009 | Video | Day 115

[tryingitall]

[Balthazar appears in the feed looking bored and restless. He's run out of alcohol, in point of fact, and he's stressed about it. The cure, obviously, is conversation.]

Kore. I've decided to follow in our dear Castiel's wingprints, albeit belatedly. Believe it or not, I'm an angel of the Lord. And the handful of you who didn't already know that are welcome to ask questions.

For everyone else: did you know that the meter of 'Amazing Grace' is such that it can be sung not only to the traditional tune, but also to the tunes of both 'House of the Rising Sun' and the theme song from Gilligan's Island? [How does he know this? It may be better not to ask.]

I'll prove it if someone insists, but you'll be sorry. This vessel isn't built for singing.

Comments

[tryingitall]

He does. I couldn't explain it if I tried. It's just there and I can't shake the feeling.

[He pauses and makes a tiny grimace.] That sounded like the lyrics to some teen-pop song, didn't it? I'm pathetic.

Anyway, I'm at least the third on his dance card. Maybe further down the list than that, even. And I don't have long, back home. [Maybe it's better Cas stick with Dean just because he has a knack for coming back from the dead that Balthazar and Meg don't seem to have developed.

He goes still when she kisses him, eyes half closing. Now there's a kindness he wasn't expecting. When she draws back, he smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, and smooths back her hair once, equally gentle. He nods, accepting the sympathy silently, then slides his arm lightly around her waist.]

Thank you, love. Shall we forget this maudlin shite now and go for a swim?

[foundacause]

[ It's about the most honest she's been about her feelings for Cas too. Balthazar should feel honoured. Sure, she's sort of talked to Dean about it but she had to make it into some lame story about unicorns, squirrels and panthers. And she kind of talked to Lucifer about it but that was just all kinds of awkward.

She leans into his side. She's all for moving away from depressing feelsy crap. ]

You'll have to check the salt levels of the water... unless that was your plan all along - to bring me out here and drown me in salt water.

[tryingitall]

That sounds like it could be gruesome, actually. No, if I ever feel the need to kill you, it'll be quick and clean. I assume you'd do the same for me. [Despite the morbid chatter, he gives her a light, friendly squeeze, and smiles.]

I'll check for you, but the spring isn't far from here. Likely this is as fresh as the water gets.

[foundacause]

I try not to make a habit of killing pretty feathersacks, but yeah, if I ever need to kill you I'll make it quick.

[ She hopes it doesn't come to that. Her list of friends is pretty short and she'd rather not shorten it any further. ]

Such a gentleman. [ She smiles at him, enjoying the company. ]

[tryingitall]

Fair enough. [Recovering from the sentimental moment, he slips out of her grasp and takes a few quick, loping steps toward the stream ahead. Sliding down the bank, he steps out on to a large rock and dips his hands in the water. It's very clear here, waist deep at best, and probably chilly.

He tastes the mouthful of water and shrugs.] Should be fine, if you want to give it a try. I'll try to keep you warm.

[foundacause]

[ Meg follows him and once she reaches the bank she removes her boots, followed by her jacket, her t-shirt and her jeans. She's definitely not shy when it comes to her body; even is her vessel carries the scars from her altercations with Crowley.

She dips a cautious toe into the water and when it doesn't burn she steps in. Chilly is a bit of an understatement! ]

Jeez. It's cold.

[servingmichael]

[ The church, is repaired though the carpet is now a rich, deep green. The two front pews where recently damaged and now repaired, and the cracks in the stained glass are repaired but the colors along the former fractures are altered just slightly - most humans wouldn't notice, but Raphael is leaving his fingerprints all over.

The books however, are removed. No bibles or hymnals in the little shelves on the backs of the pews. There is one hymnal though, with a (new) green silk ribbon marking the page. ]

Come in.

[tryingitall]

[Scars or not, he gives her an appreciative glance, holding out his hand as if to help her down. The vessel she's in is very pretty; he wonders fleetingly if her real body, when she was alive and human, looked anything like it.]

Oh, don't whine. [He grins, teasing, and snaps his fingers to shed his clothing down to the underwear. Figures he'd be wearing satin boxers. He steps in next to her.] You'll get used to it. I'll splash you, if it'll help.

[foundacause]

[ That's one thing he'll be left wondering for a long time. She doesn't talk too much about her human life; not even her appearance. Her name is definitely out - after all, with a name her remains could be found and torched. Not that it much matters now since she's practically dead back home thanks to Crowley.

But her current vessel? Definitely cute. And kinda tiny.

And she definitely gives him the once over in return. He's definitely a man of style and class. She likes that about him. ]

Splash me and I claw your pretty face off.

[tryingitall]

[Balthazar's wings fold close against his back as he enters. He respects a church, even if he questions some of the tenets of the humans who attend such places. Such places have a life of their own, whether it's from the force of human faith or the spirit of the Creator in attendance.

Raphael's certainly made the place his own. Balthazar finds himself in approval, walking softly on the carpet.] Hello. This is pretty.

[tryingitall]

[He imagines it would be impolite to ask. Besides, it's easier not to think of the mortal girl she might once have been, much less wonder what led her to lose or sell her soul. Too late to change, and not his business anyway.

