The opulence was nearly overwhelming. The way the room was decorated, it was dizzying to the eye to take in that many colors and patterns all at once. In all honesty, Eris found it a little gaudy. But then, she’d grown up with the clean and classic lines of her parents’ temples, the bright, shining beauty of Olympus. What these French mortals were trying to accomplish with their printed wallpaper and woven rugs, with their cloth-of-gold and extravagant floral displays, with the richness of the food and sweetness of the music, paled in comparison.

( Which wasn’t to say that Eris didn’t like it. )

OOC: Before Aegir's feast but after the deaths of Baldr, Hodr and Nanna.

Iris hated going to Asgard.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. The road to Asgard was one she enjoyed, it did have a rainbow bridge after all. Bifrost was beautiful and magnificent and really one of the only parts of the journey that appealed to Greece's Rainbow at all. She found Asgard and most of the Norse lands rough and uncivilized in comparison to her home country and Olympus.

It wasn't that she'd exactly call them uncivilized but... yeah, she supposed she would. Sure there were gilded buildings on Asgard and it was pretty enough. Enough to visit, but certainly not enough to stay. Maybe a vacation home in the north, for the winter...

( On second thought, no. )

Gazing into the flames, Odin let out a long, slow breath of contentment. It had been far too long since he and his blood-brother had gotten away alone together. Not that Frigg would agree. She seemed inexplicably jealous of his time away with Loki. He tried to understand, but his wisdom did not stretch to understanding a woman's mind. Frigg seemed to accept and understand his indiscretions, yet put up a fuss when he headed out with Loki. Peculiar.

He took a drink from the mead horn before passing it to Loki. It was so comfortable, the silence that was unnecessary to fill with idle conversation. Not that Odin didn't enjoy talking with his friend, but it was nice to not actually feel like he had to. Too many demanded his attention too much of the time.

He reached for a nearby stick, giving the logs a stir. Before long, one of them would have to get up to get another. For now, the extra oxygen and rotation of the wood made it flare nicely. Odin leaned back, breathing deeply of the scent of the fire and the pine trees around them. They'd done well, he and his brothers, when they had created Midgard. It was a pleasant enough place, and the mortals proved to be good companions for the most part. Particularly the women. Odin already had a good number of sons among the humans.

"You going to hog that horn? Pass it over, Brother."

Zeus was less than pleased to be in Egypt. Not for any particular dislike for his neighbor across the Mediterranean but for dislike for the circumstances. It was one thing to holiday there, or visit for political reasons – neither of which he'd done with any degree of frequency. In fact, he hadn't even gone through the motions of meeting their leaders. Yes, it was one thing to visit, it was a whole other to run there in fear of a monster overtaking the heavens like so many of his fellow Greeks had done.

( Typhon was nothing if not a headache. )

There was no where else Freyja could possibly imagine wanting to be this summer. Never, in all her existence, had she witnessed mankind truly enjoying life the way they were right now. It had all started with the Human Be-In in January, and with the arrival of spring break, things really escalated, thanks to the wide media attention. The love goddess would have had to have been on a deserted island, all her instincts and abilities removed, to have missed all that was happening.

The Haight-Ashbury neighborhood occupants, thanks to the community leaders, were now calling it the ( Summer of Love )

Hera lay in the tall grass, breathing in the damp green fragrance of it. The scent was fresh and light, released when the blades had been crushed and broken. It was a smell that only enhanced the view of dappled sunlight filtering down through the leafy foliage of the tree directly above her.

Well, above him.

Her view was first a rather ruddy ear, then clear air dotted with about four confused honey bees, then the lowest branches of the tree, followed by the gilded leaves and clouds above. And while she loved the smell of the grass, it was currently mingling with the scent of sex and sweat, and honestly, if he didn’t get off her soon, she wasn’t going to be able to breathe at all. ( Her husband was not a small man. )

He wasn’t sure why he was in this godsforsaken land. He had no business to tend to here. The gods of Briton seemed to be avoiding him, which suited him just fine. He had actually been looking for a place to relax for a while, to not think about war. He had asked his wife to join him on this impromptu holiday, but she had declined his offer. He knew how busy she could get in Irkalla. The dead never took a break.

Nergal was not certain if he was in the good or bad part of London. Frankly, he did not really care. He was not afraid of any street gangs or other threats. Although he was not really prepared for the women that kept coming up to him. One lady was being particularly pushy with him. It was almost three o’clock in the morning and he didn’t really have anything else to do. Surely Ereshkigal would understand and forgive him.

( It had been a very long time. )

Iris was careful, cautious and contentious. She was always punctual and efficient. At least she had been. She was in service to Hera, it was expected that she would be. But that was before she met Zephyrus. Somehow the West Wind had completely swept her off her feet with his cheesy lines, his humor and his stunning looks.

