Gabriel, aka The Trickster (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
uberboned) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sirenspull_logs2012-07-13 11:44 pm
uberboned) wrote in sirenspull_logs2012-07-13 11:44 pm
Entry tags:
- ahiru,
- alice cullen,
- anna milton,
- aurican,
- castiel,
- chuck shurley,
- claudio kilgannon,
- crowley,
- dean winchester,
- frau,
- gabriel | the trickster,
- hellmaster phibrizzo,
- ino yamanaka,
- iroh,
- jinx,
- john winchester,
- kos-mos,
- mary winchester,
- prue halliwell,
- red x,
- replica riku,
- riku,
- roxas,
- sam winchester,
- terrance ward | trauma,
- xellos
Well, I don't know if all that's true, 'cause you got me and baby, I got you...
Who: Gabriel, Jinx, and their friends and family.
When: Friday the 13th, before sirens.
Where: A park that has been shamelessly borrowed for this event.
Summary: JINX AND GABRIEL ARE GETTING MARRIED.
Warnings: Schmoop.
[Friday the 13th is a day of preventing bad luck from finding you- and it will find you, somehow. But for an unlucky little lady who has been a staple of Siren's Port for a few years, it's her luckiest day, so what better day for her wedding?
A small park has been rented for the occasion with a combination of Jinx's charms and her pocketbook and it's really anyone's guess which one won out. Lines of chairs form the aisles, draped in purple, black, green, and offset by red roses everywhere. Rather than a carpet for the bride to walk down, the grass seems to be covered in a blanket of soft rose petals.
Let's just say if you wanted roses today, you're out of luck.
The reception area stands off to the side, offset by dozens upon dozens of ice swans and... for some reason a living elephant also decked in purple and black. Jinx wanted one. The zoo obliged. The end.
And where there should be an organ, there's a harpist. The groom, standing up at the front of the makeshift altar with the king of Hell on his left and a Prophet of the Lord at his right, looks as smug as the cat who caught the canary- or, more appropriately, the canary who charmed the cat- and despite the few stage whispers of "Yes, Chuck, it's too late to make this a Jewish wedding", all is well.
And when the harpist starts playing "Stairway to Heaven," it begins.]
When: Friday the 13th, before sirens.
Where: A park that has been shamelessly borrowed for this event.
Summary: JINX AND GABRIEL ARE GETTING MARRIED.
Warnings: Schmoop.
[Friday the 13th is a day of preventing bad luck from finding you- and it will find you, somehow. But for an unlucky little lady who has been a staple of Siren's Port for a few years, it's her luckiest day, so what better day for her wedding?
A small park has been rented for the occasion with a combination of Jinx's charms and her pocketbook and it's really anyone's guess which one won out. Lines of chairs form the aisles, draped in purple, black, green, and offset by red roses everywhere. Rather than a carpet for the bride to walk down, the grass seems to be covered in a blanket of soft rose petals.
Let's just say if you wanted roses today, you're out of luck.
The reception area stands off to the side, offset by dozens upon dozens of ice swans and... for some reason a living elephant also decked in purple and black. Jinx wanted one. The zoo obliged. The end.
And where there should be an organ, there's a harpist. The groom, standing up at the front of the makeshift altar with the king of Hell on his left and a Prophet of the Lord at his right, looks as smug as the cat who caught the canary- or, more appropriately, the canary who charmed the cat- and despite the few stage whispers of "Yes, Chuck, it's too late to make this a Jewish wedding", all is well.
And when the harpist starts playing "Stairway to Heaven," it begins.]
no subject
[Tra la la.]
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While taking a drink of your whiskey.]
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Sobriety.
[Pushing a fresh-poured whiskey shot across the table.]
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Bullshit.
[You've got functional alcoholic written all over you.]
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[He pours himself a shot.]
I'm more sober than I've been all week. It's a fucking problem.
[Taking that shot now.]
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I tried that once. It didn't work out too good.
[He pushes the glass back at Chuck. C'mon, man, give him a hand.]
no subject
[Instead of filling the shot glass, he puts away the whiskey and pulls out something terrible- the kind of cheap rotgut that teenagers use as a contest- see who can take a shot without cringing and acting like they're about to die. He looks at John challengingly, and slowly starts to uncap it.]
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But after moments hesitation, he nods. Fuck the police, let's go.]
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He pours them each a shot.]
L'chaim.
[He raises his and, with John, knocks it back. Let the games begin.]
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Jesus Christ. Yeah, no, this shit is nasty, but dammit he has to save face. He can't crumble in front of this asshole.
He takes it like a champ, but he still winces the littlest bit. Damn]
no subject
Not bad. I mean, I drink vodka like water, so I think all my nerve endings are dead.
[Another shot, this one a bit smaller, for each.]
Can I ask what you're even doing ordering mixed drinks?
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Good for you.
[A little sourly. He doesn't take loosing well.
He grabs the shot from chuck as soon as he pours it, determined this time to not crack.]
Mary, mostly. I gotta be good tonight.
no subject
[Ha ha Chuck's family. Chuck grabs his own shot, lifting it to mock toast John, before knocking it back. Once again, no visible wince, though his face twitches a little and he hisses in the very back of his throat.]