the next several minutes looking at Lucifer like she was the biggest show-off ever.

"I made my point," he said, leaning back against his chair and twirling his umbrella, flinging droplets of blood obnoxiously on the rest of the guests. As much as he wanted to win, this wasn't about winning anymore.

...Okay, and he still had one more trick up his sleeve, but all in good time.

[abrotherlikeyou]

"I'm sure you did." Ignoring you, Gabriel.

The blood rain was starting to become acidic.