[attr="class","mouths1"]The Ascending Diamond Bow. Rval's Destroying Aurora. The Pendant of Undefeated Frost. Ginza stared at the three relics on display, wholly unimpressed. One of her hands, its elbow propped up by another, rested beneath her chin. Another pair of hands took subtle notes on a little obsidian tablet with a quill (plucked from what was once Ahraet's wing, Ginza would mention, if asked). Much of her jotting down consisted of suggestions, seasoned with much sarcasm, regarding how to better display the legendary artifacts she had graciously loaned out of her collection for a limited and special exhibit here at the Hall of Ancestral Vortex. Even a complete novice would note how The Pendant of Undefeated Frost's flat presentation seemed to strip it of all wearable context. "Need anyone be reminded how difficult this item was to pluck from the neck of that irritating..." Ginza cut off her murmuring to avoid mentioning a name that only brought up vexing memories; even vanquishing left behind vexation, she had learned extremely early on. To show the jewelry in such a way, it struck viewers as if wearing it was never the intention or that doing so would be so incredibly detrimental that its display needed to ward off any notion of such. "Ludicrous." Whoever the host of this party was-- Ginza couldn't be bothered to remember the name of every person who asked to temporarily display a relic for an occasion of theirs-- an excitingly-worded letter would be in their future. Stowing the tablet and quill within her haori, she folded her six golden arms in front of her before turning to look at what was supposed to constitute a party. Sure seemed like a lot more, shall she say, unspoken socializing being conducted by guests than there was the usual kind, Ginza scoffed to herself. Par for the course, she supposed.
Sliding past many pairs of the enthusiastically engaged, Ginza approached the sprawling bar, constructed of golden petrified wood-- both the gold-covering and the petrifying had been performed by her, at the request of someone she'd long forgotten about-- her recalling her part in the creation of the bar remained in her memory solely because she had been proud of the job she'd done on it; what a beautiful thing to have made shining and shimmering with merely a touch. No menu, or even conversation, was required; she needed only to point in the general direction of the towering shelf of personal bottle storage the venue provided-- she knew not what type of spirit she had deposited here but she trusted it was something halfway to being decent and, more importantly, much more than halfway full. "From my bottle, and fucking hurry. For if I lose my seat and must be fucking deigned to sit near one of the many hopped-up couples here that you couldn't even joke about as being 'in the throes of being in the throes of passion'... You may well be joined to this bar in a more permanent fashion than your current term of employment dictates," Ginza growled delicately. Turning her head, she looked about for anyone she might know here, if such a thing were possible.
The social scene of Hell's high parties varied every other decade, as Imaris would note. Abyssal trends would change once Lalonian mortals copied them; change came especially when lesser demons started to copy the latest fashion and style. As one of the more infamous hosts of the Abyss, she found herself loathing the hassle of keeping up with the latest trends after a mere few centuries.
Thankfully, on this particular occurrence, she'd been invited as a guest rather than host. And although she turned down nearly every other invitation sent to her, the rumors of a familiar guest's appearance took her interest. Someone who would certainly make the occasion all the more enjoyable, after the last fiasco.
After arriving behind most of the esteemed guests, Imaris made her way through the crowd with a bit of difficulty. Donned in a stunning wine-colored mermaid style dress, she was stopped every couple of feet, pestered by those trying to gain favor or lie in her good graces. While greetings were politely and briefly reciprocated, she made haste over to the treasurer-- only to be amused by the glorious golden threats only Ginza could commonly grant.
"Lady Ginza."
As she turned her head in Imaris' direction, the council woman's smile was partially hidden by her hand, controlling the urge to laugh. It was those times where she wished fans were still in season, obscuring her expression from view.
"It's been much too long. Has my gift arrived to you safely? I don't recall a reply."
A formal inquiry for the moment being, with the gift in question: a ritualistic hoe, adorned with bells and rings-- its use detailed in a letter that she'd sent to the treasurer. A bloody tool used on Lalonian nights of a blood moon.
"And it was chosen with utmost care, too; I'd abhor to imagine it lost in transit."
