::hiccup:: "Allrighty! I think I'm gettin' there!" ::hiccup::

It was embarrasing. She was over the age of twenty one and she could barely hold a drink. How many glasses of wine had she consumed? Well, she had lost count, but it was no more than 5. She was a lightweight, what could she say?

What had possessed such a nice, clean, alcohol free witch to do such a thing? Her quest to summon the Gods, of course! And it states clearly that one must be either throughly sloshed or having a hopping good time in order to summon Dionis. She was, in fact, having both. Alice hadn't been drunk in a good while, and she was having a very good time.

By herself, of course. She was seated in a far corner of the pub, away from most of the other 'late night' customers. If the God did choose to appear, she didn't want him (or her) to have to deal with other mortal besides herself.

With slightly numb lips, Alice Singleton attempted to do what she had come here to achieve.

"God of Wine and Revalwheey.. Reval-RY, show yourself!" She said rather loudly, unable to speak as clearly as she wished. Hmm. That's interesting! Better drink some more wine then! With closed eyes, she tipped up her glass.

The air swells and something moves, something slight and inconvenient and the world around it shudders, atoms whining and quarks turning themselves inside-out in the desperate attempt to be where they had been, which is now occupied by something else.

And her glass is full again.

That's the first thing. Dionis is slow, today, lots of slow things inside him twisting around and dragging everything out, his skin the first thing to be (which is useful because then the insides have somewhere to go), and he's.. well, he's asleep. Kind of. Eyes glazed and only half-open, mouth a little parted, lips wet and shiny with orange wax-gloss and the rest of him wet and shiny with what might be water, and maybe a little body oil. He looks underage, or maybe it's the slackness of his face, body a pile of limbs on a chair and skin humming green-bright-glow. He's also naked.

"Nnn?"

A question. A good one. A better one if he hadn't been looking at the ceiling when he'd said it, eyes bright and glassy in the dim lights and very, very wet-asphalt grey.

It took Alice exactly 5.4 seconds to take in what she had just seen. He was sitting in the chair next to her. Absoleutly stark naked. The fact his skin was very faintly green didn't really get to her, she was used to the little oddities of the Gods, more or less, by now. But the nudity, well...

"AH!"

Yes, 'AH!', the strangled cry of Alice came as she covered her eyes with her hands. Why was he naked of all things?!

"You're... Dionis, I suppose." She said, her hands now at her wine glass and her eyes pointed at the floor. Yes, she knew he was a God and he most likely didn't care that he was naked in the middle of a pub, but Alice had the instinct to look away when someone was...

exposed.

Considers this, rather seriously, as if she may be trying to trick him. With the effort of thought his eyes fall downward, over her, slicking across her body and back to the eyes.

"I.. yes. I am."

Eyes steady on her, now, and possibly through her - absently scratches a hand across his chest, nipple (pierced after the hand crosses it, but not before), neck. Just dragging the moisture. The other patrons don't seem to be noticing him, or his nakedness - the only ones that pay specific attention are those too far gone to be entirely coherant. They are, after all, the ones Dionis likes best.

The other hand, which had fallen to his side, raises to his lips with a bottle of whiskey, and he commences chugging it.

When she had read about Dionis, he seemed like a rather jolly, lighthearted fellow. Afterall, the god of wine and revalry would have to be, wouldn't he? But this apparently wasn't the case. He seemed sullen, melancholy, and otherthings. Thuroughly stoned was among them. She felt his gaze pass over her body, and felt strangely... what did she feel? She couldn't be sure. She wasn't familiar with the sensation that shot though her body.

The appearance of the nipple ring was unexpected, but the wiskey wasn't. As he downed the amber liquid, how can he do that?, she tried to get feeling to come back to her lips and the haziness to leave her head.

"Thank you for comin'... I was worried that maybe I wasn' drunk enough." She slurred lightly, swirling her wine glass slowly. Drink, or not drink? Hummm....

Finishes the bottle in a last, harsh swallow (his throat spasms and chokes halfway through but he drinks through it), empty glass dropped to the floor where it doesn't shatter or hit, just falls and is there. He doesn't watch it go, just watches Alice think about drinking.

"Can I help you?"

