"I swear to God, Buddha, Vishnu, and Quetzalcoatl, if you do not have [i]baby pink [/i]streamers hanging from the ceiling in 2 minutes, I will [u][i][b]FUCKING RIOT[/b][/i][/u]!" 'Bridezilla' was not a term that could be applied to Parry Magnus, Celestial/Angel in retirement. For one thing, anyone taking a look at him from across the street had a 50/50 shot of deciding whether he was the most flat-chested woman they'd ever seen or a man without cheekbones, Adam's apple, and a pair of immaculately manicured hands with designer clothes that'd put half the city's upper crust to shame. Parry preferred to manifest as male, but could technically pass off as whichever he wanted, not being a fleshy mortal like most people walking the Earth, but instead a formless creature born from a star and given purpose to hunt demonkind to extinction. But 'Bridezilla' would capture the spirit of how Parry acted before he threw a party like this one. The Fairy Queen of the city's central park was expecting a baby girl, and since the bitch was an absolute terror when it came to high fashion and parties (she just couldn't have afternoon tea without switching a mortal with a changeling; and people called Parry impulsive) Parry decided to one-up her Summer Solstice bash the only way he knew how: beat the bitch at her own game. Throw a party that she couldn't hope to live down. So he'd booked the penthouse of the city's swankiest hotel, a place reserved for the throwing of massive parties by the upper-crust, and turned it inside out. Baby Pink furniture, a DJ stand, an open bar (human alcohol had never affected Fae pregnancies, so another bonus there), finger foods galore, black lights and stage lights and Christmas lights atop others, and a small table for gifts the queen would probably never take but Parry could use for his own business. Another slight to her. Of course, at the head of the main room near the windowed balcony was a mahogany throne Parry'd rented. Where from, he'd never be able to say, because the decorators had gotten it on his request. They were that competent at least. The offending decorators he'd hired had specifically told him they carried baby pink streamers to hang from the ceiling, and in such quantity to make a sea of vines, giving off a tunnel of love effect to everyone who stepped on the dance floor. But when Parry arrived and the decorators had finished their job, he didn't see baby baby pink streamers. He saw Solid Pink. And Solid Pink was [i]not[/i] baby pink. "Solid Pink streamers [i]do not[/i] match the punch bowl," Parry said through grit teeth as the decorators started to raise the 'Solid Pink is good enough' argument. "They [i]do not[/i] match the furniture. They [i]do not[/i] match the cake or the cookies or the wine or the fucking carpet! Get it done!" And of course, the clock on Parry's AppleWatch dinged, announcing it was thirty minutes to party time. "No- better yet, [i]get out[/i]! Now! All of you!" "But we didn't even-" Parry wasn't sure if his blue eyes turned to reflect the light of a blue dwarf star or if he was just that mad. Looking back, it could've been either. But the lead decorator and his coterie of helpers got one look at his face and tried to hide behind one another like a flock of chicks behind their mother hen. [i][b][u]"NOW!"[/u][/b][/i] No further arguments from them. The whole lot swarmed into the elevator, pressed the '[u]Down[/u]' arrow and slammed the '[u]Close Door[/u]' button. When he heard the [b][i]DING![/i][/b] of the departing elevator, Parry had to shake himself to dispel the rage he was feeling. The streamers were vibrating from his anger, and he forced himself to take a few deep breaths in and out, drawing on the old meditation techniques Tien-Shu had taught him back in China. A clear mind was a happy mind. Parry had never been able to clear his mind, having the attention span of a puppy, but he was able to focus long enough to get shit done. Like tapping into his Celestial powers and re-coloring the streamers hanging from the ceiling into a baby pink color. Would it have been easier to do that from the start? Probably. But Parry Magnus dealt with toddlers for a living, watching after the supernatural community's children from his Little Angels Day Care center. Much as the werewolves, fairies, witches and others commented how well behaved their kids were after picking them up, an outside observer might wonder if the kids weren't rubbing off their less than stellar behaviors on their watcher. So Parry Magnus, in a silk white shirt, black pants, with his lengthy blonde hair and immaculately washed and exfoliated face ready to greet the who's who of society, tapped his watch to turn on the music and lights, sent the casual reminder text to all 300 invitees that festivities would soon begin, and snagged a decorative pacifier from the gift table. Less to do with the reason for this party and more to do with the fact that he had the best ecstasy in the city stashed in the bedroom of the penthouse, and he'd either bite or wet himself from it if he mixed too much booze with it. He'd roll those dice later. [b]=======================================================[/b] [b]Forty Minutes Later[/b] [b]=======================================================[/b] "Wa wa wa wa wa, wa wa wa wa!" Cue laughter from Cyrus Grey, Alpha of the West side Wolf Shifters. He probably said something insightful and funny, but the pounding bass from the DJ station, the roar of the crowd packing the dance floor, and the buzz of drunken fun coming from the throng of partygoers meant all the words were lost on Parry. So he laughed, tossed back the champagne he was holding, and politely excused himself. Without any prompting or thought for how it looked, Parry slid the pacifier he'd snagged into his mouth. A visual gag that also prevented him from having to chat with anyone he came into contact with. Considering he'd invited 300 people and almost double that number had showed up, he was right pissed now. The place was standing room only, the food was being trucked up from the hotel kitchen as fast as it went through, and Queen Bitch herself hadn't bothered to show up for his party! And now he was starting to notice humans. HUMANS! Humans had crashed his supernatural party! So Parry Magnus had to assume that these two capital offenses were inexplicably linked. The Fairy Queen must've arranged it just to get him in trouble when a drunken wizard conjured a fireball or an ice storm in the midst of the unassuming mortals. Parael started shoving himself toward the balcony behind the empty mahogany throne, reaching into his pockets for his cell phone, and started to speed-dial the fairy queen. She'd better have a damn good answer for this one!