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Kingdom of Hell, Spring Court, Summer Court, Angel Investigations,Grand Coven
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The Knights of Hell bring their A party.
9/15/2016, Compressed Time
Summer Court Garden
The young Fae princeling has been rather busy since he woke up. He was planning to take a break form the fae world for a while unless he was summoned. The balance between his fae and human sides had nearly tipped and was still very delicate. So to celebrate he'd been availing himself of the thing he'd miss most about such parties. The Hot fae me.... Rather the prospect of entertaining others. After all he needed a lot of bed rest after his ordeal. And indeed he'd spent most of the party in beds. Leif had finally joined in on the party proper and was waving to everyone he knew almost all of them though precious few of them knew him.
The ball continues as more guests come and go. At last, the two Knights of Hell arrive on the scene: Abaddon's looking flawlessly-coiffed as always, in a sleek solid black number that looks almost like a sort of tunic, but with a neckline so plunging that it practically doesn't exist. This is paired with stark white leggings and these kind of amazing thigh boots, with floral patterns -- all in various shades of dark grey and black, with the occasional bright accent of white -- around where straps would be, over the arch of the foot and around the heel.
Lance is less subtle and understated about his attire. He looks like a possibly evil, but sexy, peacock of darkness. His chest and most of his torso is fully exposed, with the sleeves arching up along shoulders and plastered along the sides of his chest, as if painted on. The cuffs of the sleeves run along his wrists and even to the back of his hands, again with a painted sort of effect. It all looks like feathers, but with wisps of smoke or tendrils or something similar, as delicate accents. The collar flares like feathers, looking soft but not exactly tempting to pet; at the waist, the garment -- such as it is -- bursts into something like the tail of a coat, but iridescent like peacock feathers, though not exactly in the same color scheme: most of the color showing in his ensemble is red. Below the waist, it's kind of a mystery where one garment starts and the other ends. There's some tights and boots, but they're so dark and elaborate in design that they're difficult to distinguish, even with part of the boots' cuffs touched with gold decoration. The one piece of clothing that is easy enough to distinguish is, of course, the almost obligatory codpiece. It's a Fae event, of course there's going to be one! Lance's has what looks like a stylized, and very floral, depiction of what can only be assumed to be his more demonic form as Demogorgon.
His right shoulder, though it's at least in part covered by his costume, is visibly pinker than the rest of his skin, and looks tender.
"I haven't been to one of these in..." Lance opens his mouth and then frowns a little bit as he looks around. "Can't remember the last time."
"Time flies. Especially in the human world." Abaddon adds, placing a hand on her hip and then pointing with the other towards the wine and food table. "Let's get some refreshment. So, you were telling me about your grand master plan?" Her lips curl into a faint smirk.
Lance chuckles as he walks along with his fellow rider. "Such as it is."
Over by the wine table, Faith is sipping at the sparkling wine, paying little attention, right now, to the various people entering. She's wearing a deep green gown that looks good on her - but is far more traditionally feminine than any of her normal attire.
Stiles has appeared now and then at the party, having officially lost track of time at this point. At least he knows he'll be returned home before midnight on the day he left, home in time for Scott's birthday! That's something, anyway. Returning to the party, he's back in the red tunic and white leggings--which, frankly, most resemble tights--with boots and a general attempt at looking fancy. Mostly, he manages to look like the most expensively dressed extra in the history of Shakespearean theater. The fact that his hair, spiky and low-maintenance as usual, hasn't been changed to fit only makes him look even slightly more awkward. He was last seen leaving the party with Derek... again... but he's back alone this time. Maybe the Sourwolf is sleeping off some of that fairy wine? Who knows. Either way, as Stiles arrives and notices Lance, he does a visible double-take. Approaching with eyebrows raised high and lips set in a half-smirk, he says, "Damn. You don't do anything halfway, do you?"
Lance and Abaddon find the table and Faith too. Abaddon takes red wine and Lance lifts a glass of the sparkling, fizzy one, lifting his glass in Faith's direction. "Green's close enough to blue to suit you," he calls out, before sipping at the crystalline flute and licking his lips, turning back to his redheaded companion. "So I'm thinking, I can--"
The Knight of Hell pauses, trailing off, as he notices Stiles. He starts grinning and raises a hand -- noticeably the left, rather than the right he's sedately holding his champagne with -- to wave him over. Once he's close enough for them to communicate effectively, he shakes his head. "It started with me not wanting to wear anything too complicated over my shoulder after putting my arm back on," he comments, as if it were just a casual occurrence and completely something that just happens in battle sometimes. "It kind of...snowballed?"
