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[lordofthesouth.livejournal.com]

Date: August 5th, 1999, Early Morning
Setting: Tadfield Manor, Lobby
Status: Public
Summary: In which Belial ponders the perks of working closely with alcoholic beverages.



Sunrise, he thought, should be made illegal. It probably would be, if anyone could get the rest of the universe to cooperate.

The lobby was devoid of anything vaguely resembling a living being, and smelled, very faintly, of antiseptics and cold metal. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, but after being immersed in smoke-filled pubs and dingy back alleys filled with the pungent scent of old garbage and transients, the cleanliness stung his nose. Better than sulpher and brimstone.

Belial approached the main desk, holding a crumpled bit of paper that looked to resemble something cross between a job advertisement and a laundry list, and scanned it for any sign of activity. Nothing.

"That won't do," he muttered, materialized one of those bell-type things he'd seen on hotel desks in picture shows, and rang it twice.

Comments

[sister-mary-laq.livejournal.com]

Sister Mary was just settling down to read the Financial Section of the London Times. Her coffee had just cooled to that perfect temperature. The sunlight was streaming in from her window. She really couldn't imagine a more glorious morning.

Suddenly, she heard a harsh ringing noise coming from the direction of the Lobby downstairs.

She wrapped her black robe tightly around her body, looked longingly at her coffee and paper, and then marched off to see who had the nerve to cause so much noise this early in the morning.

She descended the back set of stairs, mumbling under her breath. She felt a little sorry for whoever was about to deal with her in her coffee-deprived state.

She had just reached the the small office before the Front Desk when another thought hit her. Perhaps whoever was out there was here for one of the job openings! After all, it really was a tad early to be checking into a room!

With that thought, she stopped at the door, ran her fingers through her sleep-mussed hair, and wished desperately for a breath mint.

Then she opened the door and stared at the Being standing on the other side of the Front Desk.

"H-Hello?" she said.

[lordofthesouth.livejournal.com]

The silence of the lobby was broken suddenly, and it took him a brief moment to realize that he'd been spoken to. He whirled on his heels, blinking at the woman standing in the doorway. Belial tilted his head to one side and examined her carefully.

Well, she didn't smell particularly like a Satanist, but he'd done the papers himself. Unless there had been a change--but when something like that happened Belial was typically informed. It was his department's job to make sure it didn't happen. Perhaps it'd gotten caught up in all the mess of paperwork that had gone along with that dud of an Apocalypse.

He was on vacation; bugger thinking about his work Down There.

"Hello," he finally responded, his lips tucking themselves into a comfortable smirk at the woman's tousled state. "Are you Sister Mary, by any chance? I saw your advert, and I came to apply as a server or waiter... if a position is still available?"

[sister-mary-laq.livejournal.com]

Sister Mary didn't immediately answer. Instead she made a bit of a show of rifling through a stack of meticulously organized papers. When she did pull out a bright pink folder, she chanced to look up at the demon standing on the other side of the desk.

And she was certain that he was, indeed, a Demon.

Cautiously, she walked around the desk only to trip on the over-long front piece of her housecoat. She barely caught herself on the corner of the desk. With as much dignity as she could muster under the increasingly strained circumstances, she handed the Demon a lilac-colored (and scented) job application form.

Then she cleared her throat twice as she was desperately wracking her brain, trying to remember the proper coded greeting for one of Hell's Envoys.

But she was coming up short. It'd been such a long time since she'd entertained anyone from Below. Instead, she settled for biting her bottom lip, and nervously sputtered, "Yes, there are several positions open. I'd need to know about previous work experience in the restaurant business, talk to a couple of references, and know when you'd be able to start. Er-- do you have any experience serving people food or alcohol?"

[lordofthesouth.livejournal.com]

He lifted the form to his nose and inhaled the scent deeply. Lilac and a hint of sweat from her fingertips. Belial gestured casually and a silver-tipped quill appeared in his palm. He laid the application against the desk and calmly began to fill it out.

"I had a decade-long stint in Ancient Rome as a serving man for Nero, if that qualifies. I'm a bit rusty, but I'm sure I'd pick it back up with fair ease," he said, looking intently at her as he continued writing. Millennia of filling out various legal forms devised by the best--or worst, if you looked at it that way--demons in Hell gave one a few useful skills.

When he got to the dotted line, he scratched an X and wrote his name after it--in a language that few could read.

"As for references... are you certain you want to speak with the sort of people I normally work for?"

[sister-mary-laq.livejournal.com]

Sister Mary had calmly (as was possible) watched the Demon fill out the form, his elegant loopy handwriting almost mesmerizing in and of itself. She knew, without a doubt, that there'd be no need to do any follow-up work at all... no need to check his references... no need to do anything other than what he told her to do...

