Azrael (lasttodie) wrote in onewaythreads, @ 2018-01-26 05:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | azrael, gabriel |
Who: Gabriel and Azrael
When: Friday evening
Where: Limbo - Azrael's biker bar in Ravenmoore.
What: Talking
Warnings: TBD
The bar was fairly quiet for a Friday evening. Maybe it was just because it was January, or maybe it was something else entirely. It wasn't as if Limbo seemed to offer the best customer service, nor did it have the best range of drinks on offer. The place wasn't the cleanest or the nicest, but considering Azrael's target clientele, most of those things didn't matter. It was a biker bar after all, and it needed a few kinds of drink and plenty of it. That and good parking for motorbikes. And Azrael had both.
The bar had a rustic, yet other worldly feel to it. It was simple, comprised mostly of bare looking wood, corrugated iron sheets, and odd coloured bricks with no discernible pattern to the order they were placed in. There was nothing flashy about the bar, no fancy lights, no comfy chairs or menus. Just plain wooden furniture, a pool table, and a darts board. It didn't need anything to draw people in or attract new kinds of customers because its true purpose was hidden from mundane, mortal eyes.
It was called Limbo for a reason. The bar was a place where Azrael helped the dead travel to their afterlife. He'd bring them to the bar, pour them a drink if they needed it, and help them through passing into Heaven. It was a place where he could listen to and council the dying as well as pour drinks for the living, should someone stop by.
He employed a couple of the locals to help with the normal side of things. Tonight it was just Azrael and one of his other employees, Colby. The Kid as Azrael seemed fond of calling him, was down in the cellar, cleaning and organising new stock. Azrael stood behind the bar, a rag in one hand and a toothpick in the other. He wore his Heart shard around his neck openly, along with a black t shirt, black open leather jacket and a pair of black jeans and boots. His hair, as usual, was a bit of a mess, tussled at all angles, some of it in his face. No one would have guessed him to be Archangel at first glance and that was the way he liked it. He had grown so used to hiding in plain sight that taking on a more fitting appearance hadn't really occurred to him.
A small smile lifted his lips when he felt a familiar and similar presence. Taking a glass out from behind the bar, as well as a bottle of bright green liquid, he smiled and poured. "Pull up a stool"