Abaddon chuckle-snorts, rolling her eyes, shaking her head and taking a sip of her wine.
This helps to prompt Lance, in a way, to gesture to her with his head. "Have you met Abaddon? The Destroyer? She's a Knight of Hell too." It's right then that Leif's waving catches his eye, but he doesn't really *know* him. Still, he waves in the scion's direction. Might as well be friendly.
Leif bows a little to faith, to say that they'd crossed paths during the party is a little bit of an understatement and and overstatement. they had often similar goal and intentions of entertaining, and often the same targets. He looks around to see whom else he knows then walks up to the knights of hell and stiles. While Stiles might not know him Leif had spent a lot of time around the beacon hills notables even if he was invisible.
He nods his head though not quite a bow to the two hell knights, "Having a good time? Summer parties are always a bit passionate to me, too many random speeches. And he's talking as if he knew them all. Then again they've both been around a little while its entirely possibly they had met at another party, or Leif had forgotten that people he'd been watching didn't know him.
Faith Lehane idly waves to the others, detaching from the table to wander over to them. Don't say too much about knights of Hell in front of a Slayer, of course...but then, this is the neutralest of neutral ground and they've all had more important concerns lately.
Stiles looks a little uneasy as he reaches to offer his hand to Abaddon, saying cautiously, "Uh, well, it's good to meet a friend of Lance's." He shoots Lance a slightly pointed look, though, and the slight wildness in his eye makes it clear just how he feels about being introduced to a powerful demon known as "the Destroyer," especially with as much infamy behind the name as Abaddon has. Even if all the stories are wrong, which wouldn't surprise Stiles too much, it's still pretty scary. He does catch sight of Faith, though, and offers her a nervous smile and furtive nod. When Leif appears, though, he offers a grin--if, admittedly, a forced grin. "Oh, uh, hey! Yeah, great party. It's got that comfy 'Shire' feeling but still fancy, but it's not as intimidating as, y'know, an Elvish tea party or anything." Some part of his mind shouts Shut up Stiles, you're babbling, but he can't quite manage to stop.
Abaddon seems amused enough when she takes Stiles by the hand and gives a little squeeze of acknowledgement, before Faith and Leif arrive. "Any friend of Demogorgon's..." she offers, in reply.
By the time they're joined, it's Lance that takes the fore, though not before Stiles has had a chance to chatter adorkably. Lance sidles up next to Stiles and surreptitiously, at least in that he conceals it from everyone in front of them, gooses him. "It's a great party," he answers Leif. "I like a little passion...it's in my nature. Have we met? Sorry...memory's not so great at the moment. Fuzzy aftereffects of healing."
Leif gives a little elegant bow, " I'm sorry. I'm Leif Alfson, A Minor Prince of the Court of Spring. I was my courts eyes in beacon hills before this, and I know many of you even if you don't know me. And I believe we have met at such parties before however delicious teas and other recreational substances do dull the mind of certain past parties. " Leif is spring he prefers his own courts parties a lot more energy dancing and such. He grins at The action between Stiles and Lance. He was pretty at ease even though there were rumors of the young Scion who had bound the gate until it could be closed, he didn't really seem to pay them much attention unless it helped his flirting along. "This is definitely the most diverse party I have been to though. Humans fae demons werewolves even an angel or two. Probably others. Its been fun."
Lance's playful maneuver does, at least, get Stiles to stop babbling. On a slightly more embarrassing note, it also makes him yip slightly, a strangled half-squeak deep in his throat. He manages, somehow, to play it off as a cough--mostly, at least--but gives Lance some furious side-eye while turning to greet Faith and Leif more specifically, nodding and offering his hand if they seem to go for it. To Faith, he says, "Hey, good to see you again. Still out saving 'mansels in distress' and, uh... all that?" Leif's claims about being a watcher of Beacon Hills make his brow furrow, but for the moment Stiles manages to hold back the torrent of questions that leap to mind.
"Pleasure to meet you, Leif. I take it you know us?" Lance motions to Abaddon with his head, lifting his glass to sip of the champagne as he gives the scion a chance to answer. He's also being subtle -- not because he feels he has to, but because it's the polite thing to do. Don't want to put allies in awkward situations. "Ahh, yeah? It's been...a really long time. We should do this more often. I don't get to experience this kinda shindig every day." And with that, he offers a smile to Stiles, resting his hand at the small of his back.
