hadriel_logs | August 15th; It's a Spooky Party!

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August 15th; It's a Spooky Party!

Who: Castiel and YOU. ALL OF YOU.
What: It's a party! It was going to be a fun game of Twister party, but now it's a spoopy party. This is a massive mingle, so please feel free to write your own starters! And feel free to jump on the party game headers as well, or include them in your starters too!
Where: The bar!
When: August 15th
Warnings: ALL THE WARNINGS. No, I lie. Alcohol, truth or dare, people falling on each other, scary stories maybe and snogging in a closet. And talking about feelings. Please add your own warnings to your comment thread headers and I will add them to the list!

Whether or not the lights were off, Castiel was determined to go ahead with his plan to cheer up the residents of Hadriel, and get them interacting with each other. He'd made his plans a week in advance, and when it came right down to it, the idea of whether or not he would allow Fear to get in the way of having fun was practically moot. Of course he wouldn't. It was far simpler to be oblivious, far easier to overcome fear - at least his own, if not the god - with amusement, and companionship.

It threw a bit of a monkey wrench into his plans, and was, it had to be said, particularly devastating for his personal party trick in particular. How would his "pull my finger" joke work now? But he was determined to soldier on, and that meant that the bar was taken over by an eager angel, complete with food that had been collected from the orchard, and around the town, a pack of cards, a bag full of pebbles, a bunch of sticks with tiny carvings on them, and as much paint as he had left over from his aborted attempt to redecorate the Winchester apartment.

Not much of a party, but that was what guests were for. And party games. And alcohol, obviously--that was why it was being held at a bar.

So maybe they'd have to bring their own light, and perhaps people might take advantage of the spooky mood and audience to tell some of those stories that Fear wanted people to share, or to play horrid tricks on each other...but so long as things didn't turn into a remake of Cabin in the Woods, Evil Dead, or House on Haunted Hill, they were probably fine. Actually, scratch that, so long as it didn't turn into any horror movie ever, they were probably fine.

But then, with Twister, Truth or Dare and Poker (any of which you can add "strip" in front of and they will be infinitely more fun) as available gaming options, perhaps it was a horror movie already.

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[The grumble under his breath, half-muttered Chinese, hardly sounds charitable, though he does at least look like he's doing his best to get over it.]

Suppose I do look like an easy mark.

[Human languages aren't easily grasped by someone who's had next to no experience with them, so he's got no clue what Simon says. He just knows it don't sound much like English.

He retrieves the buzzer and stows it in his pocket with an easygoing grin.]

Hey, don't worry about it. You'd be lucky to find someone I didn't pull that one on at some point or another.

I suppose there's worse surprises.

[You know, like being teleported onto a new planet along with vicious monsters. Shaking out his tingling hand, he gestures towards the cards.]

Another round, or do you want to find some more players?

[He gathers all the cards up in a coordinated sweep, evening out the deck with a crisp tap along the table's edge.]

I'm game for another go at it if you are. Wouldn't blame ya if you're not - I'm told I've got a killer poker face.

[Would ya just look at that grin.]

[Well. How can he not at least smile at that? At least Sans enjoys being what he is. That's more than most can say.]

As long as we're playing for small stakes, I'll manage, I think. I did alright back home. Besides, nothing like a challenge to keep you sharp, right?

[He shuffles the deck a few times and deals five cards to each of them.]

Sharp? Nah, round is the way to be.

[He indicates his apparent girth with a sweeping, open-handed gesture. Don't ask how a skeleton can be as round as he is. He just is.]

We can't all be so smooth.

[It's not a good joke, but it is his half-hearted attempt at playing along. Sans is pretty round, for a skeleton. Padding in the clothing, maybe? Simon's just...gonna not ask, as he isn't in the clinic. Maybe if there ever comes a need for him to treat Sans. For now, he'll take the cards he's dealt and spread them, considering.]

So. What'll our stakes be? Currency doesn't seem to be so much of an issue, here.

Yeah, you kinda need an economy for currency to work.

[He drums phalanges thoughtfully on the tabletop for a minute.]

Only thing've value I got on me is these, and I have it on good authority that not everyone can appreciate the taste and texture like I can.

[He extricates a handful of ketchup packets from his jacket pocket, which he waggles invitingly as if they might be poker chips or some equally valuable equivalent.]

[Simon eyeballs the packets. There's tomatoes on them, so probably some form of sauce. The food here has left a lot to be desired, and, well, it's not like there's much here to work with. The skeleton's right. So he digs in his own pocket, looking for something even vaguely marketable, and comes up with a slightly stale Fruity Oaty Bar. Which he then offers for the pot. Can Sans even eat?]

I'll see you your ketchup and raise you half a Fruity Oaty Bar.

Fruity Oaty, huh? Got any magic in it?

[He doubts it, but it's always worth asking for. Maybe he could barter it off for something he actually can eat. He deposits his seven-odd ketchup packs in a disordered spill across the tabletop. Good enough for an ante in his book.]

Not that I'm aware of. Magic isn't really a thing where I'm from. It's a little more based in...science.

[At least he course-corrects at the last minute and says 'science' instead of 'reality.' Dropping the Fruity Oaty Bar in the center of the table, he organizes his hand.]

