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The Hosts: Demons vs. Angels

Akane Resort

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a part of The Hosts: Demons vs. Angels, by Shinku122.

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Shinku122 holds sovereignty over Akane Resort, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

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Default Location for The Hosts: Demons vs. Angels
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Akane Resort is a part of The Hosts: Demons vs. Angels.

13 Characters Here

Yukio Miaga [0] This is a competition? We weren't even trying yet.
Julian Le Mort [0] I've always been more of a lover than a fighter anyway!
Kamiya Fujime [0] "A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love."
Roland Anthony [0] "Wait what's going on?
Alcina Superbia [0] Pride is a personal commitment. It is an attitude which separates excellence from mediocrity.
Akio Miaga [0] A competition? I can tell you now that I know my brother and I will win.
Mizu Touya [0] "Well this is going to be interesting..."
Usaki Namanei [0] "I cant fall in love with the human. I cant fall in love with the human. I cant fall in love with the human. And I fell in love with the human......"
DJ Woodstock [0] ...
Zaron Spade [0] Hey baby girl! What you doing?

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Emerald Xiloscient

Emerald hesitated, watching him drink the bottle, listening to the open thoughts from him. She was glad she could do this now; he didn't, or wouldn't, speak, and without knowing much about him trying to figure out actions and gestures would have been much harder than listening to the thoughts that she could. She winced as he threw the bottle, glancing at the new mess of glass on the floor. She bit her lip again; she would have to try to clean the place up before anyone else really noticed it, especially the glass. She couldn't be the only one that walked around barefoot in the mornings.

She sighed, grabbing another bottel to hand to him. "Maybe you should just reaching for bottles; you're spilling more of them than you're picking up," she suggested. She would just take care of him until he calmed down; otherwise, what was really the point? She was assigned to be a host for a reason; hopefully it was a better reason than she was the only demon available to deal with a drunk like this. "And nothing's your fault; fate isn't exactly kind..." Not to anyone but the angels, she thought, disgustedly. Of course it favored them; their precious God was the one determining fates. Why would be bother with the demons, or even the humans, for that matter?

"...And I should have thought it through a bit more carefully before I said anything. A different phrasing might have been better..." she added, though mostly to herself. She also shouldn't have held back; should have rested her mind before breaking through that mental barrier he had created earlier, forcefully searching for anything she should or shouldn't remind him of. But should have doesn't matter after the fact, she reminded herself. She had yet to see a human affected this way by alcohol. Maybe she wouldn't try it, after all. She needed to keep her senses, not lose them.

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DJ Woodstock

Woodstock gave a small hiccup as he was handed the other bottle. Thanks. He took a swig, swallowing the liquid with a growl. I fuckin' hate my life... he thought, before making a staggering motion out of the crowd, toward the main exit. Need some air... He burst out the doors, a look of sickness upon his face, making it to the curb before he doubled over onto his hands and knees, heaving the contents of his stomach, his body trying to keep itself safe from the overbearing alcohol. Fuck you, body. He retched again. He simply stayed in that position for a minute, shuddering weakly, before leaning back, sitting on his knees. He gave a cough of disgust as he swallowed, trying to rid the taste of bile from his mouth. God, that was way better on the way down than it was on the way up.

He snatched up the bottle he had set down, swigging the alcohol to rid the horrid taste that had been caused by it, an irony in its own. Let's try for round two...

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Emerald Xiloscient


Emerald frowned as he walked off, unsure of what she was supposed to do. Maybe she simply wasn't cut out to be a host; perhaps that's all this was really for. The fates, controlled by God, were going to show her where she lacked, where she could never really learn something. Where the stupid angels proved to be much better than she was. She held her anger in, moving slightly to keep him in view, without actually interrupting him. Besides, she didn't really need to smell the vomit or the alcohol...although she was quite sure she'd prefer the smell of alcohol than bile.

So she waited patiently for him to return, picking up another bottle and examining it briefly. She still kept her mind open...which was starting to get confusing. So few humans knew how to keep personal thoughts...personal. She could barely tell one thought from another. She closed her eyes, to help her focus on only one mind; only one mind was really her concern. The thought of something about a round two reached her, and she worked her way over to him, hesitating at the door as she saw him drinking again.

"...Are you sure you should be heading back in there? You've already drained a few bottles on your own, and already have gotten sick from it..." She was about to suggest rest again, but she thought of the nightmares his thoughts had mentioned before. She couldn't really allow that one to go. She was the host here...she had to figure out something. "...Perhaps just relaxing...reading, or something...whatever you like to do...just something to distract your mind..." she suggested instead. Hopefully she would learn to come up with something better than that, she thought, because that sounded a little weak to her.