[attr="class","mouths1"]All six of Ginza's golden hands opened to receive Imaris's greeting with delighted surprise. "Come now, Imaris, no need for Lady this or Lady that; it's neither required of you nor befitting of present company to hear you use honorifics," she said with a gleaming smile. "Not to say I don't appreciate getting some sincere acknowledgement from time to time," Ginza made a lighthearted sigh along with a gesture at the boisterous mass of partygoers behind them, "Fucking loan such and such for this occasion or allow item x to be displayed at place y; too troublesome, really." Done waiting for the barkeep, she extended an arm behind her several yards upwards to pluck a simple, beveled-neck bottle of spirits. Distinct from the gaudy shapes and unseemly designs of the other containers that occupied the upper shelves, this brandy's simple packaging belied its more-than-centuries-old flavor complete with tropical notes. The small, lucky circle of people she shared the drink with often described its taste as 'the nearest experience to affection one can enjoy, before bile starts to produce in excess'. Its label all but worn away with time, a random demon could be forgiven for thinking its presence on the top shelf was a mistake; perhaps a bartender from some time ago forgot to clear out empty containers and left it to languish, they could think. A golden sparkle appeared in Ginza's eyes as the bottle, reeled in with the necessary delicate touch, at last arrived. "Your gift was received very well, in fact! The Hand-plough of Crescent Fortune was a thoughtful fucking choice. Tasteful, extremely tasteful," Ginza answered, clasping two of her hands together while another pair took shot glasses from behind the bar for the sharing of drinks. "Now, I thought I'd had sent to you that, that little sculpture you liked, from that one fucking place. The bistro with the, hm, I think it was the bistro with the sultana scones. It was the curled-up dragon spine. If it never made it to you, I'll go and have words with the postmaster this fucking instant... Though enjoying your company is the rarer delight-- if it really never arrived, I'll make that little statue for you myself later tonight if you remind me, probably. Hah, I'd probably make it for you even if it did arrive, hardly any trouble really. Drink?"
Ginza took a swig straight from the bottle after pouring near-overmuch into the shot glass set out for Imaris. A soothing exhale followed her long sip. "Mm. I should add, that... that is a wonderful dress. If you told me it was a relic from some, I don't know, fucking tailor angel or something, I'd believe you. Lovely piece. No doubt you've been asked who you're wearing by everyone and their consort here," Ginza sighed, surveying the raucous and crude crowds that made up the party. "I think you were the only one who realized I had the complete set of blood-moon implements, except for the hand-plough. You don't know how much that fucking means to me; no one else would ever think to get that for me, in a million fucking years. I might not have known what it was without your note, which was very much appreciated. That's how lost to antiquity that hoe was... Or was supposed to be," giggled the demon. "But I'm starting to ramble! It's very good to see you; how has the year treated you, Imaris?"
Caligula laughed to himself from behind the decorated wine glass pressed to his lips. Somehow, through the jungle of uninteresting demonfolk prattling on about this and chortling about that, he'd found his way to the bar. The gorgeous wood filled with gold had to be Ginza's work, he thought. Nothing else like it. From where he sat on his ornately carved barstool, he could hear the nearby ladies chatting about the gift. Funny creatures. He thought to himself, keeping his eyes off of them but enjoying their womanly sounds. The man had stolen a glance over his shoulder when Imaris had joined the party, and of course she looked delicious as always. Ginza he'd caught sight of earlier, to which he'd smiled and kept his perverse comments to himself as usual. Being a classy man amongst devils was an intricate game to play.
Soft chuckles silenced by the clamor around them could be noted by the repetitive movement of her shoulders, Imaris being all too amused by her close acquaintance. Ginza always knew how to make her feel welcome, whether she was the host of such parties, or merely a guest as herself. Of course, it helped that the two's interests were of similar sorts, even if the treasurer was a bit more eccentric with her hobbies.
"Well, thank you for the compliments on my dress. Cheers to your correct assumption."
With clear gratitude, she received the overfilled shot glass and brought it to her lips, only after raising it in the air ever-slightly. Warm and sweet. As was her time had been since last meeting Ginza.
"The year's been fine, of course. I've even been going out more often-- just look at how tanned my complexion's become. On the contrary, you glitter as always."
She sighed in dismay, cupping a cheek with her free hand before noticing the general a few feet away. Cyan irises lowered, hooked on him-- but only for a moment. As was tradition at any hellish party, gossip was best spoken with the person in question in attendance.
"Which reminds me-- has Cal offered you any of those, I don't know, war trophies of his? Rumor has it he took something off of an angel and offered it to you. Consider me curious; you don't accept just anything."
[attr="class","mouths1"]Halfway to corking the bottle, Ginza paused to watch her friend's satisfaction with the drink. Following this, she enjoyed another swig from the bottle before pouring herself one more glass-worth from it, corking it, dusting it off some, and returning it to the top shelf all with the same pair of hands. The other pairs drummed golden nails rhythmically along the bar-- the sharpest-eyed or supernaturally-attuned could note the bar's gold inlay glowing faintly with each brief nail tap. "I worry my 'glitter' could just as easily be mistaken for dust; little has interested me enough to leave my residence as of late," she sighed lightheartedly, "But I thank you for saying so, in any case." Ginza took her shot with a slight smile. Noting Imaris's gaze track towards someone presumably worthy of her notice, she raised her eyebrows but turned not her head; instead, the demon's eyes narrowed and looked at the reflection one of her resting arms provided, in time with her friend raising a question.
