Mixer with Mixers

[ginger_firebird]

Nothing, and Mantis will attest to the fact, absolutely nothing in the multiverse ever makes life feel so much better as a bit of alcohol to get the blocked-up words flowing. He’s chilling on a stool at one of the local bars in the Nexus, merrily watching people he’s met congregate like a bunch of cats ready to caterwaul into the wee hours of the night. From an outsider perspective, the gathered crowd of friends and acquaintances must surely say something about who he is as a person and the kind of people hegets along with, but such is not the topic of the night. Nay, this is a wake of a different kind to toast the demise of a she-devil that they’ve all either fought or heard of enough to have strong opinions about. Shots abound, ye merry fellowship, for the witch is dead.

Mantis is sitting with Francour cuddled up in a scarf. The needy little espurr absolutely suffers without a continued assurance that Mantis will always be around, and curious eyes scan the crowd as he gets idle scritches from his progressively drunk human.

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[ginger_firebird]

A tiny espurr waddles up to him, staring up with large eyes full of curiosity and wonder. Mantis trails up like a goth mother swan and watches as Francour looks between him and the angel.

"Come to join our socializing? We've got a little of everyone in this collective." Francour, encouraged by Mantis's calm tone, turns back to Moloch and waves up at the other man. "Don't mind him. He's not brave enough to spend a day with my catwing."

[bloodysacrifice]

"I don't socialize." Moloch tells the tiny thing that has walked up to him. However, he is more pleasant with the espurr than the approaching human. Moloch has been taught he shouldn't want company by himself and others.

"I don't mind spirits." He says but then his red eyes narrow on Mantis. He doesn't want humans around. He doesn't like people. "I was sent here."

[ginger_firebird]

Francour trills and walks up fully to Moloch, raising both little hands up. Moloch might hear an attempt at telepathic communication from the little pokemon. It's a simple message of greetings from the small mind: "Hello! Hello!"

I'm technically a spirit back home. I died there and remained as a ghost for ten years." He tilts his head slightly, Francour matching the motion. "You're one of the angels."

[bloodysacrifice]

Moloch's mind is not shut to outsiders but the pokemon will feel a wall of sadness and pain as it reaches out, as well as a strange sense of insatiable hunger.

"All humans are ghosts eventually." He offers off hand though his eyes are still on the pokemon. "I am the Razorwing."

He accentuated the name by shifting his flight feathers so the sharpened metal edges rubbed together.