Christmas was Sif's favorite time of year, although not for the reason anyone else used. This was her quiet time, after the fall harvests had been reaped, but before the first birthing pangs of spring began. She could feel the bulbs and seeds slumbering under the earth, but they remained silent and still. This was the time of year that she could do what she pleased, travel or shop, visit friends....whatever she chose. And tonight, she chose to invite her dear Hedylogos over. Something had been up with him lately, and she was getting a bit worried.

( She still gravitated towards the smooth talkers... )

When not surrounded by those who would raise a stink about it, Hedylogos was not one who ever fought the fact that he was a sensitive man with great breadth of strong emotions that sometimes needed to be expressed with tears. He cried. There was nothing wrong with crying. He was not a violent god and he never would be. He was an erote, a god of love and sensitivity. Of sweet talk and flattery and when something gripped his heart... he cried.

Something had gripped his heart. More than that, something had gripped his mind and then pulled at the heartstrings that had already been twisting and turning and aware they were doing things they shouldn't.

Bragi had given him a great deal of things to think about, whether he had truly intended to do so or not. They'd had a good conversation and it was always great to reconnect with his Norse friend, but... Hedylogos left with a heavy heart because he had to wonder if there were some things about what had been said that Bragi had been correct about.

( Especially that part about whether or not he was sabotaging his own happiness. )

It was rare this time of year that he was able to sit down and put his feet up on the tasseled hassock in his study. Which was why, as he settled into the cushy plumpness of his red velvet chair, Santa began mentally reviewing his to-do list for today. Did he really have time to enjoy his peppermint hot cocoa, or had he forgotten something that would require his attention?

( The List )

Iris didn't like to think of herself as a gossip. Oh, she knew damn well she was, but gossip was such a horrid term for someone who simply liked to know the ins and outs of what was going on in her world. Hermes, however, was as gossip. So when the two of them got together over drinks it rather was like two hens clucking over seed in a pen. They talked about everything: their lives, the lives of others -mortal and divine, and the world around them. No topic was taboo. Mostly because they were such dear friends who wouldn't dream of spilling the secrets to others unless they were of the utmost importance. Iris didn't create drama with her gossip unless there was no other option.

( Sometimes their gossip and conversation was catty: )