(no subject)

[sunlighter]

WHO: Lucifer and YOU
WHERE: Revīvēscere, Heropa
WHEN: Sometime in July
WHAT: Come have a drink with Satan
WARNINGS: Religious sacrilege likely, will update as needed



[The only convenience of having been previously been a place of worship is that his bar, Revīvēscere, seemed exempt from paying both income and property taxes. It's not as though he would have paid anyway, but finding himself bereft of the hassle was a pleasant consequence. Instead, he spent his days in the company of others, both endemic and imPort, offering drink and an ear, and always with a subtly conniving smile, to those who would look for it. Sipping his drink, he recalls once Martin Luther saying, "So when the devil says to you do not drink, answer him, 'I will drink, and right freely, just because you tell me not to.'"

Martin Luther was an idiot.]

Comments

[nightmarist]

[Ronan has reviewed his orders carefully. He's forbidden to run but also forbidden to offer himself up. He can neither sacrifice himself nor destroy himself, and he doesn't have the power to seal himself away with an enchantment unaided. He's meant to stay locked up at the Meadows when unsupervised, safe behind protective wards. But no one specified the terms, exactly, which means he technically isn't violating them by being here.

He orders a stout and parks himself at the edge of the bar, waiting to be discovered or otherwise wasting his time. The place is full enough to give Ronan the sense that he won't be straight-up killed or kidnapped, but that may be a naive assumption. It's possible that nothing here is real, including the other patrons.]

[sunlighter]

[Patrons steer clear of the seats on either side of Ronan, as though they'd been reserved long in advance before he'd even arrived. Dinah Washington plays softly in the background, singing 'This bitter earth, Well what a fruit it bears, What good is love, Mmm, that no one shares?'

Lucifer takes a seat besides him, a soft smile on his face as though he'd been expecting him for some time. The tender behind the bar sets a drink in front of him almost instantly, and he takes a lingering sip from the rim of the glass before acknowledging the boy.]

Hello, Ronan. I hope the beer is to your taste. [But of course it is. What is this place if not to cater to desires?]

[nightmarist]

[Ronan bites down the fuck you that wants to spill from his lips. His friends don't deserve to be eviscerated for his bad manners.]

It's fine.

[It's better than fine. The beer is perfect. It tastes like it was specifically crafted for Ronan, and maybe it was. The next sip is a little harder to swallow. He keeps his eyes on the glass.]

[dun_moch]

[Count Dooku enters Revivescere (don't ask me to type the accents), looks around, and wrinkles his nose. He appreciated this place much more when it was a church. Dooku has about as much use for religion as he does for drunkenness, but at least a church has a grandeur to it he could respect.

Well. No matter. He will make an introduction to this latest incarnation of Lucifer, and see if he can establish the same connection he enjoyed with his predecessors. The Count approaches the bar and orders a glass of the most expensive red wine they have available, then looks around to see if he can spot the owner.]

[sunlighter]

[The bartender behind the counter is quiet, but offers a delicate smile as Ella Fitzgerald's Starlit Hour plays in the background. He pours the Count a glass of a 1992 bottle of Screaming Eagle Cabernet Sauvignon, perhaps one of the most expensive bottles of wine on the planet-- how Lucifer obtained it is entirely a mystery. Still, the liquor will smell strongly of blackcurrants and toasty oak, ripe and full-bodied, with a sweet creaminess in the mouth. Smoked almonds accompany the drink in a small, decorative bowl.

With time to savor the drinks and music, the bar's proprietor steps into the empty space besides him and reaches for a fresh drink; for him, this is a 1958 Highland Park single malt scotch.]

[dun_moch]

[Dooku lifts the glass delicately, sniffs the bouquet, nods his approval, and sips. He raises his eyebrows in appreciation as he lowers the glass back down.]

A fine vintage. This planet's products can sometimes be a pleasant surprise.

[He turns his head to regard Lucifer, then raises his glass.]

My compliments to the owner.

[trouvaille]

( Gwen doesn't find herself often in Heropa, but the lure of a bar that was formerly a church - even aside from its proprietor - appeals to her contrariness and her tendency to poke at the juxtapositions of human faith. It strikes her as having rather more honesty than an actual church, for one thing, the sort of places which allowed her to be baptised exclusively for her father to impress a woman.

