Saint Michael the Archangel | Dt. Michael Angel (the_sacred_fire) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2012-01-19 08:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | lucifer, michael |
Who: Lucifer and Michael
What: Let's go drinking (Originally posted by Lucifer)
Where: Classy upscale bar
When: Thursday evening
Warnings: Lucifer, mentions of violence, the not so subtle attempt at getting angels drunk, probably language, TBD
The chance of getting Michael drunk wasn't one Lucifer was going to pass up. His brother had claimed he couldn't get drunk, and Lucifer had a mind to prove him wrong. Because it's what he did. Lucifer knew well enough even he could get drunk (if he stopped cheating) so all he had to do was to get Michael to stop cheating in his own way. There were plans for that. He'd appeared a block away from Michael's place (because he didn't feel like starting the night off with lectures on privacy) and walked cheerily up to his door, knowing his brother would have long sensed him.
So when Michael appeared he just smiled and dragged his brother out and into one of his favorite bars. It was high end, of course, and teeming with humans riming with Sin and Vice. Maybe not the best place to take an Arch Angel but at least there weren't any rituals here that he just knew Michael would interrupt and make things rather boring. He waved away the onlookers (some mortal, some not so mortal) and led his brother to a booth and sat down in front of him. "Rules, brother dear?" He grinned because he excelled at breaking those but if he didn't establish some he'd end up with a sojourn Below and that would ruin his good mood.
He folded his hands on the table, "no soul shopping for me, no sword in the face for you." That, seemed like the most important thing, but then again he was the King of Loopholes. "We'll drink like mortals so no fancy burning it off as you drink it and don't think I don't know that trick." He smiled, "no discussing relationships, or cat talk, or talk of how the Saints are all so wonderful. In turn I won't discuss demons, or Satan, or anything like that. We'll have absolutely nothing to talk about, but I'm rather fine with that." He took two glasses of wine from a tray and set one in front of his brother. "We'll start with wine. For irony's sake."
Michael listened to Lucifer's rules and he smirked as his brother laid them all out. "Agreed," he said, deciding that he might as well experience drinking as a mortal, even if only to better understand Saint Patrick.
"You don't kill anyone, and I won't have to send you below. And I will drink as a mortal, if that is something you want." When his brother mentioned drinking wine, Michael even chuckled.
"And here I was thinking you were going to order me something with a terribly sexual name just to see the look on my face."
"No killing, I promise." He could always just flat out buy souls but he wasn't pointing that out. He chuckled as he sipped from the wine. "Precious there's many a thing I want from you. Just try this."
"See, you anticipated that. I do try and do things outside my box. Besides, we'll get to the oddly named shots later, when you've got some alcohol in you. I suspect you'll be funnier then." He was rather looking forward to that. Blackmail could always come in handy later on.
Michael took a sip of the wine and he nodded his appreciation for the taste. He was more an appreciator of white wine, as he associated red with the transubstantiation, but he enjoyed it all really. Though in the past, he had never felt the effects of it.
Quietly he was trying to calculate how much of the wine it would take before Michael got well and truly drunk. Or at least tipsy. He was only looking forward to that a little bit.
With the rules in place he had no direct line of conversation, but he didn't mind. Being here without intent to antagonize was pretty alright. He switched between watching people and making not the slightest effort at concealing how he was checking them out.
Having generally burned the effects of alcohol away without a thought, it was likely it wouldn't take much to start affecting him.
Michael sipped the alcohol and he watched Lucifer indulging in lust. Then, for some reason unknown to him, Michael asked, "what is it like?" He cleared his throat, took another drink, and then clarified. "What is it like to look around a room and know you could indulge in sin with any of them and not feel regret?"
He blinked and tilted his head. Then he shrugged, "what's it like to look around the room, know you could but shouldn't and therefor won't, and still feel regret? Or not feel it at all?" He grinned to a pretty girl before looking to his brother, "I can't answer that. Well I can but you won't get it. Mainly because you still care. You're not a part of them, but you love them and all that lovely bullshit that was part of that command. I don't. I simply do not feel."