He's not sure how classy he is, but style, sure! He's also quite well-built; he owes his vessel for that one.]

Ooh! You're feisty. Fine, I'll be good. [He leans against her side, offering body heat to keep her from hypothermia.]

[foundacause]

[ He definitely got himself a good meatsuit, no doubt about it. Second prettiest angel on the whole Cape. Not that she spends a great deal of time checking out the meatsuits of the other angels.

And hypothermia? Really? She's a demon. How many demons has he seen in his long existence die of hypothermia? That said, the shared body heat is kinda nice. ]

Feisty? Me? I'm a pussy cat.

[servingmichael]

[ Raphael approves of the soft entrance, tracing a hand over the wood of one pew. ]

Thank you. You should see it with the light shining through the glass. I always liked when they did this.

[hung_garian]

Warning: front three rows may get splashed.

[He doesn't say anything else for the rest of that ritual - too busy chanting, and even Gabriel can only reasonably manage to say one thing at a time - but when it's over he grins over.]

Worked in San Fran in '06. [He leans over the vat, examining it. It's still bubbling, and it still smells like ... well, as if half a year's worth of fermentation had just taken place in the space of a few minutes, but there's no obvious immediate danger. He dips a finger in and licks it, heedless of hygiene or, y'know, burning his finger, and makes a face.] Not the best, but passable. Could use some more sugar-- but I suppose it isn't done just yet.

[Back to the cupboards, to search out some glasses. Sure, he could just snap them into being, but they're doing this the almost human way. Though he has to resort to going on tiptoe, he manages to find some - on the top shelf! who put them there! it was probably just to spite him - and plonks them down on the table.]

So-- didja get all that? You're making it next time, so for your sake I hope you didn't miss any of the details.

[tryingitall]

[He's never seen a demon die of anything other than smiting, really, and Meg wouldn't be the one he'd choose to start with.]

A pussy cat. Compared to whom? [He laughs quietly and strokes a finger up her spine.] So I'm allowed to pet you, then?

[tryingitall]

[He breaks into a small, happy smile, nodding.] Stained glass is marvelous. I knew a glassblower in Chicago not long ago. An art student. She did some leaded glass as well. Remarkable work...

[He's not there to talk art, though, is he? He sits lightly in one of the pews and scoops up the hymnal.] You already marked the place for me?

[tryingitall]

Well, it smells like a fraternity carpet on Sunday morning. [Balthazar grins. It's not necessarily a complaint.

He's observing very closely, of course, but he shakes his head at Gabriel's assertion that it's his turn next time.] Don't tease! You didn't even tell me what herbs you used. Besides, I can't just snap my fingers and make rhinestone cauldrons appear, you know.

[foundacause]

[ Meg has. It's not pretty. Unless she's the one doing the killing - then it's beautiful. She's a demon. She's allowed to have double standards. ]

Pretty sure you're already petting me whether you're allowed to or not. [ Not that she particularly minds. Just be glad she isn't one of those kitty cats who let you stroke them tummy only for them to tear your wrist and hand to pieces. ]

[servingmichael]

How long ago is 'not long ago'?

[ He knew how quickly time passed for the humans they became fond of. ]

I did yes.

[hung_garian]

Lovely, isn't it? Coco Chanel's been trying to get my secret for years.

[He can't quite hide the mischievous little grin that says he's not serious about making Balthazar do it. He settles for just grabbing a ladle from by the cooker and filling the glasses with the (now less bubbly and considerably more stable looking) mead. He hands one to Balthazar, and raises his own in toast.]

Bottoms up.

[tryingitall]

A bit over a year. While I was in hiding. I wasn't completely decadent on earth, you know. Just self-indulgent.

[He smiles faintly and shrugs, then, thinking nothing of it, he opens the hymnal to the marked page.]

[tryingitall]

[He won't be asking for those stories. Some angels like smiting and killing, but he's never been that kind, for whatever reason. Or at least, if he has, his memories of it are long since erased.]

Hmm. I'd stop if you told me to bugger off, you know. But you said you were itchy. [Now that wandering hand is twining into her hair.] So where shall I start scratching?

[tryingitall]

Better Chanel than Axe, I suppose. [Balthazar's grin widens, because he was just a teeny bit afraid Gabriel meant the threat, and it's good to know it was just a tease.

Accepting the glass, he holds it at eye level to study the contents with interest, then taps it gently against Gabriel's.] Cheers! And thank you, you're brilliant.

[Aww. And he hasn't even tasted the mead yet.]

[foundacause]

[ She smirks. ] Oh, I'm pretty sure you know your way around a female meatsuit well enough not to need my guidance on how to make me purr.

[ Is that a challenge? Maybe. But hey, he's the one with the wandering hands. ]

[servingmichael]

No, I don't know. Castiel just declared war, in my case.

[ Which is probably why he's willing to bend - he didn't want a war and really, the reality that a little brother he loved was waging war on him hadn't really sunk in.

There's nothing there, or at least nothing that looks out of place. Nothing at all, until Balthazar actually sings the hymn. ]