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DJ Woodstock

Woodstock thought about what Emerald said, looking to the bottle. Distraction... He brought the bottle to his lips to drink again, but found little strength to do so, instead setting it down with a sigh. He slowly got up with difficulty, standing with a tilt, attempting to not fall over. He made his drunken way back to the door, pushing against it, regardless of the sign that said 'pull'. A darkly-tanned man, speaking with a heavy Aussie accent, laughed as he opened the door for the boy.

"Oi, there, mate...it says right there! Pull...P-U-L-L." The Aussie gave another laugh as Woodstock glared. "Aw, don't be a bugga...say, you're the DJ, aint'cha?" He smiled as Woodstock gave a slow nod. "Well, alright! Just the lad I was looking for! See, now, me mate thinks that he's better than ya...he wanted ta challenge ya to a dual." Woodstock nodded with a grim smile upon his face. He was gonna destroy the man.

The Aussie gave a laugh and went to find the challenger, while Woodstock staggered toward his own DJ set, numerous times almost collapsing again. He finally tripped his way over, catching himself on the turntables, quite accidentally stopping the music, catching the attention of the party. At the second DJ set, a quite portly man stood with his arms crossed, his style suggesting American gangster, but his tongue heavy with German. The man laughed as he saw Woodstock stagger upright, grabbing the mic in front of him. "Ladies und genteelmen...I, DJ Drückend, propose a battle with our deer DJ Woodstock." The collective crowd cheered, encouraging the battle, Drückend looking very smug, while Woodstock held a solemnly mellow face. After grabbing Woodstock's microphone, Skivv jumped up onto a table between them, claiming the title of announcer.

"Alright, alright, party people, it seems that this battle's goin' DOWN!" He switched hands as cheers inturrupted. "Alright, since DJ Drückend called this battle, Woodstock gets to go first..." He looked over as Woodstock, who made a motion with his hand. "...but he passes it off to Drückend!" Skivv knew what Woodstock was doing; he was sizing up his opponent, seeing their skill. "PLEASE put those hands together for...D-J-Drückend!" As the crowd cheered, the German DJ set about it setting a beat, then layered out sounds that would rival that of Woodstock's, or so the collective thought became. The mixture of foreign words and beats with the talent as the DJ covered all the bases: mixing, moshing, cutting, looping, origional sound...even Skivv secretly began to wonder if Woodstock could be bested.

Woodstock, from start to finish of listening, had not changed in face nor body expression, his only thoughts being slight criticisms that only he would pick up. As Drückend ended, a smug smile playing upon his lips, Woodstock only nodded his head, but remained silent as Skivv called to him, announcing his turn. Woodstock, while his brown-skinned friend did this, had retrieved his suitcase, opening it to reveal, along with plenty of papers, tapes, and other items, a record. He removed the blank white square, slipping a hand in to receive the black circle, gingerly setting the record on one of the turntables, setting down the needle, then playing the circle.

A series of screeches, like nails on a chalkboard, emitted from the speakers. The crowd first covered their ears, then began to boo, Woodstock ignoring them, folding his arms.

After a minute, though, one hand shot down, stopping the record. He then dragged the record backward, the scraping sounds no longer, but instead the voice of woman, beautiful in voice, but scared in tone. "Please..." He set his other hand on the disk as he skillfully moved the needle and disk accordingly, the woman's beautiful voice begging: "Please...do not take what you see for granted. Please..." Starting the second turntable, a slight beat was added to the woman...the beat to Haddaway's "What Is Love?". He slowly increased the other sound with time to the woman: "...just show me...tell me...what is love?" The last three words were matched in the woman's voice and in the song, as he continued from there, the beat the same to Haddaway, and very dancable, yet was filled with emotion and soul. It was more than just music, it was a story; they all knew it, but could not name it.

As Woodstock finished, the voice stating against the silence, "...what is love?" The crowd, stunned by talent, shock, and tears, erupted into enormous applause as Woodstock put away the record, clicking the suitcase locked. Standing again, he looked about the crowd, smiling, before he bent over the set, blacking out as the alcohol had its final effect.

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Emerald Xiloscient

Emerald shook her head, watching him staggering away. He could barely walk, let alone pay attention anymore. She followed along, although at a distance. What sort of host would go off to mingle in the crowd, especially when he needed help getting around? But she still stayed at a distance, enough to be seen as being on her own, although she looked like she was heading somewhere; like she was busy. Or, at the very least, heading somewhere else, like bed, for how late it was. How she wished she could be in bed instead of wandering around! Leaving her mind open for so long made her feel a little more vulnerable, but it also drained her energy. Her mind, at the very least, needed to rest.