Which was only something Satan really knew. Lucifer was just an incredibly good mimic. "I can indulge in the sins, Pride's my favorite, but feel them? Not so much."
"I don't regret it, I simply don't feel it." When Lucifer explained he felt the same, Michael felt a moment of incredibly love for his brother. They may have been on opposite sides of the war that would come, but they were so alike in some things. Michael played at emotions, but he hardly ever felt them. And even when he did, he didn't understand them. He knew something pulled him to Pestilence but he couldn't define it. He felt for his saints, but he couldn't tell you what it was. Most of the time, he was a blank slate, only doing what he must.
It was tiring.
"I don't know if love is the right word," Michael said with a sigh. "I...don't feel connected to them at all. I only know it's wrong to hurt them. But you assume I feel more than I do."
He shrugged, "otherwise you'd have come to our side Michael." He sighed, "out of all of us the two most alike them is the Voice, and Satan. He'll kill me when he knows I've told but he feels a lot more then any of the others. We're copies. Or were in my case. Made in an image that wasn't even God's. Mindless automatons only meant to serve. And unlike you, that not understanding and not feeling and the not everything made me rebel against the one thing that could."
He motioned to the crowd, "in essence it's why I don't like them. They got everything we didn't and then we're told to play nice and obey them and all that nonsense." He downed his glass and called for another, "so I indulge without regret because I don't really feel it. Neither would you if you did it. You only don't because something tells you it's wrong."
Michael had to admit that Lucifer was making sense. He was probably absolutely right. It didn't mean he was going to fall, of course he wasn't. But he couldn't argue the logic of it.
He called for another as well, his first glass having been finished off. "Sometimes I think they are like ants. Running restlessly around, completing their rituals because they think they should. Then I worry I am becoming like you."
The alcohol was certainly making him open up. It was likely Lucifer needn't worry about Michael telling Satan what Lucifer had told him, considering what Michael was also saying.
He chuckled, "no precious. You only become me when you decide to tell dear old dad to fuck right off. There's a difference in making the choice. Free will's a bother because I can't even tell if I was supposed to do all this for the Bigger Plan, or I was actually able to decide on my own."
He frowned, "and that always gives me a headache." He motioned to a waitress and ordered some shots. He'd long learned to temper his own drinking without hellfire to burn it off. Michael hadn't learned that, "also don't be cruel to ants dear. At least they have a hive mind. Mortals don't even know what they're doing half the time."
Michael considered that and then he nodded, taking another deep drink of the wine. "I guess that's right. Ants don't turn on each other. I don't think. I should watch more Discovery Channel..."
He scoffed, "Christ please don't. It's terrible." He took the shots and set them on the table. "And ants do kill each other. I've seen ant versus ant fights. Amusing when you're bored enough."
He patted the server on the ass and grinned to his brother. "Alright dearest. I'm being incredibly good and leaving the appropriately named shots for later. We'll start with something called Irish car bombs because these mortals are hilarious. You can drink to your saint if you so like and drink fast before it curls. Leave those alone," he motioned to the shots. "Those are for later." Grinning he took the shot as it came and downed it.
"Oh," Michael said, slightly lamely. He took one of the shots and sniffed it.
"Irish car bombs. My goodness." Quickly, Michael downed it and then he made a face. "Euuggghhhoooh. That's okay! Well, here's to Saint Patrick!" he said, raisng his hand in the air.
He shook his head, "my poor brother I have much to teach you still. Mainly you toast then you drink." He motioned to Michael, "give me your hand and I'm still being incredibly good by the way. Now just a regular shot. I just need your hand. All part of the process."
Smiling he waited and when he had Michael's hand he took a bit of alt and put it on it. Then he took a shot and licked the salt of his brother's hand. "Less fun then when you do it on other body parts. Funny that."
