Gathering: Summer Party

[concierge]

Outside of the Nexus Hotel, waiters and hotel staff had begun to set up the umbrellas and the tables in the middle of the day. Soon, it became clear that something was happening in the shadow of the Nexus. White tablecloths were draped on the tables and drinks and food were brought out with the help of several waiters and servers, staffing tables with hot and cold foods beside bartending stations. Summery drinks in bright, neon colors are laid out one by one and soon, the afternoon light casts a radiant look on the scene.

Music plays faintly in the background and a note at the front desk invites all the Nexus guests to head outside and join in on the summer party, which promises to continue going as long as there are people to stay and continue keeping the warm atmosphere rolling.

On the lawn, social games had been set out -- lawn bowling, croquet, and tables were set up with chairs for anyone who didn't quite have the will or the spirit to get into such games. Soon, a small number of people had begun to mill around, but as with all parties, there's always room for more.

Comments

[votecrowley]

He watched all the cogs reel and click about in her head, waiting for the inevitable reaction. After so many years being rather up front about what he was (one didn't exactly buy souls without also adding 'I am a demon' to the exchange) there were few times he saw a new response to the information. There was the disbelief, the fear, the anger, the rage, the acceptance, the canny 'I'll believe you for now'. There was also the 'huh', which was the one she gave.

Which was nice, he'd rather pegged her as a 'no fucking way' sort.

"I used to be a crossroads demon," he said, "but after a bit of corporate sabotage, I climbed the ladder. I run Hell now." More or less; bucking responsibility, while not usually his bag, certainly had become more of a habit. It was all the human blood; it had tweaked something, he was sure. At the mention of a song, he grinned. "Oh, really?" he asked. "Hm. Though maybe you're thinking of an occultist."

[sixsciencecredits]

Darcy wasn't quite drunk yet, so his explanation of his current situation allowed for a bit more reflection than it might've had he waited to appear four drinks later. It struck her as entirely strange that there were such things as 'corporate ladders' as far as demons were concerned, but she supposed there were bound to be power plays in any species. That she happened to be talking to the fellow that had climbed his way to the top just then was also interesting. Might've explained the sharp suit. Dress for the job you want, right?

"What's a crossroads demon?" She asked, figuring her own ignorance on the types of demons was the best place to start in terms of understanding whom and what she was speaking to. "I'm a bit shady as far as my demon types go. And an occultist? Really? Damn. Here I was hoping I was talking with someone famous."

[votecrowley]

"Well, my dear," he said, because this was definitely not the first - though hopefully maybe the last, since he'd left the role of a salesman behind, or so he'd hoped - time he'd talked about this. "Say you want something - no, you need something. Your very existence seems to depend on it. You head out to a crossroads - one that isn't paved, so hard to find in this age of technology - and you bury a little box of voodoo, and the next thing you know you've summoned a crossroads demon."

He motioned to her with his glass. "Each human body houses a soul," he said. "They're very valuable. Hell will pay almost any earthly price for one. Your crossroads demon makes most of the deals. It's the stuff of all the good horror movies and urban legends."

Finally setting aside the glass, he added, "And I definitely mean to brag when I say I am famous, but alas, I've yet to inspire a good song."

[sixsciencecredits]

Darcy took a long drink while Crowley talked, keeping her eyes on him in a show of interest as she did so, but needing something to do with herself while she thought about what he said. It was a frightening thought to consider that one's soul could be bartered away so easily. Frightening, and strangely fascinating too. Darcy was suddenly very sorry that she'd asked him to explain himself further, as she had a sinking sensation that the solution he'd just explained was the sort that wiggled into one's brain like a worm and set up a nest. She had no doubt that the next time she felt she truly, direly needed something that was far out of her grasp, what he just said would come to her, if only briefly. It was only human nature, and it was a thing that, she was sure, slick motherfuckers like this one counted on.

She resisted the urge to chase that line of questioning even further, settling for a nod, then smiling at his claim to being famous. "Well, I dunno," she said. "Maybe that Ozzy song is about you. Who can truly decipher what he's trying to say anyways? I don't know if you need parseltongue or maybe just early onset Alzheimer's to really pick up what Ozzy's putting down, but it's certainly beyond me."