To Flow From

Sariel was the third floor, in a booth, drinking alone. He was quite a bit into a bottle of port.

"Cheers," he said the next person saw, giving them a sharp, brittle smile.

Anael was waiting up on the roof, crouching and wrapped in his wings. He was not sure how long he had been there, because he could not bring himself to care. He waited with the hope that the Mother would give Nicholas his message, and that Nicholas would come.

"You look like you could use a drink," Nick announced, sitting himself next to Sariel, then studying him, "Or six, actually."

Summer was not Sariel's favorite time. Thankfully, it was cool and cloudy today. That didn't mean he wasn't sulkily contemplating the hordes of tourists and other idiots that were likely to swarming his favorite spots in town.

Except here, the people here were at least his kind, idiots or no. Look, if he didn't have contradictions he probably wouldn't have fallen. He stood out on the club's steps up to the main door, smoking a cigarette, and watching who was coming in. Maybe there would be some company worth having.

Nicholas was working at the club, on the second floor. The goal was so he wouldn't fall asleep while he was typing up his order lists on his laptop at the table in the corner, surrounded by catalogs.

That goal was obviously a failure as he snapped awake, head popping up as he babbled in a mix of German and Hungarian, looking around wild eyed.

Akeem often saw people smoke inside Emanare, but it was a question of respect, for him. There were perfectly lovely balconies on which to smoke and he always made a point to do just that. He slid his book back into his shoulder bag and took his glass with him onto the balcony.

Smoking was a nasty habit, but he had no intention of quitting. He exhaled the smoke up at the cloudy night.

Nick cracked his fingers and settled at the bar with a smug look. He looked at the person next to him, "Good day?"

Alex was, actually, hide as a kite.

He sat down on a couch with Daniel and offered over the joint silently.

All in all, Anael was thankful that Christmas was over. Everywhere he walked, he had to pass much fewer chubby little angels in white robes.

Inside Emanare, though, it hardly mattered. The club had hardly seemed touched with the Christmas spirit, undoubtedly due to the mix of creatures it welcomed. The angel hadn't come here in a couple of weeks, though, and he found that he missed it. So he flew down to the rooftop of the building, brushing frost out of his hair as he went down into the club, slightly giddy from the bustling potential of the place after the serenity of Heaven.

He'd blame the giddiness for forgetting to hide his wings and forgetting that he hadn't. Which led to the giddy bump of a very strong wing into someone as of yet hidden behind the white feathers, and an apology was already on Anael's lips, one that sounded incredibly heartfelt as he drew his wing back to reveal who he might have hurt.

Nicholas was working at the club, on the second floor. The goal was so he wouldn't fall asleep while he was typing up his order lists on his laptop at the table in the corner, surrounded by catalogs.

That goal was obviously a failure as he snapped awake, head popping up as he babbled in a mix of German and Hungarian, looking around wild eyed.

Alex stomped into Emanare in heavy, snow covered boots, hair full of fluries and a cross look on his face. "All right. Who's playing with the weather then? Because it certainly wasn't me."

He continued to bitch before throwing himself down into a chair at James table. "It's cold."

A deal was a deal, even when you were a fairy. Even where you were Robin, oft called Goodfellow.

So he showed up on Midwinter night, waiting for a shapeshifting sister to arrive and fulfill her end of the bargain. There was a trip to be made, there were places to show her. He was sprawled on a rock by the baths, chewing on a straw he'd brought over from his land. It tasted like cinnamon, and it made him smile.

Charlie was seated on a stool at the bar on the middle level, frowning into his glass of scotch.

"Christmas is weird," he grumbled into his glass, before downing its contents and holding it out for a refill.

Muriel had spent the morning helping a young woman get in touch with her anger. It had been a painful process but it would be better for her in the long run. Now Muriel was upstairs at Emanare, wings flared, hair disheveled and with slight flush on her pale cheeks.

"Water, please," she said as she approached the bar.

What Anael liked best about Emanare, he mused as he leaned back against the wall, half tempted to let his wings out for their comforting presence, was the wild mix of creatures. People (or non-people) that would never have come together outside of the club, and it created many unexpected connections. Love took many shapes, and did not stop at anything. It made him feel warmer to hang out in the club.

He was sitting on the second level and watching the other patrons, an untouched glass of wine on the table. It wasn't as creepy as it might sound, honest.

Danior was in the club, leaning back on one of the couches, head tilted back over the top edge. He had his drink in a black glass, a bloody Mary. Quite literally. He wasn't that keen on it, truth be told, the blood here didn't have the edge of fear to it unlike some of his usual fare, but nevermind. It sufficed for now.

Head tipped back, and his eyes closed, until he caught the stirring of air, and faint scent in the air that meant someone was passing by. He opened his eyes slowly.

"Hello," he virtually purred. "I'm bored, entertain me," he added to the person currently appearing in his vision as upside down.

Anael was staring at the water.

He was crouched on a rock on the edge of the baths, wearing nothing but jeans, wings visible in his back. They were sheltering him from the outside world, drawn up slightly and curved on either side of his body. His outstretched hand almost touched the hot water, creating tiny waves by sending warm tendrils of wind on the surface.

He was deep in thought, in his own world. Clearly someone had to come and disturb him.

Hadrian, occasionally, drank tea. A side effect of living in Britain for too long- he'd developed a taste for it. So Sunday evening found him at Emanare with a cup of tea, settled across from a chess board, playing himself.

Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, Robin thought as he strolled into the lower level of Emanare.

A bored Robin was never a good thing. He didn't even feel like curdling anybody's drinks. Maybe taking a dip in the baths would somehow help? He might meet someone interesting. Or he might trick someone interesting. Life was unpredictable in its better moments.

He abandoned his clothes on a nearby rock and slid into the water... in the shape of an otter. He liked this shape in water, the agility of the small, sleek body, and he swam around for quite some time, working tension out of his muscles.

He spotted legs a short way away and swam around and between them, wet fur sliding against skin, hoping to take whoever they belonged to by surprise... With a bit of luck, there would be some shrieking and splashing. All in good fun!