Also, she still hasn't found a suitable alternative to Alkahest. So. Trying out every bar and nightclub that comes to her attention - )

Can you do a 20th Century?

[sunlighter]

[The clean cut man behind the counter smiles quietly and fills a cocktail shaker with the velvety creme de cacao and gin mixture, using a dry gin, Death's Door, before straining it into a coupe glass with a twist of lemon as though he'd been making the drink for centuries. He slides it to her along with a small bowl of roasted cashews and then departs with a nod, making room for Lucifer, who has chosen a black suit for today.]

Not a drink ordered very often. Still, you'll find Lucas can prepare most drinks.

[trouvaille]

( Because it's summer and because Gwen is that way, she is, herself, in almost entirely white; wide culottes, bra-top, cropped cardigan, her handbag. Her necklace is gold, carved roses, and her flat mary-janes are the brightest red she could find in the store.

Under the illusions constantly wrapped around her, there is probably some dog hair on her trousers, but what's the point of glamour if you can't use it to keep your whites blindingly white. )

I will have to test that theory, ( saluting him with her glass, ) I can think of any number of cocktails you don't hear ordered nearly often enough.

( She should drink less than she does, faerie tolerance being what it isn't, but shan't, and also fuck you, that's why. )

Gwen.

[glassfall]

[Cinders strolls into Revīvēscere, plopping her bag into its usual place. Seeing that Lucifer's glass is nearly empty, she goes to refill it - she knows what he expects of her by now. Besides, it's not as if she finds this job to be difficult, not after Carmosa and everything.]

Good evening!

[And here, she smirks a little, amused.]

They're back again. Haven't they anything better to do?

[sunlighter]

No. [He replies simply, retrieving his glass to take a seat by the fireplace.]

You'll find religion to be an enduring pestilence.

[glassfall]

[Cinders chuckles, moving to wipe down the bar.]

When I was younger, my father never took me to church. Instead, he would tell me about the fairies.

[He was a good man, but he'd been rather unaware of what the Fair Folk were actually like.]

Do they really hate you so?

[It seems odd, when they're all too terrified to speak to him, but people can be stupid.]

[jojoceanman]

[Jotaro doesn't really go to bars for drinking regularly. He prefers to buy cheap beer from a can and have it at home while he writes. But he walks by Revīvēscere in the evening on his way home from work and remembers the so-called Lucifer himself talking about it. His more casual clothes may not suit the air of the establishment, but he goes inside anyway.

Yet once seated by the bar, his eyes gloss over the menu and he realizes that he doesn't really favor any of the more pricey drinks.]

Any recommendations for a man with no taste?

[sunlighter]

[The bartender opens a bottle of light lager and pours the copper colored malt down the side of a large, cold stein. Jotaro may note a tropical fruit and citrusy hop aroma, with a dry and pleasantly bitter finish in the mouth-- or maybe not, considering he just enjoys cheap beer. It is, however, one of their more preferred pale lagers.

Lucifer, on the other hand, is not sitting at the bar. Instead, he already has a glass of scotch by the fireplace, reading a book by Proust, as Fine and Mellow by Billie Holiday plays in the background.]

[jojoceanman]

[The citrus taste catches him off-guard, but after a second sip he comes to quickly like it. Many things Jotaro is particular about. The tailoring of his clothes, always wearing a cap and trench coat, and being specific with his word choices. Alcohol, on the other hand, he is easy to please.

He pays and leaves a good tip, nodding his thanks for the drink, before turning around in his seat to take a better look at the bar. Definitely not his sort of place. He just dislikes being in public, always paranoid of the dangers that could be involved. He's not afraid, not for himself anyway, but healthy caution hasn't steered him wrong yet.

Though he does catch Lucifer by the fireplace, remembering his appearance from the video transmission, and decides to approach. No, he doesn't really care that Lucifer seems busy reading. In anything, he's curious.]

Good read? [He asks, holding his stein still half-full in hand by its handle, and taking a seat across from the man.]

[heckblazer]

[ It's not exactly a place that John is excited about, given that it's Lucifer's bar. But, he did have good taste in refreshments and was a better sport than anticipated.

