[open log]
Who: A.J. Crowley and YOU!
What: Friendly chitchat - drop by if you've a hankering for bothering a vaguely melancholy supernatural entity during the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.
When: The weekend before Christmas
Where: A bench overlooking the mall's skating rink
Warnings: None yet
How: Brackets or prose, I'll respond with whatever you'd like to use. :3
[The fake, holographic snow is drifting festively down over the busy shoppers and happy skaters, dissolving into nothingness right above the heads of most (except for the few exceptionally tall aliens). Quiet, unobtrusive Christmas carols of the secular variety drift through the air along with the snow, setting the mood and gently reminding shoppers that they only have seven days left to grant the wishes of their nearest and dearest, and woe unto them if they should fail in this task.]
[Crowley is seated on a bench set back a way from the skating rink, which is normally a large indoor pond in the non-winter months, watching the ice skaters and thinking of nothing in particular. An observant person might note that he's somehow managed to locate and stake out a rare spot between hidden mall speakers which is blissfully free from the repetitious sound of fifty different versions of "Jingle Bell Rock" and "Have a Holly Jolly Christmas". An incredibly observant person might note that he's actually sitting right on top of one of the speakers, which has suffered a mysterious and grievous short-circuit that the maintenance robots have somehow not uncovered yet.]
What: Friendly chitchat - drop by if you've a hankering for bothering a vaguely melancholy supernatural entity during the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.
When: The weekend before Christmas
Where: A bench overlooking the mall's skating rink
Warnings: None yet
How: Brackets or prose, I'll respond with whatever you'd like to use. :3
[The fake, holographic snow is drifting festively down over the busy shoppers and happy skaters, dissolving into nothingness right above the heads of most (except for the few exceptionally tall aliens). Quiet, unobtrusive Christmas carols of the secular variety drift through the air along with the snow, setting the mood and gently reminding shoppers that they only have seven days left to grant the wishes of their nearest and dearest, and woe unto them if they should fail in this task.]
[Crowley is seated on a bench set back a way from the skating rink, which is normally a large indoor pond in the non-winter months, watching the ice skaters and thinking of nothing in particular. An observant person might note that he's somehow managed to locate and stake out a rare spot between hidden mall speakers which is blissfully free from the repetitious sound of fifty different versions of "Jingle Bell Rock" and "Have a Holly Jolly Christmas". An incredibly observant person might note that he's actually sitting right on top of one of the speakers, which has suffered a mysterious and grievous short-circuit that the maintenance robots have somehow not uncovered yet.]