"Cal Abattoir? Huh." Ginza clasped near to her two shining hands together upon the bar. "It'd be the first I've heard of such a fucking offer," snickered she. "But. It's not so uncommon. To garner interest in an item from someone by specifically not showing it to them or calling them to it. It falls under... the 'irritation' category of trade tactics, is my understanding." Imaris would likely recognize the sparkling sarcasm that flowed from Ginza in eloquent hisses. Indirectness had its uses, but it paled in comparison to what directness could get and had gotten for Ginza in the past; why break from a winning campaign so far in? "Last I heard," she exhaled, with a coy increase in volume, "The newer of our fair-winged friends don't run around with as nice fucking trinkets and the like anymore. Something to do with a policy against making donations to us here. A learnt lesson, one might say. And, in speaking of fucking learning, that makes, for the angels, quite the difficulty curve in continuing to fight the more militaristic among us. Especially when half or so of 'our own' run around swinging something loaned out from my fucking vaults. Thus begging the question if Abatoir would have anything of interest to offer in the first place," Controlling her giggles, Ginza gave a slight six-armed shrug and a nonchalant look to her friend.
The General smirked as he listened to Ginza's remarks. Lowering his glass, he gestured for another drink to the barkeep. Ginza's ignorance was entertaining and almost a turn-on.
Such anaive little packrat.
Still, Caligula kept to himself and watched the bottles displayed on the opposite wall before them. Parties such as this he never attended. He was far too busy, far too elite. But with his recent campaign having only finished a few moons ago, it was pleasant enough to sit here and waste time.
With how badly she was cracking up at Ginza's slander, the demoness was glad she hadn't been downing the shot right then. Certainly, her friend had a way with gossip. As such, she wasn't surprised when Caligula continued to ignore the two.
"What a shame. Here I'd hoped he'd at least have guts to give you something in person."
Stepping out of the way and closer to the bar itself, she sat the shot glass down onto the counter.
"Whatever he's having."
She gestured to the redhead's drink across the way, only needing to wait a moment before it was served to her as well. Blue-tinted lipstick smeared on the glass' surface, leaving a stain whilst somehow still keeping its pigment attached to her naturally plum-colored lips. She leaned in towards Ginza, whispering as she eyed the rest of the crowd moving about.
"So, do you know what this party's for? I may or may not have mistakenly skipped the details on my invitation. They were scribbles, after all. The name of the host was barely legible; it's a miracle I arrived at the place."
[attr="class","mouths1"]Ginza leaned her arms on the bar and idly eyed the rows and rows of questionably-shaped bottles. "Well, there's something to be fucking said about campaigns at home being harder to take on than those abroad, ah?" Picking up a cocktail napkin and transmuting it to gold, the demon pulled a liquefied glob from it and flattened it into a coin to flip towards the barkeep. "That's for bravely serving, in front of me no fucking less, my friend whatever shit that is. Consider yourself lucky she drank it without making a face at the taste, or whatever the fuck."
With the rest of the golden napkin, Ginza fashioned an origami crane without looking. She racked her brain to try and remember the answer to Imaris's question. "Isn't it someone's kid's anti-christening? Or maybe it's a funeral. I was asked to provide lesser relics for the display, so it better not be anything too grand. My guess? Someone got promoted and only felt comfortable using half of their new rank bonus to rent out trinkets and things. Clearly, the other fucking half went towards the venue." Ginza felt no envy towards the individuals tasked with cleaning up the many rooms that the Hall of Ancestral Vortex offered for its guests. Her advice for enjoying the venue to anyone who asked it-- avoid touching any of the loveseats here unless you can personally verify it'd been cleaned beforehand, preferably with fire. The bar tended to avoid such messes, hence her gravitating towards it. If her office were a bit closer, then perhaps Ginza would have 'attended' the party from there instead. Imaris's making an appearance changed the equation for the better, naturally; but the space allowed for more than just the two of them and the bevy of sounds from all sides reminded Ginza of the fact incessantly.
Imaris whispered over after Ginza flipped the bartender a coin, noting the number of eyes peering at them from afar. Three of the most esteemed demons in one place was sure to be its own gossip, each word and action to be scrutinized upon. Such was the nature of those with lesser worth.
"Your pieces are bloody works of art, to waste it on such worthless events such as a funeral... Especially on a child? No doubt they'd be unable to comprehend its necrotic radiance.
Do you know what I miss? The opera. It might've gone out of season millenniums ago, but at least it was dinner and a show. Not... this lackluster idea of entertainment nowadays."
