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Mephistopheles ([info]feedsmycontempt) wrote in [info]utr_logs,
@ 2010-07-19 22:31:00

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Entry tags:ariel, mephisto

Who: Mephisto and Ariel
What: Drinking, telling stories
Where: Nemo's Rare Books
When: Monday nightish
Warnings: Swearing, BROMANCE SO CANON, grumping at each other.

He had a feeling that he wasn't the only creature that felt like he needed a drink after the bullshit of the day, and he knew just the other creature who'd need one. It wasn't often that Mephistopheles and Ariel agreed about anything, but the one thing that was contested today was their feelings about each other. Mephistopheles ran his fingertips over several bottles at a bar that someone had set up in his castle, before he found himself at Ariel's doorstep. He could feel the devil traps, like thick cobwebs, pull at him when he walked in.

"You know, you're going to need more than those to hold me out. I don't need to use the door," Mephisto announced, before the bottles he'd touched in his castle came to rest on the shop's counter top. In all, there were an even dozen, all different sorts of spirits. From whiskey to wine, vodka, to rum and sake and beyond, all of the finest flavor, and all of the highest proof.

"Women," he said in a dismissive grumble.



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[info]defectedfromgod
2010-07-20 11:41 pm UTC (link)
Ariel was fairly certain that usurping any kind of angelic authority was a very fast ticket to the Ninth Circle, and thus for once, agreed unequivocally. "I would." He'd acquired perspective, but he was still himself.

He took up the book in question, though, turning on a light and opening it to a random page. It seemed to be a ward against the plague, written in an elegant script so fine as to appear printed. Another page yielded a recipe for a tincture of colloidal silver, to guard against joint pain. It appeared a general spellbook, but if it had been written at least in part by an angel, that did change the nature of the thing, obviously.

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