Voice straight and sober and yet very slurred, hands making little designs in the air at his sides. Doing nothing. There's a green pill ingesting deep inside him and there's something inside of it that shouldn't be there, and he considers this, and ignores it. Watching her. Stripping her, maybe, with his eyes, until she's just veins and he can watch the alcohol go through her.

This was the part when Alice usually got nervous. Afterall, she didn't call the Gods for permission to 'further increase her powers' or whatever nonsense the mages might say. She simply wanted to know the gods. Try to grasp at their character, as confusing and inexplicable as they might be. As I said, this was usually the part where Alice gets nervous.

It's amazing, what a little alcohol can do.

Finally deciding that she might as well, she took a long drink from her glass. After swallowing, she looked over at the god who seemed to be... staring her down. In such a way, that it peirced through her drunken stupor and made her feel somewhat uncomfertable.

"I just want to talk, ya' know? I mean, if you have better things ta' do and ya' don't wanna' mess with meh, then you don't have to... I just.. ya' know... wanted to spend some time with you." She said slowly, trying to pronounce all her words correctly and to stop slurring.

It didn't work.

No, it didn't, but the slur makes him smile a little like how some men watch car crashes. He should, possibly, be paying more attention to this process of chemical interaction inside him, but the distraction of this girl is a bit great and his fingertips are buzzing and cold.

"You sound like this chit I met who tried to have my kid."

Eyebrow raises, messy brown-green and his eyes are getting clouded.

"You want kids?"

Slow roll of his neck, mostly because he can't feel how the tendons connect any more.

She shook her head almost wildly, her curly hair flying about around her head. Upon stopping, her head wobbled a bit, still dizzy.

"No, not right now! Probably not ever, considering I can't get a man!" She sniffled, then took another long swig of her drink. It was her weakness, the apparent repulsion men felt for her. She supposed it had something to do with the fact she was a living doormat, but Alice couldn't be sure.

"I don't wanna' have your kids. I just wanna' talk until you threaten me into letting you go, or just ask or.. or... somthing like that." She looked into her empty glass and wondered why it was empty.

Blank look, skin dulling to a barely-there sick glow that spreads into his hair and whitewashes the colour along his arms and neck.

"Let me.. go?"

Instinctive flex of his wrist and forearms (cuffs?) before.. right. Calling spell. Some ancient karma-rule thing. Who the hell had decided that? It's been a while. He doesn't remember.

"Oh. Hm."

Her glass stayed empty, even the residue lifting off, and he watched her and slumped a little. Eyes on the table. Didn't look like much of one for revelry, or wine, or anything at all - mostly looked like a body easing its way towards 'corpse' status.

With slightly glassy eyes, Alice gazed at the God in front of her. He was still nude, and seemed very... melancholy. Was that the word? No. She couldn't place it. She couldn't place a lit of things right now... like her glass on the table. She was having problems doing exactly that.

"Why are you... like this? I know you have every right to be, I'm sure, but the things I've read about you... seem so different from the God I see now." She said, still slurring but serious.

Slow, tough shrug.

"I never much liked The Twa Corbies."

As if this were an answer to everything, he turns back to the table, visibly expecting a response from the wood. There's something deep and thick and slow building up down his spine, or the spine he's made for himself, and it's very, very hard to move past that and into the air around him, which smells like cleanser and magic and gin.

"I.. mmn."

A shrug. He's nearly asleep, which.. which isn't entirely possible, the way he's supposed to work. One foot itches at the heel of another, which is grimy and flaking bits of dried blood. Not his. A sneeze.

Alice was confused. Dionis seemed like he was about to pass out. She hadn't thought gods could pass out... or go to sleep for that matter. Tempted to tap him on the shoulder and check to see if he was alright, she decided against it.

Afterall... he might not want to be touched.

"Dionis... sir... are you.. feeling well? Cuz' you seem to be a little.. uhm.." Drugged up, perhaps? Alice could only guess at that. She had never been high or stoned or.. or.. whatever they called it nowadays. She was a good girl. Even painfuly so.

((With 'melia's permission? I have Mari's.))

It's not hard to slip unnoticed into a bar, particularly one where most of the current patrons are focused more on heavy drinking than having fun. People drinking heavily don't tend to notice things, such as a sudden chill in the air, or an extra person at the bar.