Abruptly, Sister Mary felt a rather warm tingly rush in her brain. It was almost pleasant. But it was enough to shock her out of whatever stupor the beautiful Being's presence had incited. Of course, with a long wistful sigh, she realized that she'd have to get used to putting up some kind of guard around herself if this Demon was going to be in her employment.

Of course, she thought idly as she'd watched the branding of his name on the bottom on the form, would he truly be working for her? Sister Mary had no delusions about her own intellect - none at all. She was a follower. She liked to fulfill orders to the best of her abilities. Hadn't she been trusted with the Antichrist Himself? Hadn't she then been told to look after Tadfield Manor?

Yes, indeed, she wasn't so sure she'd be giving any orders at all to this one.

And that might be just fine.

His question jolted her out of her reverie and she promptly dropped the bright pink folder, spilling out the purple forms out onto the floor. The wave of lilac scent was almost intoxicating. Her mouth watered and her brain felt sluggish.

She looked back at the Demon as she squatted on the floor to retrieve the papers.

"Er... of course, there's no need to supply references. I trust you implicitly --(which wasn't untrue and she knew it!)-- You say you've served before. And that's good enough for me."

She stood up, clutching the pink folder as if it were some sort of life preserver. She vainly struggled to keep focus on the situation at hand.

"Welcome to Tadfield Manor, then. What shall I call you? And when can you start?"

[lordofthesouth.livejournal.com]

He gestured surreptitiously and a soft, plush chair appeared behind her. Just in case. He assumed that she was educated in Satanic religious protocol, and should know the names of the major demons in Hell. Still, it was a bit shocking for most mortals to realize that they were talking to one of the Crowns of Satan--even if all that meant to Belial was that he got more paperwork and less free time.

"I am Belial, Prince of the Southern Kingdom of Hell and Bringer of the Seven Seductions." He paused briefly to wipe a bit of glitter out of the corner of his eye. "It's normally just Belial, though, and I can start immediately."

[sister-mary-laq.livejournal.com]

"I am Belial, Prince of the Southern Kingdom of Hell and Bringer of the Seven Seductions...It's normally just Belial, though, and I can start immediately."

With a small yelp, Sister Mary took an unconscious step backwards, falling into a seductively plush chair. Inanely, she noticed that there hadn't been such a chair in the Lobby, in front of the desk, moments before. And why not, she thought to herself. Really, it was quite comfortable.

She sank back in the chair, relishing the way her matted hair sprang out, enticed by the static electricity of the thick fabric on the cushions....

"Belial?" she said, her brain finally catching up with the current situation. She sat up in the chair, clutching her pink folder, praying to Whomever that she wouldn't make a fool of herself again before this Prince of Hell.

His expression was unreadable to her -- which was just as well. She could barely cope with her own expressions at the moment.

"Yes, of course, Prince Belial. Forgive me, I am slightly out of practice, so to speak," she said, as she nervously fingered the pristine corner of her folder.

"It would be an honor to have you here at Tadfield Manor."

Gathering her courage, she stood and cautiously took a step away from a chair she'd gladly covet for the rest of her life.

She began to speak quickly then as if channeling her nervous energy, "If you'd be so good as to follow me, Belial, I'd like to show you the restaurant and the bar. It is possible that you may meet our new bartender -- forgive me, I've forgotten his name. Something rather old-fashioned, though... sounds like Rachel. And then, our new Chef may make an appearance soon, too. Severus Snape."

Sister Mary bowed her head slightly, in deference. She was really going to have to spend some quality time thinking about her previous service to the World Below. She hadn't acted on her vows in years. But that was it, wasn't it, she thought. Vows. She made those vows for eternity, didn't she? She bit her bottom lip and recalled an image of a young girl, barely eighteen, wanting to follow in the footsteps of her favorite Aunt, taking vows with the Chattering Order of Satanic Nuns....

She shook her head, returning her gaze to the Prince. We can discuss your salary now or later. And because Tadfield Manor is so out of the way, we offer all of our full-time employees a suite to be used at their discretion. Some choose to live here. Some merely stay here if they're working the evening or night shifts. It is, of course, entirely up to you. I'll show your suite after we tour the restaurant."

[lordofthesouth.livejournal.com]

He glanced around the Manor, taking in the scenery again. Long, vaulted hallways extending off in several directions from the Lobby; spacious rooms, from what little he had seen from his cursory examination on the way up the front drive. There was sure to be plenty of room, and a fair amount of attraction for all manner of sight-seeking mortals, he supposed.

He ran his fingers through his hair and wondered who this 'Rachel' fellow was. Sounded like some saucy French barman fresh out of school. Rachel.

Belial's hand abruptly jerked and he pulled out several strands of hair at the name. Well. Perhaps not.

"No need to follow decorum," he said lightly, taking her hand in his briefly and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm on holiday."

He released her hand and swept his long black hair back over his shoulder. "I'd love to see the place."