So is everyone a monster, where you're from? Or a skeleton, I suppose. I have to admit, I'm curious about where everyone came from.

Hey, that's not to say science and magic can't mix.

[Well, hell. He'll take it. Probably can swap it out for something else if he wins.

If he loses, hey, Simon gets some free magic ketchup. Literally magic. Dissolves right on contact and gives you some free energy without havin' to go through all the trouble of digesting it. Handy, huh?]

Everyone's a monster, yeah. All of us live Underground. My brother'n me, though, we're the only skeletons.

[Aaand nothing good. He keeps his nine and ten and discards the rest.]

[He is still staunchly on the side of 'magic-is-science-we-don't-understand' for this one, unfortunately. Or maybe fortunately, who can tell just yet? The exile is still young. Shuffling his cards around, Simon inspects his options. an ace, two twos, a seven and a Jack. Well, at least he's got a pair. Keeping the pair and the ace, he drops the other two and hopes for the best. At least it's just a bar he's losing.]

Must not have been too much of an adjustment, going from one Underground to another. Your brother--is he here as well?

[Family's important to Simon, whether it's made of flesh or bone.]

[You're talking to a poker-playing skeleton, Simon, get some perspective.]

Nah.

[A low, easy drawl, unconcerned and unworried. As if he hadn't watched his brother's body go to dust at the hands of a human who now wanders Hadriel unimpeded. As if he doesn't wake up with a seeded ache in the marrow of his bones. As if he doesn't marinate in his own guilt day after day, sometimes unable to do so much as get out of bed, thinking about how much and how badly and in how many different ways he failed him, and stood by and watched his death happen for the umpteenth time and didn't do a damn thing to stop it.

As easy as pretending, and that's a thing he's done all his life.]

You'd know if he was. He's like me, but the opposite.

[He draws three. Pair of tens and not much else to his name. Ain't that just the way?]

[He's trying. God, he's trying. At least this is something he can relate to, family. If he knew what Sans was thinking, he'd relate even more. He'd failed River, once, twice, a thousand times. He should have been faster. He should have figured it out sooner. He should never have let her go to that school, even if at first she'd been the one who wanted to go.]

I know how that can be. I have a sister. She's...well. She's hard to describe. But she's mine, and I'm lucky for it.

[The warmth shows. He can't ever hide that. Drawing, he stares at a hand that has literally nothing but the pair of twos. Damn. Still, he gestures to the pot.]

Ante up, or are you holding?

So she's here, is she?

[It's impossible to miss that trace of familial love. It makes him ache for the same, but - hah, that got snatched away from him, didn't it? His brother, a pillar of dust spilling into the snow. Gray indistinguishable for white.

Yeah. He really is lucky for it.]

Let's keep the pot, yeah. Not like I got anything else to bet with.

[He draws five, following - heh, following suit.]

She is. I'm not sure what I'd do if she wasn't, to be honest.

[Probably worry and stress himself into an early grave. And then back out of it, if what people say about Hope is true.]

Alright, then. I suppose, it's cards out.

[He lays his hand on the table, looking disappointed. Literally just the pair of twos. It's sad.]

Pretty sure you're taking this one, no matter what's in your hand.

Heh.

[I feel that, he almost says, and reveals his pair of tens with a shrug and an easy grin. No one needs to know that. How much he desperately misses his brother. How much he doesn't wanna go another day without him but knows, easy enough, that he's done the very same and inevitably existed onward without him.]

Looks like, yeah. Maybe we should pay better a-ten-tion, yeah?

[He might not be saying it, but even without Sans' expression, there's a feeling about him that pings even Simon's radar. Maybe because he recognizes it, himself, from those months of searching for River. The hopelessness and fear of it all. But he smiles nonetheless, and even if it's not incredibly bright, it's not forced, either.]

Suppose you're right. Maybe next Twos-day will be better for my luck.

[He's trying, okay?]

[Hey, trying is about all one can ask for. And Sans, he's got a soft spot for bad jokes, even ones that struggle a bit from the get-go. He laughs.]

We'll make a Joker of you yet.

[And that would be an actual laugh from Simon, too, even if it is a quiet one.]

We'll see, I guess. Thanks for the game. I think I'm gonna bow out, but maybe we can play again sometime. Get a group together.

[That wouldn't be completely awful.]

Hey, why not? Bring your sis, we'll make a day of it.

[He sweeps the cards up together into one stack and straightens the deck with a neat tap against the tabletop.]

[Simon looks surprised for a moment, then thoughtful, then rueful.]

I'm not sure that would end well for either of us. But it sounds...nice.

[You know, as far as things to do in a murder cave, go--and actually as far as things to do in regular places, too.]

We gotta make our own fun here. Case in point.

[He gestures at the cards as he lays the deck on the table, snapping a rubber band around it before scraping back his chair and standing as he pops the doctor a wink.]

If you don't, you'll lose your mind.

[Thank you Sans, I'm sure that was most reassuring.]

[Well. It's honest, and personally Simon finds that more reassuring. He even manages a smile, yet again.]

Not that I'd wish for others to be trapped here, too, but maybe we'll get lucky and a psychiatric professional will fall through. Freud would have a field day here with the gods alone.

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skelebro - 2016-09-28 02:13 (UTC) - Expand

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