The Angel Balthazar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tryingitall) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2013-07-29 03:20 pm
tryingitall) wrote in entrancelogs2013-07-29 03:20 pm
angels in the architecture
Who: Balthazar and open!
Where: The library, the kitchen, and assorted other mansion locations.
When: Monday
Rating: Probably PG?
Summary: Balthazar is in need of distraction. I have two scenarios here, but feel free to bump into him in the halls in between locations, if you're so inclined. I'm game for other ideas, too.
He finds it somewhat vexing how difficult the library is to locate on any given day. He's found it once before, although he wasn't especially motivated to peruse the contents then. Why bother, when he could ask his closet for any book he has in mind?
The flaw in this theory, Balthazar eventually realizes, is there are books out there he doesn't know he wants. Books about art history, for example. Having latched onto the idea of setting up a miniature gallery in his rooms, he's determined to follow through, but he needs more information. Examples. Ideas.
After a couple hours of wandering the halls, he finally finds the place and ducks inside with a grumble of relief. Now, of course, the problem is how to find what he's looking for within the library itself. No one ever taught him the Dewey Decimal System, if indeed that's even how the place is organized. But he has all the time in the world, so he'll begin at the beginning and wind his way through the stacks for as long as it takes.
When he began walking again, he wasn't aware he was headed for the kitchen, but once he arrives there he decides to stay and experiment. Angels don't need to eat, but Balthazar has developed a taste for one or two things aside from alcoholic drinks. Certain sweets. Well-brewed tea. Vegetarian dishes spiked with fiery sauces and spice. There's a cookbook open on the counter, possibly left behind by someone else, and he finds himself thumbing through it as the kettle heats. It's mostly baked desserts, and he's about to lose interest when one page catches his eye.
'Fried cheesecake bites'. Fried cheesecake? Fried cheesecake. It sounds like the unholy offspring of Sara Lee and a county fair funnel cake vendor.
He's not sure if he'll like it himself, but he's willing to bet Death would. Assuming he could somehow pull off the dish. After the recent TV land fiasco, it might be smart to make nice.
It can't hurt to try, anyway. He scans the ingredients list with a frown and goes for the refrigerator.
Where: The library, the kitchen, and assorted other mansion locations.
When: Monday
Rating: Probably PG?
Summary: Balthazar is in need of distraction. I have two scenarios here, but feel free to bump into him in the halls in between locations, if you're so inclined. I'm game for other ideas, too.
He finds it somewhat vexing how difficult the library is to locate on any given day. He's found it once before, although he wasn't especially motivated to peruse the contents then. Why bother, when he could ask his closet for any book he has in mind?
The flaw in this theory, Balthazar eventually realizes, is there are books out there he doesn't know he wants. Books about art history, for example. Having latched onto the idea of setting up a miniature gallery in his rooms, he's determined to follow through, but he needs more information. Examples. Ideas.
After a couple hours of wandering the halls, he finally finds the place and ducks inside with a grumble of relief. Now, of course, the problem is how to find what he's looking for within the library itself. No one ever taught him the Dewey Decimal System, if indeed that's even how the place is organized. But he has all the time in the world, so he'll begin at the beginning and wind his way through the stacks for as long as it takes.
When he began walking again, he wasn't aware he was headed for the kitchen, but once he arrives there he decides to stay and experiment. Angels don't need to eat, but Balthazar has developed a taste for one or two things aside from alcoholic drinks. Certain sweets. Well-brewed tea. Vegetarian dishes spiked with fiery sauces and spice. There's a cookbook open on the counter, possibly left behind by someone else, and he finds himself thumbing through it as the kettle heats. It's mostly baked desserts, and he's about to lose interest when one page catches his eye.
'Fried cheesecake bites'. Fried cheesecake? Fried cheesecake. It sounds like the unholy offspring of Sara Lee and a county fair funnel cake vendor.
He's not sure if he'll like it himself, but he's willing to bet Death would. Assuming he could somehow pull off the dish. After the recent TV land fiasco, it might be smart to make nice.
It can't hurt to try, anyway. He scans the ingredients list with a frown and goes for the refrigerator.
no subject
"You could probably just yank whatever dessert you're making from there, you know." It seems much easier to her. Open the door, boom you're done.
no subject
He leans on the counter near her and peers at the cookbook again, flipping pages. "...brown-sugar bourbon cake. Now there's a dessert I can get behind."
no subject
Meg knows who to piss off and who to give wide berth. Everyone else is fair game.
"Death does seem to know all, doesn't he?" She starts looking around on the counter she's perched on, possibly searching for something to mess with. "Gotta give it 110% when it comes to cooking for that guy. Bet you he's one of those harsh critics about his sweets."
Death seems like a harsh critic of everything, a fact she can appreciate. The dessert Balthazar names does sound pretty good, only because bourbon.
"Make sure you've got plenty of that bourbon, angel face." Sadly, she's yet to find any kind of kitchen toy on that counter, but she's bored enough to stick around and watch him work him way through this.
no subject
"I'll just ask the pantry for the liquor." He checks the recipe. "What's your favorite label? It doesn't specify, and I only need a cup for the recipe. We can drink the rest of the bottle."
He'll even be a gentleman and let her have most of it.
no subject
She ponders a mental list of bourbon before shrugging her shoulders, looking slightly amused. "Can't go wrong with Jim Beam. Keep it original, none of that Honey or Red Stag crap."
Hasn't done her wrong in the years since it's been introduced, why screw with something already perfect?
no subject
Tapping on the pantry door, he calls for the bourbon, looking over the bottle when it comes out. It seems all right, and after filling the measuring cup, he just hands it over to her. "There might be ice in the freezer, if you want it. I prefer bourbon neat, myself."
no subject
It feels just the slightest bit surreal, perching on this counter and watching an angel be all domestic. Granted, her only real experience with angels up close and personal was Castiel, and he seems to be the most special of snowflakes. For the most part, angels seem to act either high and mighty, or weirdly down to earth.
She cocks her head to one side as she watches him do his thing. "So, what's your story? Soldier tried and true, or did you sneak out of the house and run away with nothing but the wings on your back?"
Curiosity is a good cure for the boredom she's been feeling lately. Not to mention keeping her mind off certain other things.