( It had all started in that cave. )

Bast ran. She stretched out her legs, front and back, her little claws flexing every time they hit the ground. It gave her more traction against the sand and she was able to run even faster. The wind rippled through her fur as she flew across the hot earth, and Bast could not be happier. ( It felt so good to be free. )

Heading toward Vingolf, Freyja mused over her current circumstances. Despite all that her people felt about the dwellers of Asgard, she and her father and brother were being treated well. She'd expected to be chained, or at least confined to a single residence, yet had been given nearly free access throughout Asgard. There were no walls, and while the rainbow bridge was well guarded by someone named Higall, or Heimall, or something like that, that was the only thing keeping them bound. Yet escape was never a consideration. Their father had well informed the twins of the necessity of keeping to the arrangement, to protect their own people and end this bitter war that would only end badly. In kind, Odin has chosen to treat them well, knowing they would uphold their part in it all.

( That didn't mean they were exactly welcomed with open arms )

Spring in the northern climates always started slowly, or so it seemed to Sigyn. After months of being shut away inside, out of the worst of the howling winds and stinging snow, it felt as though the ice took forever to melt. Once it did, there was the mud to deal with. Spring wasn’t green, summer was green. Spring was brown and wet and chilly and still not one of Sigyn’s favorite seasons.

( But she looked forward to it nonetheless. )

Sometimes, Sigyn wondered if she’d lost track of time. Not of the time it took for the bowl to be filled. No, she knew exactly how long that took. Just as she knew how many steps it took to leave the cave, how long it took to pour out the collected poison, how many heartbeats it took her to return to her husband’s side. She knew all of that backwards, forwards and sideways. But she wondered how long they had been here now. How many years. She realized that she had no idea how many years had passed now. ( When had she stopped counting? )

The halls of Hera’s palace on Olympus, at least those of the east wing, were shockingly and eerily quiet. Each little whisper of sound echoed down the empty corridors. From the other side of the structure, the normal business of the day proceeded as usual, a low hum of conversation drifting over the cool marble until it receded into the silence that haunted the east wing. There was not a single attendant in sight. And there was very good reason that section of the building had been abandoned.

( Eris was bored. )

The official honeymoon period was over. That time when they were practically inseparable because if they weren't there would be looks and comments over what she was doing out of the hall and, quite frankly, out of bed. Not to mention the calling into question his virility. Though, Loki had to admit he didn't particularly want to leave this wife's side at all. Even so, there were things that needed to be done. People he needed to see.

( Specifically... his children. )

Sigyn frowned at the yarn that was between her fingers, trying to twist with even pressure as she’d been taught. But the stubborn fibers refused to do what she wanted it kept coming out lumpy, little knots of wool in the long strand that was thick in some places and thin in others. Spinning was not going at all well for her. Just as knitting hadn’t. Just as weaving hadn’t. Just as embroidery hadn’t. At least she could sew passably, but today’s attempts at creating yarn made it very clear she was never going to have the expertise to make the lovely things wife was supposed to provide her husband.

( And getting a husband was the measure of a woman’s worth. )

Small fingers twined even smaller stems together in an attempt to make a wreath of flowers. Just a small wreath, a circlet really, meant to be crowned on the head of a young girl. Harmonia was such.. a small girl. Not terribly small any longer where she didn't articulate things correctly, but young enough that she still wasn't genearlly trusted to wander about on her own. Which was why she was with her sister.

( Half-sister, actually, and Harmonia was of a dual mind on the issue of Peitho. )

Eris sincerely disliked treaties. They took perfectly wonderful things, like contention and contests and rivalries and wars, and bound them up into peaceful states that could sometimes last for decades. Decades of utter and terrible normalcy. In short, it was booooooooooooooring. And Eris had never been one to handle boredom well.

( Obviously, something had to be done. )

Hera stood looking at the delta of the great river that flowed into the Mediterranean Sea, a slight frown on her face. The Nile split into small rivers and the entire valley was green, and here on the very edge of the western side there was a small town, Rhakotis, in what was once called Lower Egypt. Upper Egypt was in the south, Lower Egypt was in the north, how on earth did they keep that straight? And if Lower Egypt wasn’t lower because it was lower globally, then why on earth was it lower? Was it because it was lesser? If it was, that was going to change rather dramatically.

( Because of Alexander. )

[Long, long ago...]


The cool breezed flowed effortlessly off of the water as Zephyrus stood on the edge of the clearing and looked out, his large black wings stretching out behind him as his arms were crossed over his chest. One might ask what he was doing out here by himself when he now had a wife at home, and a stunningly beautiful one at that. And he could easily answer that the spring was approaching and it was his task to chariot in the West Wind, to usher in the spring and close the book on the current winter.

But that was only part of it.

So much had changed as of late and part of him wondered if he would really get used to it, all of it. He was newly married, to the beautiful rainbow Iris. He and his brothers were content and happy in an of themselves too, closer than ever, always there for each other too.

He turned back toward the meadow and the clearing beyond when he thought he heard voices and was curious to see who or what it could be. Zephyrus could often be more curious and intrigued than what was good for him but it was who he as after all. And really how bad could it be. Not really he thought to himself. Zephyrus' wings pulled more against his back as he moved through the trees even more and tried not to be too conspicuous to what or whom could be on and about as well.

OOC note: Takes place prior to Set's murder of Osiris, and before the future Olympian gods births.

Asar had returned from his latest travels with news that interested Aset. As Pharaoh, he had taken it upon himself to explore areas beyond their borders. In doing so, he had encountered a different people than their own, across the sea in a distant land to the north. The land, he told her, was continually warm and green, as opposed to their own which relied so heavily on The River.