"The fae certainly know how to throw them," Faith muses, sipping at her drink, and staying slightly away from them. "And still out saving whoever needs to be saved."
Faith Lehane adds, "But I need a breather." She's been doing a lot of mingling and even the dark slayer has her extrovert limit. She offers a smile and ducks out.
Lance has found Stiles and has a hand resting on his back. Lance, himself, is dressed in a grand, chest-showing ensemble that resembles a possibly evil but very sexy peacock, with a dramatic tail-like accent that bears a certain iridescence. The motif is red. Next to him stands Abaddon, dressed mostly in black with her white leggings the only real contrast other than the subtle flowers along her bootstraps. The neckline of her tunic is so deep that it seems almost magical in the way it stays together at all.
Faith has just headed off into the crowd, but the Fae scion Leif is still close by and chatting casually with the assembled group.
Stiles is standing beside Lance, chatting with the Knight of Hell--not to mention Abaddon, yet another Knight of Hell--and Leif, who's apparently some kind of Spring Court princeling. Dressed (not especially comfortably) in a red tunic, white tights, and leather boots, he looks like a very well-dressed extra from a Shakespearean play, which... really doesn't suit him at all. Still, he's grinning and bearing it for the sake of good manners, all while silently looking forward to being able to wear jeans again. But, on the other hand, the food's really, really good! He's just reaching for a plate at the buffet, putting a slice of some kind of pizza on it. "Who knew the fae liked pizza so much?" he notes, glancing up at the others.
Leif does indeed know both the knights of hell by reputation at least. And normally he'd be a bit more awed, but not so recently he had the power of all of the great queens and kings of the Fae flowing through him. And as such he's slightly less afraid for the moment. His own attire was just a slightly more formal version of his usual dress. He really didn't feel the need to impress right now.
Scott McCall has been doing everything in his power to make sure that he's not been noticed during this entire party. He's not the type of person that wants to revel in being a hero or even saving the world. He much prefers just doing the right thing because it's the right thing to do. Thus, he manages to stay out of the way as much as possible. He hasn't eaten anything or taken a sip of anything here either. Instead he's just been holding the fort by trying his best to be the one that doesn't get noticed. Time travel to being let back to Earth post-haste would be pretty awesome right about now. Whatever he is supposed to be wearing from the Fae is being held in his hands. His own clothes were more comfortable but he's not rude. He'll put on this... is this even a shirt? tunic? whatever ... if he has to. Maybe the world will end before he has to, though.
"It's kind of a flatbread vehicle delivery system for the stuff on it," Lance comments, finishing his champagne and setting the empty glass back down on the beverage table. "Pretty common I'm finding for world cuisine. Or...well...cuisine not from your world. Maybe it's supposed to be more accessible?" He's not really that super-knowledgeable about food, though, having not really eaten much of anything until relatively recently in his existence. He glances to Abaddon, who shrugs.
But Abaddon, at least, does seem more conversant on food and drink. "Pretty standard. Some of this is a little fancier than I've seen at most of these fairy events, though. Try that." She points at one of the pizza-ish things, then to a bowl of what looks like some sort of grain salad with vegetables and nuts. "And that. You won't be sorry." She offers a thin smile to Stiles, then back to Lance. "You'd better try it too, since you're eating now," she only slightly teases.
But it's about then that Lance notices Scott and lightly nudges Stiles with his left elbow. "Hey, is that Scott over there? You can't let him be a total wallflower. Do I need to get him crazy drunk? Or...maybe Abaddon...?" He glances to her, grinning slightly wider.
Abaddon just rolls her eyes, still amused, but perfectly content with her glass of red wine.
Stiles' eyes widen as he spots Scott, and he hands Lance his plate of pizza. "Uh. Hold this?" he asks, and then he's rushing over to his best friend's side. Rather than take the panicked, flailing approach (as one might well assume he might), he instead moves to stand next to Scott, folding his arms across his chest, and even pauses to smile and nod at a passing fae courtier, saying, "Hey, how ya doin'? Great party!" Then he tilts his head toward the True Alpha, muttering to Scott, "Dude. What are you doing? You look like a traumatized prom reject whose date left him at the door... and who forgot to put on his clothes."
