Characters: Angrboða/Riley (griefbringer) & Pothos/Eric (yearnling) Date/Time: Backdated to the afternoon of September 15. Rating: PG13? There's swearing! Yes! Warnings: Swearing?
Riley noticed how pale he went and inwardly laughed, being careful not to let him see how amused his reactions were making her. Not expecting him to take the bottle away, Riley shot Eric a glare that in the past would have made the recipient literally feel how upset she was, but thanks to the lacking abilities only managed to make her look momentarily cranky. “Damn right that’s my thing, don’t you know I was a jötunn once upon a time?” she spat back at him, pride radiating from her before a thought occurred to her. “Wait, are you saying if I was blue-skinned like I used to be you’d lose all interest? That’s racist, like you’re prejudiced against ice giants.” She was joking, mostly, and hoped he recognized that. “Hmm, seems like now I gotta think up some sort of nickname for you. I kinda like crackerjack, but I might be able to come up with something better.”
When the subject segued back into communicable diseases and he brought up oracles, she found herself playing a mental game of connect the dots when she realized that she had no idea who he once was. That was just a bit annoying, now that she was thinking about it. “There’s always just doing like you did with me and bringing a bottle of wine, forgetting the cups, and using that as an excuse to find out if they’ve got the herps.” She nearly said this was a date, which would probably have made his night.
The change that comes over Eric, with him tripping over his words and then babbling about how amazing his hands are, confuses Riley but not enough to distract her from wanting to know what he’s hoping to accomplish here. “Uh huh... right.” Finding the words to say what she wanted to was difficult. “Okay look, I need you to level with me. I don’t know what your game is, but you’re talking all this shit about how great you are like you expect me to just drop my panties and give you a go at it, but I can’t tell if you’re serious or not.” She sighed softly. “Actions speak louder, my friend.”
-
“I figured you were one of those northern pantheons, too... what, strong willed? to be anything else. For sure not Asian god, your face isn’t screwed up into a horrible expression,” plus she sounded like a viking wife, all hard knock and tough nuts. A modern day Ygritte, even if that’s a fictional world he once read (A Song of Ice and Fire) and he was clearly no Jon Snow. Eric was... well, he was one of them, since his options were limited. “I’m no racist!” He nearly shouted, a little itty bit of a smile in there, looking overly horrified and insulted by her remark. “Lady, I will have you know I see the beauty of a poodle! Not that I’d ever do the the poodle. The poodle doesn’t speak English,” and whatever train of thought had been on was now completely abolished, gone, out the window, thinking about the attractiveness of nature’s creations, but brought right back down with ‘crackerjack.’ “...Can I suggest no? It makes me sound crazy. Let’s try another, or you’ll be Carebear Heart.”
Typically, Eric just looked for recent paperwork from a health center before cracking out the wine, but he couldn’t help the smile that continually returns and vanishes; now it returned and he rubbed his bridge, absolutely laughing inside at her suggestion. It would work, typically, alas, “No, that’s too much work. I only break out the two-buck for the special ones. If you wear a latex suit, you’re usually safe, according to the posters in the health center.” Except mouth herpes. “Consider it a Dionysian lifestyle I lead, oh sugar plum.”
Suddenly as it came, the smile fades and his blood feels a little cold, or it could be the air sneaking in under the blanket, getting to him finally, though there was fire in his chest. The wine was doing it’s job. Shifting, Eric twisted to look at Riley, sucking in his bottom lip while he tried not to spew the first words off the press. “Well, I am pretty great, and I do expect you to drop them for me, but not right now while we’re outside. Or today, or tomorrow. Eventually you will, and then the next day you’ll wonder why I didn’t call and eventually you’ll hate me. But hey, it comes with the territory of being me.”
-
“You mean Norse? Yeah, I’m one of those guys, but I wasn’t anyone major.” If she knew he was thinking of her as a viking wife she might go all girl power on him and point out the women were just as important as the men, but if he had to compare her to anyone from a book series a modern-day Ygritte made way more sense than Jake and his Harry fucking Potter references. Ygritte would fuck someone up if they messed with her friends, whereas Hermione would try talking to them first, and most people knew by now that Riley did not have a way with words. “I always thought poodles were ugly prissy little things. Now wolves, they’ve got a beauty about them. Snakes do too.” Again, a joke, but this one was based around who she was and she’d understand if he didn’t pick up on it. “Fine, no crackerjack. I was kicking around the idea of calling you romeo but that might also make you sound crazy since we both know I’m definitely not of the juliet persuasion.” This was harder than she wanted to admit to.
Raising her eyebrows, Riley smiled in that shocked sort of way which indicated that his response this time succeeded in taking her by surprise. She couldn’t think of the last time anyone had referred to spending time with her as being special, and the silly girl inside her hiding inside all the built up walls of bitchery was flattered by that, even if he didn’t really mean it. “So I’m one of the special ones, then? Or did you only break out the vino ‘cause you figured it might soften me up in case plan ‘get Riley back inside’ hit a roadblock?” Either way, the plan was working. She hadn’t decked him yet, right?
There it was, the honesty she’d been wanting from him ever since they first started doing this dance. Nodding, she closed the distance between them, reaching up with her uninjured hand to take the bottle back from him. “If we’re gonna get into all this serious shit I’m gonna be needing more wine,” Riley joked, buying herself some time to get her words in order. “I won’t lie, you’re pretty fucking close to getting into my pants, but if you think I’d be crying ‘cause you didn’t call and hating you then you’re an idiot. Riley Casteling is not that kind of girl.” If anything, he’d be the one left sad and confused.
