| Daughters [Makaria] |
[21 Jan 2008|12:17pm] |
If there was one person she could count on – it was her father. Her mother was happy in Jotunheim and didn’t seem to give a damn about her, except when there’s power and prestige at stake. Angerboda was as good as dead to her due to the way the giantess treated her as a child. Angerboda blamed her for many things, from her own deformities to the inevitable breakdown of the marriage. Hel hadn’t been good enough to keep them together, apparently. She didn’t believe it, once she was an adult. Hel realized her father had never made her feel that way – inadequate. Sure, they had grown apart over the years due to his imprisonment and her exile but had kept in touch enough to not become total strangers. Disownment was always a possibility, but they lived long lives and if it had happened – it wouldn’t last long. Or that was what Hel believed. She hadn’t been around enough to warrant one and short of her father’s lovers – Hel typically kept well out of his affairs. There were no siblings to quarrel with, and it was likely to remain that way for a very long time. There were no signs of Fenrir, anywhere. Jormugand was next to impossible to reach, as Hel wasn’t a fan of the ocean and he wasn’t keen on resurfacing.
The Alaskan winter wasn’t as harsh as it had been on the last visit, and this time she had come without her servants. There were no grand gifts this time - just had another bottle of fine wine in a plain blue gift bag. Hel wasn’t staying for the evening, or the day for that matter. Maybe dinner if they wanted to eat out or in. There were lights on inside, so she guessed he was at home. Hel didn’t expect anyone else to be there, after all.
The doorbell rang once. The doorbell rang twice. She smoothed down her fur collar as she waited, making sure her artificial image was as pristine as it could be.
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