Speaking of doors... There's no fanfare as Fiona finally graces the party with her presence. It isn't needed. She sweeps dramatically into the room in a gown of her signature color, black. Made of what looks to be thousands of tiny black gemstones, the high collar frames her face before plunging into a scandalous neckline to match the high slit up one side, revealing a good portion of toned, shapely leg. Her blonde hair has been twisted into an up do with tiny flecks of what appears to be black diamonds, and she's had some sort of Faerie Beauty Treatment that's seemingly knocked at least a decade off of her face. Not that she needed it, but a little rejuvination never hurt anybody. Her gown catches the light darkly as she moves, and something about it just screams that it's a sign of favor from the Winter Court. Her eyes sweep the room... and then she's making her way toward Angel, smiling.
Angel notices Fiona head his way, and well aware of who the trio are that helped seal his soul back in May, is actually quite happy to see her. "Fiona. Good to see you." It's a great party, and the new Spring Knight, on top of everything else he is, seems to be enjoying himself as much as he ever does, which generally means a healthy helping of brooding.
Leif raises his brow at Scott and is a little loathe to use his powers right now or he'd probably just magic some more fitting clothes on to the boy. He however is a little nervous about trying to use his magic. He's a little dry right now and his magical muscles are more than a little bruised. He nods his head to Fiona. And is in a far more laid back mood than usual. He isn't awed by Abaddon or Fiona at the moment, though he is very respectful.
Sure, ask the demon who just had his arm reattached to hold the pizza suddenly! But Lance does. He starts with the wrong arm, but ends up using the correct one for that -- the left one, far more able due to not being terribly tender at the moment. Usually it wouldn't be much of an event, but well...Fae healing is a little...different. Plus there's the whole energy thing. Summer Court is lively, and joie de vivre can definitely involve pleasure as well as pain.
Lance is the barechested, possibly evil sexy peacock of doom, and Abaddon looks striking in her chiaroscuro with a plunging neckline that is clearly aiming for the deep end.
Lance sighs and shakes his head a bit. "What I wouldn't give for a little E to put in some champagne. Heroes drive me nuts."
"I'm fine, Stiles. It's good. Everybody needs a little rest right now. A little fun?" Scott seems to be quite focused on making sure that he's not being a spoilsport to anyone that may be within earshot to make sure that everything he says is acceptable. He's not going to stop making it very clear that he's caring about everyone else right now but himself. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine right here. You go. Dance. Drink. Be Merry." Scott shifts the clothes in his hands a bit and watches Stiles head off to do that thing he does! Meanwhile, he will continue to wait patiently.
Stiles has a brief but intense, if blessedly quiet, conversation with Scott, but then he returns to Lance, shaking his head, and says, "Hey, I wanna go find Derek so he doesn't sleep through the whole rest of the party, okay?" Smiling some, he leans in to kiss the demon's cheek. "Catch you for real when we're back home, huh?" Then he heads out of the garden, back to the guest rooms, tracking down the wayward Sourwolf.
"Angel. Always a pleasure." Fiona extends her hand to the Vampire With A Soul, her voice throaty and genuinely warm. She's already been at the Faerie wine, it seems. Among other Faerie things she's been at. Room service here is quite accommodating, after all. "It hasn't gone... fluttering off in the night like a Peter Pan shadow, has it? When I stitch a soul into place, I expect it damn well better stay."
Angel, perhaps inspired by some Spring cheerfulness, replies, "Despite my best efforts at happiness, my soul has stayed put. You've done an admirable job of making sure of that." His smile reaches somewhere around 3/4, and might even get to full, thinking of the results of that.
Lance smiles to Stiles and answers his kiss with a little bit of a hotter one...but he holds back enough since they're at a party, after all, and Scott's kind of being a wet blanket. "You go. See you later. Glad you're okay."
After that, he drifts in the direction of what else is going on, Abaddon sticking to the snacks and drinks. Angel and Fiona. Huh. "Oh, hey! Angelcake. And the Supreme, right?" He looks between the two of them, easing into their space. But not too close.
"Angelcake and the Supreme sounds like a very odd cover band." Fiona muses, raising an eyebrow at Lance. Her gaze flicks back to Angel, and her smile widens slightly. "The funny thing about happiness is it's usually fairly fleeting." She gives one of the servers a come hither glance, and the lithe Fae man brings Fiona a drink, the Supreme's hand lingering just a moment to long against the Fae's. "They certainly know how to throw a party."
Angel can't help but agree, if only slightly. "Happiness is fleeting, yes. That's why we have to treasure every minute while we have it. Particularly when you're experiencing happiness with someone that doesn't live forever." Angel is aware of the sad truth that he's going to have 60, maybe 80 years before time, which doesn't touch him, touches the mortals around him in decidedly unpleasant ways.