-
“Honestly, I ignored the World History section of school. You could be a Russian deity and I’d still associate it with a viking.” He had, that class bored him to tears. Most of it was already on the History channel anyway, or he read it in a book somewhere else. Pondering the thought of wolves and snakes, he hadn’t given their own beauty a thought. Not in a while. “Well, sure, I guess. Snakes are the cause of evil, I think that’s what the Bible said, shoot me if it isn’t, and wolves have a certain wild prowess about them that nothing else has. They’re certainly more attractive than a coyote or fox.” Foxes carry pesticides and to him are just nasty little thieves, having grown up around them stealing chickens. Being considered a ‘romeo’ took him a little back, is he up to that task? A stealer of hearts? Shaking his head, no, “Romeo dies.” That’s all he can say on that.
A small gain on his wavering upper hand had Eric feeling back on his roll from before, like he was going to become king. Did wonders for his ego. Of course she’s one of the special ones, she hasn’t folded and sucummbed to his thrills yet, with or without the aid of liquor---which he gives up willingly. He’ll let her get as tipsy as she wants, but he knows deep down he wouldn’t abuse that. Not for all the poodles in the world. “No, I brought it because I figured this was a good time to try it. Besides, I get paid in a few days so I’ll be re-upping my closet cellar. I trade it for goods all the time.” Like Val, a subject he won’t bring up. Amicable, yes, but still not something to politely trot around.
Something of a wicked grin was creeping up, out of amusement and a dash of amazement. True honesty is something Eric had a large problem with, he liked to hide all the facts and details behind a loud personality, keep it away from anyone who might be curious. “You say that, but I don’t think I believe you.” Not yet, because it’s never really happened. No one’s left Eric sad and wanting, it’s always been reversed. “Everyone grows an attachment after some time, Riley, everyone. Now drink up and hand it back over, this is getting a little too Oprah for me.”
-
"Sounds like me and American history. I grew up in South Africa, what reason did I have to be learning about the past of some other country?" Had she known that learning she was an incarnate would land her smack dab in the middle of Colorado in Montenegro's military program or freezing her tits off next to Smirky McDoucherson while they waited for a locksmith she might've paid a little more attention back then. "Fuck the Bible, snakes aren't all evil, but I agree with you about wolves." Mind you, Riley knew her opinion on snakes was in the minority as every major pantheon had at least one evil snake deity, but they didn't know Jor. When he gave his reason as to why he didn't like 'romeo' she outright snorted. "Everyone dies eventually, y'know. I almost went with Mercutio 'cause he's slick, but he dies too." That, and Mercutio was one of her favorite Shakespearean characters.
For all the times during their conversation that he felt he lost the upper hand, Riley never once got the impression they were struggling for dominance. It wasn't that he hadn't done or said anything to knock her off-kilter since he definitely had, more that she had started out their interaction wary of what he might do and that minimized the overall shock. Although, that didn't save her from the pang of hurt his statement about trading wine for goods caused her to feel. "Dunno what kinda trade off you were looking for here in exchange for your lock picking skills, but once that locksmith comes I'm sure I can find something you'd want." The idea of revenge sex crossed her mind, but it wouldn't be as fun for her without the threat of her strength breaking him in half.
Noticing his grin and the way it practically radiated that something mischievous was going through his head, Riley could almost hear the sections of emotional wall Eric had managed to knock down rebuilding themselves with each word he said. "Nobody said you had to believe something for it to be true." She had never before believed that she would develop feelings for Jon, and look where that got her. That experience had made Riley accept the truth of the 'never say never' philosophy. "Attachments can form, sure, but they aren't always that cut and dry, Eric, in fact they never are," she returned smoothly, handing over the bottle and hoping he wouldn't ask her to clarify.
-
“Well, I’m sure there was some logic, even if you did live in a country that was repeatedly conquered by white men with intentions of gentrifying the colonies and ultimately seemed to fail,” given his hatred of the class, he did still learn, and coming from his own heritage of eastern Europe, Eric knew about divide and conquer. “Everyone may die, but I don’t want to be known as the guy who loved his girlfriend so much that he died for her. I’m sorry, I don’t see the point. Love and death? No.” Sage words from a man who had never, to this fair day, been in love, and did not expect it. Shakespeare was always lost on him for that reason, except Hamlet. He loved that. “I only liked Mercutio in the Leonardo DiCaprio film, sorry sugar plum.”
Riley just kept throwing him cards he didn’t know how to play. This was by far the most difficult woman he’s yet dealt with. Triumph would be fantastic for both of him, but he was wary. Always wary. Scratching at some invisible stubble on his neck, Eric took his time, looking away and at the street to think. That would be fun, and he’s got nothing later, and a part of him does want that. “I think... we should see what happens, after all, isn’t that what you said?” He’s vaguely sure he remembers something of that.
But, unfortunately, he didn’t believe her words on attachments. Since he can’t show her, he very well can’t explain it without seeming weird. Things happen, usually by accident. Attachments are never intended, and since he never forms any, it only makes things harder, and Riley certainly wouldn’t be a one-night thing. Not when he saw her around campus, at the very least, or in every day life. The wine was a welcome break, and he busied himself with it, picking distractedly at the label. His emotions were all over the board this afternoon. “No, you’re probably right, but I don’t want to stick my foot in my mouth here and say something I shouldn’t. I like one-night adventures, sugar plum, because in the morning no one remembers and no one cares. I don’t want the awkwardness between friends to happen after. I’ve done that. It’s... special.”