This isn't Raziel's scene. He's been to plenty of parties over billions of years, but most of them were masked affairs or otherwise not quite anything like this. He can feel the empathy and strong emotions in the air pushing against his Grace (it's easy enough for him to shrug off, but unusual all the same) and excited party goers here seem to have a habit of approaching him with colorful articles of clothing to try and encourage him to 'fit the theme' and 'loosen up'! Those people are easy enough to turn away politely (and sometimes less politely) too. He's happy in his loose drawstring pants, dumpy yellow sweatshirt and bare feet, thanks.

All of it's bearable, if uncomfortable to be settled among. It's the party goer that appears out of nowhere to glitterbomb him and the full lengths of his wings that finally sends the angel's mood spiraling. He planned on leaving within ten minutes, but now he's stood in the corner preening his feathers with something approaching anxiety. Why won't the damned glitter come out? What is this stuff? Humanity's ultimate weapon? Fingers twitching unhappily, Raziel continues picking through his feathers to try and get the itchy little squares of shining metal out of his flight feathers and off of the down closer to his skin.

Why did he come here, again?