Michael looked at Lucifer with his eyebrows raised. "Do I need to lick your hand?"
Chuckling he put the salt on his hand, "yes. Integral part of the shot." He wasn't too sure if his brother would buy that, but considering he had probably never done this before his chances were good. "It's important you get this right brother."
Michael stared at Lucifer as he thought of the things that Pestilence had taught him about what hands could do. He never felt that particular urge, even after Pestilence had shown him technique, but he had no way of knowing if Lucifer did or not.
"But I don't know what you have used that hand for!" Michael protested. He wouldn't put it past Lucifer to masturbate and then make Michael lick his hand.
He blinked, then laughed and licked the salt off his hand, "neither did I, but I trusted you. You wound me. And in the interest of sharing, I haven't used that hand for anything. In the last," he tilted his head, "few hours at least. Also I do have people for that. I use my charms for good."
Shaking his head he took Michael's hand again and put the salt on Michael's hand this time. "Here. Better? Now drink and lick the salt dearest. And you have been learning. A shame."
"I should think my hands are more trustworthy in that respect than yours," Michael just shook his head in amusement and then he took the shot before licking the salt off his hand.
And then he made a face and breathed out hard. "AUGH!" he whined, squeezing his eyes shut. "Whoo! Bleh! What was that?!"
He was still laughing, arranging the other shots on the table. He slid some to his brother, the others to him. "And yet he isn't asking if I'm tampering with the shots. Priorities."
He smirked at the question, "that was our good friend tequila. He's very fond of us, even if he kicks like a mule." Smiling he offered a shot to Michael, "a fuzzy navel for you, because I'm still nice. I wonder if they'll make a shot called a dirty angel or something for you."
Michael gave Lucifer a wary look but he decided Lucifer probably wasn't tampering with the shots in front of him. "Fuzzy navel? It sounds unclean!"
He raised an eyebrow, "yes because the name of a drink worries you. Honestly Mikey your priorities need work." He smirked, "I could make you drink something called sex on my face now have it."
Michael stared at Lucifer and then he shrugged and took a sip of the fuzzy navel. It was incredibly sweet, which meant it was automatically Michael's new favourite thing. "It's good! Is there more?"
He smiled, "Always brother." Michael and his thing for sweets. Deciding to leave the oddly named shots out of it for now he just ordered more of the same shot and enough daiquiri to keep them happy.
Michael drank and drank, having never needed to moderate himself before. And of course, he got more and more drunk and he had no idea why he felt so funny.
"My head is dancing," he eventually informed his brother. "To showtunes I think. Is your head dancing?"
All in all, this was really pretty fantastic. He was getting to chance to see his brother getting drunk, while he knew how to moderate himself. At least a little.
"To jazz, I think. Not showtunes." He smirked, and shook his head, ordering them something to eat before his brother passed out on him. Not that that didn't have some appeal in it's own.
"Jazz is nice," Michael declared, watching Lucifer carefully as he ordered the food. "Are you getting something fried? I like something fried."
He chuckled, "careful brother. I can take that many a different way." He winked to Michael before nodding to a waitress "but I'll get you something fried. It'll even be something nice and not a someone."
"No friend people," Michael chastised his brother, shaking a finger at him. "Potatoes or chickens. Have you ever friend a Mars bar?!"
"This is America. Of course I have." Subtly he pushed more drinks in his brother's direction. He was starting to feel the drinks himself, hence the food. "I'm getting you a fried twinkie, don't ever say I'm not the best little brother you have."
Michael perked up at the idea of a fried Twinkie. It sounded amazing. "Lucifer, I don't say it a lot but I love you," he said, slurring slightly. He had just admitted to not being able to feel, however, so the impact of his drunken words would be tempered by that.
"Of course you do. Everyone loves me. They just express it oddly. You put a sword through my face." Smirking he leaned back as the waiter returned, giving his brother the plate of fried twinkie. Even he had limits so he refused that one. He jsut settled onto the fried food