milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Ambriel is sitting at a table, reading a book. The angel reads very fast, but periodically slows down, or goes back a page, the way anyone who doesn't want to finish something enjoyable too quickly does.

Between every couple of poems, Ambriel looks up and glances around the room, giving the patrons of Milliways the same treatment as the book. You're not going to run out of interesting things to see, here.

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Ava has a delicious minty lemonade!

She is looking for a nice table at which to enjoy it when she spots Ambriel.

Of course, Ava can sense demons and not angels, so her interest is only polite.

See, that's the thing. Ambriel can sense both. Ava rings like a discordant note in a symphony as she walks through the crowd.

But not like a full demon would. This must be another of the demon-touched, like Michael mentioned.

Ambriel watches Ava, eyes narrowed with consideration.

... Maybe she won't sit here, then?

Although she has always wondered what would happen if she ran into a psychic or something. Ava doesn't have her headband talisman on her tonight.

This person's face probably has nothing to do with her. Ava starts to eeny-meeny between chairs.

"You may sit if you wish," Ambriel offers. Perhaps this girl does not know she faces an angel.

Or maybe she doesn't even know about herself. The idea alone is sobering.

"Oh," Ava says, "thanks."

She drops carefully into a chair and sips through her straw.

Also: peers to get a look at Ambriel's book, because it strikes her as familiar.

"It is a book of poems," Ambriel says, showing Ava the cover. "They're very clever. I like the wordplay."

The angel is still watching Ava very closely, unwilling to give anything anyway until Ava does.

"Oh!" she exclaims.

"I know those. They have them on my world. There's one about breaking dishes? Oh and a pizza the size of the sun."

Actually wait, who did that one?

She's the worst assistant librarian.

"Bar provided it. I did guess it was Earth literature."

Stilllll watching. Ambriel's eyes are dark and intent.

"I assume you are from Earth as well. Or one of them, at least." Since so many adjoin Milliways.

It's getting a little creepy-- and not the creepy that Ava's basically immune to by now, either.

Cheerfully enough, she says, "Peoria? Technically part of Earth."

"I'm not familiar with the current territorial boundaries on Earth," Ambriel says.

And definitely not with Peoria.

Ava blinks.

"Oh," she says, "well, that's fair. I'm not really current, anyway-- you know the American Midwest?"

"North America, or South America?"

Yeah, 'America' wasn't really a thing last time Ambriel was near Earth.

"... Forget it," she decides.

"It was pretty boring."

"Perhaps," Ambriel says.

Maybe she does know about the demon blood.

It is always easier smite first and ask questions later.

Luckily for everyone in the area (including Ambriel), that is not how this particular angel operates.

"I always found Earth fascinating."

Ava kind of finds it easier herself, if by "smite" you mean "maim/torture."

"Well, some parts of Earth, sure," Ava says.

"Where are you from?"

"When I open the front door," Ambriel says, "it leads to outside the bar. I can tell you where I came from, but I am not from anywhere, originally."

Not in a way humans would understand it, anyway.

She blinks.

"You're not?"

Is Ambriel an amnesiac? And is now a good time to mention she's kind of ... weirdly ... mannish?

It's always a good time for gender confusion, Ava!

"No. I was not born, nor do I have a home planet."

She doesn't seem to be cottoning on, here. Is this a different sort of situation that what Ambriel was expecting?

Ava frowns.

Something in her gut feels a little cold. She hates missing cues.

"So what," she begins slowly.

"I mean-- I'm sorry, this is probably insulting-- what are you, exactly ...?"

"I am an angel."

"... Oh."

Missing.

Cues.

Ava's not sure what to do. Do they keep chatting? She's not currently being evil except at work, so that's probably fine.

"Cool," she decides, tone light.

"I was wondering if you could tell," Ambriel says. "Apparently not.

"If I--"

She frowns, the set of her jaw stiff.

"Nope. Demons only.

Everybody else is all the same to me."

"What's your name?"

Ambriel's gaze is solemn, dark, and very intent. But not overtly threatening. Not yet, anyway.

Ava's gaze could also be considered intent.

However, rather than being solemn or ominous or anything, it's primarily suspicious.

"Ava."

Beat.

"What's yours?"

"My name is Ambriel." The name has a clear tone when the angel speaks it, like someone very far away had struck a bell.

"I am not going to harm you, Ava. I only wanted to speak to you."

She frowns.

"Right. I mean ... neutral ground and everything, sure."

Part of her is sort of grumpy that she's reacting this way in the first place. Just because she summons demons, she automatically has to go toe to toe with angels? That can't be right.

"Sorry." (She's not sorry.) "Nice to meet you."

"Not only that."

Ambriel pauses for a moment, clearly considering what to say next.

"You may have an affinity with demons. But you do not owe them allegiance."

Unless you do, Ava? Do tell.

Ava's frown abruptly takes a turn for the startled.

"Are you reading my mind?"

Because DON'T.

"No." Ambriel is simply very good at understanding the true meaning behind words. And body language. And right now, that skill is being utilized carefully.

"Why?"

Dude, she's not having this conversation with a member of the opposing team. Especially one she's just met.

But what is she supposed to say, 'no reason'?

Ava takes a sullen sip of her lemonade while she thinks.

"... No reason."

"I can't read your mind."

Ambriel can't read anyone's mind.

"Well I don't know," Ava points out reasonably.

"I don't exactly hang out with angels on a regular basis."

Or an ever basis.

"You can ask me anything you like. Though I can't guarantee it being true in every universe."

The other Michael Ambriel already met proves that.

... What!

Well, if it were Ava, she'd make up a bunch of lies. Do angels do that?

"That's ... okay," she decides.

"I guess Twenty Questions is a fun ice-breaker for some people, but I can pass."

"That's fine."

Ambriel stands up, collecting the book as well. "I will leave you to your drink. I'm sure we will see each other again."

Maybe she should apologize for ousting Ambriel by being evil and bad at small talk at the same time.

How would you even phrase that?

"Sure," she says instead.

"Uh ... later."

Clare is staring curiously at something!

Possibly the angel. Possibly the book.

Maybe both.

"Hello, Clare," Ambriel says, carefully placing the book on the table.

"I am pleased to see you again."

"Ambriel," Clare greets her.

Identification by name is like a greeting!

Actually, among her kind, it kind of is. You don't know another warrior's name unless you have some kind of history with them, usually.

"Hello."

She doesn't really know how to address the idea of someone being pleased to see her. So she doesn't.

Instead: "If I can ask, what are you reading?"

She assumes it's research of some sort, because the idea of reading for pleasure is another thing that's completely foreign to Clare. Literacy is very low on her continent.

"Of course." Ambriel offers her the book, but not a chair. Clare would sit if she wanted to, right?

"It is a collection of humorous poems by an Earth author. I enjoy the puns."

Ambriel has manners like a very friendly organization warrior. Clare appreciates it.

She accepts the book, but only to stare at it curiously, even after the letters swim and rearrange themselves into the script Clare knows. "I've never heard of a book like that."

Humorous poems exist, she's vaguely aware, but they don't really get compiled into books.

Also, this is really impressively tidy writing. It doesn't even look as if a human wrote it. (That's because it's typeface.)

"I understand this author has several. They are more common than they used to be. Do you enjoy poetry?"

Clare is interesting herself. Ambriel would like to know her opinions.

This is not a question anyone's ever asked Clare before.

"I don't know."

"I haven't read very much."

The organization only gives its warriors enough literature and music and so forth to know what those things are. They're not expected to actually pursue hobbies.

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