"There are ways," Lance comments, as blithely as if it were a comment about the weather moving in and out and far more fleeting in its nature. "It comes and goes. Might as well enjoy it when you've got it to enjoy. Angel! Let me get you a drink. Are you more of a red, more of a white, or more...sparkling?" He pauses, thoughtful as he looks Angel up and down. "...definitely red." Then he moves off back to the drinks, to select a beverage for both himself and the vampire.
"Who wants to live forever?" Fiona mutters, glancing around the room. And then she's downing fully half of her drink in a single movement, eyes sparkling. So she's a functional alcoholic. If she wasn't, drinking this much fairywine would have killed her. "He's definitely not Sparkling. The White Council handled that years ago."
"Red's a good choice." Lance called it, as it turned out. Fiona's comment about not wanting to live forever puts the vampire in full brood mode. A normal life would've been fine, really, but that's not the cards he's been dealt. "Just as well they did." Concerning the White Council.
"Don't count on it." By the time Lance returns, he's carrying two glasses of red. One is given off to Angel, and then he shifts the other from his right hand to his left. He's grinning though, and absolutely not extrapolating on what his comment really meant. "Come on, Angelcake. No moping. I finally get to see you in pretty colors, and you're easing into Angst Mode? Denied! Ms. Goode, what are we to do with him?" And he's very careful: he says "Ms." just accenting the s enough to sound vaguely z-ish. He's definitely noticed the beauty treatment.
Clever boy. Lance gets another quirked eyebrow from Fiona, before she looks to Angel again. "Well, seeing as he's stag, and it doesn't count if it's in the Nevernever, the two of you could dip behind some bushes and pay tribute to the Spring Court like all these other youngsters seem to be intent on doing." Her smile turns wicked, now, and she's obviously teasing. Fiona would never really suggest infidelity... Just casually engage in it.
By now, the excuse has become rote. He's already had to tell several of the Fae ladies this one to get them to back off, and he repeats it without really thinking about it. "Buffy and I consider ourselves avowed." Which means no ceremony has been done to that end, but...for all intents and purposes, Angel's not going behind any bushes. "On the other hand, I AM the Spring Knight now, so if you two wish to engage in honoring us..."
"Ms. Goode already has," Lance comments, without a trace of doubt. His grin never once falters, and he takes another little sip of his wine. "As for me, I have plans later. Honestly, how can you be this miserable at a Fairy Ball? Especially if you've got someone that important to you. I've never met a vampire so...somber. Witches, though," he continues, glancing to the Supreme, "witches I get. Demons and witches. We're like...spinach and artichoke. Or popcorn and anything."
Angel's not buying it at all, of course, that tone of voice is one he's heard too many times. "You seem to have no lack of suitors despite your restraint." And then he explains the somberness to Lance. "Despite having everything I want now, I've never forgotten the lives I took from people when I was evil. They're why I continue to fight every night."
"Whatever floats your balloons, jefe." Lance glances around the room and the notable personalities milling about. "Hey, look at him...he's giving you the eye. The good one." This, of course, is more to Fiona than to Angel. "I feel like...codpieces should be super trendy back on Earth. That's a fashion trend that needs to hit again, in a big way."
"I would never dream of risking entrapment in the Nevernever for a few heady moments of passion. A moment's pleasure for a lifetime of pain? Perish the thought." Her drink is finished off, now, and Fiona sets it on the tray of a waiter who walks by conveniently. "The codpiece... It vaguely reminds me of men's fashion we see today. though it would probably end up like the botas tribalera scene, and the codpieces would get more and more ridiculous as time went on, as a symbol of masculine virility. And do we really want to see wrinkled old politicians in tights and codpieces again?"
"Yeah!" Lance answers just about instantly. "Sure! Why not? At least they're honest. The codpieces, I mean. Saying 'hey! Look at me, I'm virile and it's important to me!' and not just trying to pretend like there's some great, noble motive behind everything. They want power or they wanna get laid. Keep it simple." He gulps down the last of his wine and smacks his lips with relish. "So many humans, most of them really, over complicate everything *so much*."
The Knight of Hell otherwise known as Demogorgon looks back to Fiona, flashing her a grin before he dips his head slightly to her. "I'm gonna mingle. Hope to see you again. Remember, thirty minutes between food and...aerobics." With a wink, he's on his way back to join Abaddon, who has managed to engage a number of what appear to be leprechauns.