Skadhi walked through the door of her hall in Thrymheim and dropped her purse on the first table she saw. It was the equivalent to a mortal dumping whatever they were carrying the second they entered the door, such as keys. But Skadhi didn't have keys for her doors, there was no necessity for locks that keys were required. No one was brave enough to enter with malicious intent.

At least no one she'd met so far had been bold enough. They'd all respected her and her abilities far too much and if they didn't respect her, they certainly respected Ullr, who would not put up with unwelcome intruders either.

( She had been thinking on the things the Greek, Apate, had said. )

Now this, Apate mused to herself, her heels muffled by dense blue carpeting as she made her way down the hall to the large showroom, this was good. This was relaxing. This was necessary. Absolutely, totally, completely necessary. Others might find it an odd way of relaxing, but she needed this like she needed to breathe. Just one, big, deep breath of the air in Milan had calmed her enough for her to figure out what she wanted to do with her time here. Sitting in a hotel was not it.

( Fortunately, she was handed another option, )

In the end, it had turned out alright. Better than alright, really. The mortals were right about one thing, make up sex was indeed unbelievable. Then again, since reuniting with her husband sex was always unbelievable. The man had figured out a thing or two at last, and her added willingness could only add to the experience. When sex stops becoming a duty you feel you are required to fulfill, and starts to become a request and something to look forward to, the outcome is naturally going to be far different.

In retrospect, Sif was easily able to see the amount of restraint that Thor had possessed, how much he had tried to prevent a full out war between the two of them. He'd refused to rise to her challenge, taking the high road and once again putting the majority of the blame on himself. Sif, on the other hand, could hardly blame him for his concern. As far as she was concerned, the blame lay with herself. And Loki. It seemed after everything that had happened, he still hadn't learned when to keep his mouth shut. But she also knew how incredibly intimidated he must have been, running into Thunder like that. People say stupid things when they are nervous. Or they say nothing, which was her crime in the matter. She still found it amazing that it wasn't the kiss but her silence about it that had upset Thor more.

Summertime -- Bah humbug. There was nothing at all pleasing to one of frost giant birth in a high sun and the warmth it brought. If anything, the heat soured an already horrid mood. She wasn't the friendliest of goddesses, Skadhi didn't bother trying to fool herself into thinking that. Even attempting to convince herself otherwise, or try to put it into practice, was far too time-consuming and actually required effort along the personality change variety. Honestly, she didn't care nearly enough. No, all the warm weather did was make her cranky.

At least she could take comfort in knowing things were cooler on the opposite side of the equator. New Zealand, specifically Bluff, was as she decided, temperate enough to be tolerable. Skadhi would never find it to the level of comfort that was Barrow or Lillehammer in the wintertime, but it there was a distinct chill to the night air that left her quite content while most of the locals remained indoors or bundled against the temperatures they considered frigid.

( They could bundle all they wanted, )

Apate was bored. Just plain bored. There was really only so much she could do in Prom’s forge, and more, only so much she could do in Dolos’ room there. Primarily because she didn’t want to actually touch anything. She’d thought that the titan had been kidding about the crusty sheets, perhaps a vulgar reference to what her brother did in his bed all alone in the wee hours of the night. Or the morning. Or afternoon. Actually, she was a little surprised her twin could walk most of the time. But still, she wasn’t appalled by the state of his bed (since she refused to look at it) so much as the state of everything else in his room.

Sometimes she wondered if their personal cleaning habits were a sound statement of the differences in their personalities, she and Dolos. They were, in many ways, so very similar; their aspects and inclinations almost always leaning in the same direction. They simply found different ways of reaching the same destination, and that was where those personality differences were highlighted. That, and apparently, the state of their living space. With a little sigh, Apate decided just throwing a sheet over the chair was not going to be enough. If she was stuck here, then some of this… ( just had to be cleaned. )