He's sitting on the other side of Alice from Di, his hands clasped on the bar, watching the two with a curious expression. He's tall and gangly-thin, influenced when in western culture by western beliefs-- skeleton death. Starving death. At least he still has skin on.

It's darker skin than normal, though-- a rich spice brown that, along with the single thick braid of black hair, gives him a distinctly East Indian look, a look only enforced by a certain twist on his features, here and there. The eyes are the same, though-- always the same. Aways white.

He tilts his head to one side, unsure if the pair will notice him right away. Normally, Di would, but Di's been too human for his own good of late.

Death's crisp black business suite and dark rosy red dress shirt fail to make a noise.

Soft hum-noise, cool air and 'Are you feeling well?' and his fingertips are cool and dry. He presses them to his eyes and doesn't bother closing them.

Pan always said Dionis could get addicted to anything and it's true, and maybe this body is part of that. The feeling of blood and liver function and pulse, all these things that he doesn't need and really can't sustain with the.. with the way he functions. The body's practically real, at this point, every effort of eyelash and freckle and inner organ completely tangible. It's.. good, sometimes. To feel the most of what he can make, or produce, to feel intoxication as deep as he can get it. Besides, Pan's been busy lately, and.. and, well, the others don't talk to him much. This is a coherent thought even as Azrael appears, as Death falls into the room with them, and it's.. it's hard not to notice, but he doesn't. Maybe willfully.

Alice didn't notice the god at first, of course. She was still focused on the one at hand, trying to make sense of what he was. He seemed... more real than the other gods. It was if he was truly there, not simply an image to make their presence known visually. An onlooker could probably see the cogs turning in her head.

Silly Alice. Trying to make sense of the gods... will she ever learn?

It took a few seconds for her realise there was another presence at the table. It was the cold she felt first, a slight change in the temperature. Wrapping her arms about her, she looked to find a very gaunt, lanky Indian man beside her.

When had he....? She blamed it on the alcohol, and looked to him with a raised eyebrow. Upon further inspection, she noticed sonething rather odd.

Who has white eyes?

Marilyn Manson.

Oh. Fan. Riight.....

His lips curve further.

"Hello, Alice, Dionis."

If the eyes take a moment to click, the voice is immediately recognizeable. There isn't anything quite like it-- isn't anything else so good at raising the hairs on a mortal body. It reminds one of a ticking clock without sounding anything like one.

"Having a good drink?"

Slow wave of his hand, gently startled but unimpressed.

"Don't kill the girl, Az, then she'll.. she'll.."

Doesn't remember the rules. Then she won't be able to release him? Then he'll be released? His fingertips are dry and sting the whites of his eyes where he rests them and the room spins different colours with every new angle. The nakedness is less seductive, now, more reminiscent of a corpse in need of a bag or blanket - he's slow and low and tired-looking and can't bring himself to remember why.

(( OOC: Allrighty, I'm just going to make this as though Alice has never met Az. S'ok with you, Jack? ))

With something of a startled blink mixed with a whole body twitch, Alice looked over at Az. It had clicked finally, that this was the God of Death and Dreams.

Gods... two... at once? That was a little... terrifying. Swallowing hard, she looked over at Azreal once more.

"Uh... W-welcome... Azreal." She mumbled, trying to think of something interesting to say. Unfortunatly, her brain wasn't working well due to the alcohol and the fact that she just didn't think well under stress.

((Umm. I suppose. gnerally we try to stick to one timeline, though-- what happened, happened. Maybe she just isn't thinking clearly right now.))

He inclines his head gracefully in response to her welcome, and flashes a smile. His teeth seem more white than normal against the darker skin-- as do his eyes.

"I'm off duty, Dionis, as much as I can ever be."

He traces a finger along the table, ice forming in its wake.

Slow nod, hanging on the downstroke and jerking, suddenly, upwards. With a crack. Eyes bright and wide (relieved?), skin flushed suddenly with blood and light.

"Oh. Man."

Eyes the bar.

"I need a drink. Az? Dead Nazi?"

The girl, now, seems to be entirely forgotten.

(( OOC: Allrighty... Alice -will- know who Az is then, Jack-o.. works for me. ))

Alice watched the two gods, their interaction. It was almost like two, normal people meeting for a drink... only... not really.

Dionis was different, seeming to come out if his trance-like state. Not exactly wanting to interrupt one of them, she kept quiet.