mythopoeics

[ filter; lilith ]
Kitty should learn to keep her claws in, shouldn't she? You belonged in an asylum more than I did. Fucking madwoman.

[She woke to the sound of someone screaming. Normally the suffering of others wasn't something to alarm this queen of hell but with that Greek goddess playing games, the screaming so close and for reasons unknown, Lilith wasn't keen on ignoring it. Or the fact that she didn't feel comfortable. Grasping at blankets that were entirely unlike the ones she had in her home, she sat up and looks around the dark room. This wasn't her bedroom, not even a place she could really recognize. And her clothes were so plain, so drab.

Out of bed, she went for the door and rattled it, fury building in her. When a sharp, raspy voice told her to back off and go back to bed, she pounded her fist against the door. It was only when the thin slot in the door revealed a reed-thin nurse with eyes that promised pain that Lilith knew she needed to step back. Self-preservation and all that. After a few heartbeats and the disappearance of that woman, she retreated to her bed.

The paper journal nearby was easy enough to recognize and she grabbed it, flipping open to a blank page immediately.]

Where the fuck are we now? Where are my clothes, who put me in this fucking room? What game is this now? This isn't Zurvan. I know myself.

Quite honestly, I don't believe in this "in the reincarnate closet" business that seems to be going on. Shouldn't we all be open about who we are, if we're all of the same kind? Maybe we won't go admitting we're Zeus or Loki to our coworkers and clients, but what's the harm between us?

Here's my secret: my name starts with Ad and ends with Am.

I see you there, Eve.

[ Eve was here. Eve was here. And Adam, a man who often knew what to do, just didn't know what to do. Speaking to her without admitting his identity had gone over well enough, but he knew that eventually, he'd want to meet her. And when he did, what would he say that he hadn't already?

His fallout with Eve could have easily been avoided, but what was done was done. Eve confessed to blaming herself for what she did, and that was all he'd needed to hear. So why did he feel so apprehensive about approaching her? It was just Eve. She was, in the end, only a woman. But she was also one of the only two women he'd ever loved (Lilith was debatable; of course there were feelings, but maybe they were more sexual than romantic).

Ugh, women. ]

Today a woman brought in a stray Rottweiler who'd been so viciously abused, he whimpered throughout most of the appointment, until I gave him a sedative to treat his wounds. I will never understand the mindset of a person who abuses an animal.

Darling sister, I'll be home late tonight.

I was at the Farmer's Market today, one of the last ones of the year I'm sure, and I was thinking about how lovely it would be to have a dinner party. Then I realized that I don't know many people here anymore because of all the different situations we've all had to deal with, and that made me a bit sad.

I'd still like to have a dinner party or even a potluck gathering of some sort, and since I need to widen my social circle a bit I figure I'd extend the offer to anyone interested. For those who don't know, my given name is Genevieve Jones, but I was better known as Eve, and it would be my pleasure to make the acquaintance of most anyone interested in getting to know and enjoying some delightful food with me.

If you're interested, let me know when would be best for you. Also, if you have any dietary restrictions it would be good for me to be aware of those as well, just in case.

And I used to think math was difficult. If only they taught this in school, eh?

Girls, girls, girls...

I don't know about the rest of the male population, but I don't like it when you glob all that eyeliner on. I want to see your eyes, not a black hole. And don't try too hard. Because it looks like you're desperate. When you're in your early 20s, you don't need to be desperate.

I'm saying this, because my friend made me go out this Friday night to a club where we were meeting two girls. One of them had the caked on makeup, the 'I'm going to shove my boobs in your face' shirt, and was constantly hanging off my friend. The other? I didn't even know she had makeup on until I caught her in the right light, her clothes were simple yet sexy, and she held her own.

I've already called her back. Meanwhile, my friend hasn't even touched his phone.

I'm going to be perfectly frank here, and feel free to not stop me as I go on, but when women complain about men hitting on them while they're wearing short items of clothing, they really are just asking for it. What, exactly, is the point of wearing short dresses or skirts if you don't want men to strike up a conversation with you or call you gorgeous? The logic eludes me. Men don't complain like women do.

What a world it would be if women didn't bitch all the time.