She paused, watching with curiosity, as he tried to push a door, despite the fact that it said pull farily obviously, and someone approached and tried to tell him that. Figured; he was too drunk to even read, or pay attention. She was about to approach them, too; to help him out, but he proposed a match between Woodstock and his friend. She sighed with irritation, ignored the curious looks she got for her reaction. He was going to try something like this while he was drunk out of his mind?

She watched him staggering towards the turntables, and shook her head. She kept herself at the back of the room now, just watching. Apparently there was some sort of order to this thing; she hadn't bothered much with anything other than listening every now and then, and certainly hadn't heard about this sort of thing happening. She would just have to listen, as opposed to trying to watch. She would recognize know the difference. However, at the start she was tempted to see who it was, even though he had been announced. She mentally scolded herself; she wasn't here to be judging who was the better DJ, she was there to play host to a human. ...Even if she did like listening to the music. She winced as Woodstock started; certainly wasn't the best sound she had heard. Was he too drunk for this? But he seemed to redeem himself quickly. She couldn't help but sway a little as the music went on.

The applause, she assumed, was answer enough as to who had won this one. Woodstock slumped over the turntable, and she watched curiously for a minute. When he didn't move, she began to worry. Maybe now was a good time to drag him off to his room, so he could get some sleep. Instead of trying to fight her way through the crowd, she went around the room to reach him. She glanced over him briefly, then shook her head. How anyone could drink that much was beyond her. She sighed to herself before dragging him off to his room, and laying him on the bed. Whatever headache he'd get from the hangover, he'd have to deal with it until he got up, because she didn't exactly see where she was supposed to leave any sort of painkillers or cup of water where he could easily see them.

She heaved a sigh beore heading back to her own room. Whatever mess was there from the party, or whatever they wanted to call it, she'd clean up in the morning. For now, she needed to rest her mind, before she herself passed out, but with exhaustion, not alcohol.

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DJ Woodstock

A man walked into the main room of his hotel, he gave a sigh, adjusting his cuff-links as he viewed the damage: the people and equipment gone, but glass bottles, vomit, alcohol and...certian articles of clothing...littered the floor. "Well, well." That was all the man said before snapping his fingers, a sudden throng of mysterious invisible forces beginning to clean the main area. The angel and demon servants that had been lent to him for the month, just for purposes such as this. He put it on his mental list to scold the host of the human boy who did this later, his own list fairly busy with other things...

Woodstock rolled in the bed, mumbling noises, when he finally rolled off the edge of the bed, landing with a large thud. He gave a groan of pain at the fall, then hissed as his head pounded. Goddamnshitfuckbitchmotherfucker-- He messaged his temples, trying to ease the pain with little avail. --sonuvayellowbelliedcocksuckershit-- He slowly got up as his head pounded, finding his way to the door, swinging open, yelping in pain at the slam it made. He made his way to the door to the room of which Emerald resided in at the moment, knocking, wincing each time. When she opened the door, he signed, Got any Tylonol?

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Emerald Xiloscient

Emerald was surpised she had managed to get enough sleep with how late everyone had ben up for. The only part that made it worse was the fact that she could still hear the people until they all left, most likely to head home, or to someone else's home, or some hotel room...whatever. What the humans did was of no consequence to her. Aftermost of them left, though, everything seemed to be silent, except for a handful of stragglers that left a little later on. Just another reminder of the normal human behavior; no concern for anyone other than themselves.

She was startled awake as she heard a thump, coming from Woodstock's room. So he was awake, then. Chances were he wasn't feeling too well, so she decided that, if she absolutely had to say anything, she'd just keep her voice down. Loud sounds hurt the ears and heads of humans that were drunk...right? She hated that the most she knew about these humans were very vague memories and whatever she could find out by reading, and she had been disappointed to find that sometime those books weren't entirely accurate.

She got up, searching her bag; she had had to use some of the tylonel herself the night before after leaving her mind open to so many for so long, and from using her reading power like that for so long without rest. She pulled out the bottle and waited until she heard a knock at her door. She opened it, reading what he signed(hopefully accurately), and turned to pick up the bottle. "You'll have to go to the kitchen to find something to wash it down with," she suggested quietly as she handed it to him. She hesitated before adding, "Would you like me to make something for breakfast?"

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(Oops...double post...sorry about that...)