[attr="class","mouths1"]"Pumpkin spice martinis do tend to disappoint in such a manner, dear," Ginza sighed, eyeing the drink shown in both her friend's hand as well as in the reflection of her own golden forearm. The tailend of the demon's sigh formed into a delighted sniff-- Imaris always appreciated the relic Ginza worked so hard to collect, and then display. "Between us girls, just the Pendant would have been sufficient to display. I just felt fucking bad the other two items hadn't been out of storage in so long. but hey, if they're paying for three, I can live with loaning out three. 'Good things come in threes', the sign-slogan of some new joint opened up, just across the road. Huh. I am fucking displeased I managed to remember that," she laughed.
Relaxing her joints, Ginza tilted her head in contemplation of bygone operas. "Opera unfortunately faded when folks realized that wining and dining could be done on someone else's tab and turf, all under the acceptable guise of 'partying'! That, and opera typically requires people to remain in their seats and not jump on each other the moment they realize their names share a fucking consonant. The person who ran that nice theatre, I heard last they were doing a traveling troupe or show type thing now. Good production values always, them." An idea struck Ginza and several of her hands gestured towards the barkeep. "For every finger you see me beckoning with, there's another coin in it for you-- go to the other bar, on the other side of the fucking hall, and announce half-price drinks but only there. Then come back and pour us something better," Ginza said, dismissing the employee with waves of the hands. "This usually works okay. I can't say one way or another if it will dislodge the comfortable, however." The demon gestured lazily at some of the more settled-in couples.
She scoffed, setting down the glass onto the bar top. Only a bit remained at the bottom, abandoned at the prospect of a different drink. However, Imaris would wait for the bartender to return before placing a different order.
"A traveling show, in these times? They're quite brave. One of my sons was just reminding me about the purge making its rounds again. If they're as talented as you praise, I curse that they plan to avoid it."
She raised a brow, recalling their brief time together. He was concerned for naught, but the information was a valuable reminder, nonetheless. Especially when she'd been traveling the underworld more often.
"Given they survive, would you accompany me to a viewing? It should provide you a reason to be out and about."
[attr="class","mouths1"]Ginza raised her eyebrows at the departing bartender noncommittally. "It usually works alright. Suffer not the too strong-willed to overlook discounted drinks," she said, raising her empty glass in a faux toast. As to whether or not the crowd might shift to the other side of the venue, Ginza cared little; her eyes veered not once from the conversation with her friend, regardless of whatever stampede or quiet shuffling may occur in a matter of seconds.
"If the troupe are still headed up by the individuals I recall, then the purge won't be more than a fucking production hiccup. They say the best artists tend to leave themselves behind in the pursuit of, of course, their art. It applies whole-fucking-sale to the lot of the travelling show, I'll put it that way. So, yes, I would love nothing more than to accompany you to a viewing. I should be so flattered," Ginza giggled, feigning girlish embarrassment by covering her mouth with several hands more than necessary. "What other things do you have on your wishlist, Imaris? I'm told fulfillment season approaches with no signs of stopping." Slowly crafting a quaint statuette of a dragon from a drop of gold, the demon rested her head on an unoccupied hand and listened for a response to her lighthearted ask.
The inquiry Ginza made shouldn't have been too much of a surprise, yet the expression clearly showed on Imaris' face. Eyebrows raised along with eyelids, her lips slightly parting as if dumbfounded. One could attribute the swift consumption of liquor to her latest state, however she was always one to hold down her alcohol and other toxins. She must have, then, been simply surprised to hear the question from her ages old friend.
"My, when time feels endless, what more could you need? I suppose a man once in awhile could be nice, though bloody tiresome as a routine."
Her cyan colored eyes betrayed her words, gliding over to stare ever-so disrespectively at the redhead once more. She spoke from experience, however quickly shifted the conversation after giving Caligula a light tap on the shoulder. She chose to forgo formalities towards him, unlike the treasurer.
"Ah, Cal, how do you feel about joining us if you're not too busy, hmm? I believe you might've missed the news, being the battlefront junkie Limbo knows you for. Have you heard anything about the 'one who escaped' some time ago?"
"If it's not on the schedule, I don't hear about it." The General said simply, turning his head just slightly to give Imaris a charming smile.
"I'm honored, Madame, but I'm to be back in the fray by tomorrow morning Over-World time."
Setting his glass down, he turned his barstool enough to face the women and rested the side of his jaw into one of his palms, elbow on the counter. Being as enormously tall as he was, even sitting he towered over the ladies. Caligula's fiery eyes looked each of them up and down hungrily for just a moment before regaining their usual classy glint.
"The both of you are far too lovely for such a shabby evening, I'm surprised to see you here."