The former Morningstar tended to be someone that managed to steer clear of John's path of paranormal destruction, which was impressive given how long and wide it got to be. An agreement to not give the other trouble had never been formally agreed upon, but occasionally, John remembered that some people were more trouble than they were worth. Lucifer, having withdrawn his hand from divine meddling if memory served, was such a sort. Still, John wondered whether the uneasy peace was threatened merely by them being in closer proximity to each other.

But more to the point, the bar had a decent gin collection that served perfectly for numbing any feelings John may have about being ported back into this shite world. Half in the bag, he glances at the proprietor: ]

Y'know, people tellin' me this world isn't Hell and I dunno if I believe 'em. Guess not if you're here, unless they were dumb enough to pull the wool over your eyes, too.

[sunlighter]

[But what was John Constantine to Lucifer really? After all, John's archnemesis, the demon who had caused him some of the greatest and most enduring pain in his life, the First of the Fallen, was nothing to the Morningstar. So, for all of John's brazenness towards the divine and devilish in his time on Earth, did the archangel consider him a threat?

Sitting comfortably in his chair by the piano, comfortably reading one of his books as the magi drank gin at his bar, the answer would appear to be a resounding no.]

I would think you would have more urgent company than me if that were the case, don't you?

[heckblazer]

'praps you're right. Unless they're going for some sort of boiling frog business. But I think they'd want me to know I was suffering.

[ He gives him that concession, at least. Although he suspects that if Lucifer hadn't retired from the fire and brimstone business, it might've been him causing John all that grief. Though, it was doubtful he would have taken the same pleasure in it as the First did. And at the very least, John deserved rivals who would take the job seriously.

Curious more than annoyed at his regarding of John as something akin to a bee, he turns and watches him a moment, then ever-so-eloquently blurts his next remark. ]

Ever miss it?

[bindsthedead]

[Sabriel's come to visit, although she's skipping the alcohol. Underage drinking isn't a rule she feels bound to, but it's often not worth the trouble to break it in unfamiliar territory. Still, she seems to be... not miserable as she listens to the music and watches the other patrons.]

[sunlighter]

[Lucifer sits at his piano, a beautiful, vintage Steinway baby grand, and plays John Coltrane's Naima. The patrons around her listen quietly while simultaneously involved in their own quiet vices, here to escape the lives they have outside his doors for something a little more honest. As he finishes, they clap politely and a jazz record resumes playing without leaving too much of a silent interlude before he takes a seat across from her.]

[bindsthedead]

[Sabriel claps with the rest as he finishes. When he comes over to her, she looks puzzled. The previous Lucifer had both frightened and enraged her. This one... she's not sure what to think. So she straightens up and looks at him with a mix of wariness and curiousity.]

You play well.

[pummelgranite]

[ She doesn't come as often as one might think, but when she does she stays a long time. Almost always it's alone, unaccompanied by Inanna or anyone else. She takes as isolated a booth as she can, and unambiguously shuts down almost any offers of company- the patron himself being the primary exception, of course.

She's not there to talk, or sing, and certainly not to mingle. Mostly just to drink her gin and watch. ]

[sunlighter]

[When she finds him here, Lucifer is by the fireplace and reading a book. He notices her come in and sit, watching her out of the corner of his eye. The people who come in here often want something, and in a way Persephone is no different. The disparity though, is that he can't give her what she wants.]

I must remind you of somebody. Or perhaps you want me to.

[restingstitchface]

[At first, Crane was mildly disappointed by Lucifer's change in decor, but it only lasted a second. He was surrounded by taste. All the trappings he'd been financing with his lecturer's salary in plain sight as he crossed by, and took a seat at the bar, arranging himself with a practised calmness.

A book is out his satchel before anybody can grab a word. Hesse's Steppenwolf. Because he is never going to be outdone in pretentiousness. Never.]

[sunlighter]

[On occasion Lucifer will visit the bar and it's patrons when his interest in piqued, but for now he remains in his seat by the fire, while Miles Davis' All Blues plays while the piano is unused. Jonathan's book was perhaps too telegraphing, and although he didn't profess the need for attention like other patrons, how he displayed himself said differently.

'No one came near to him. There was no link left, and no one could have had any part in his life even had anyone wished it.' Lucifer thinks that perhaps Jonathan has not yet reached the end of the Magic Theatre.]

A shame. [He calls out softly.] I don't think Harry would have cared for Miles very much.