| A Passion for Beauty (tag: Thor) |
[23 Jan 2008|09:41pm] |
Her agent had come through for her once again. They had a standing arrangement that she would call him when she was looking for work, rather than waiting to receive a call when something was available. Being a goddess definitely had its perks. She had never once been turned down when she called. And her agent had the foresight to pre-book her for this event, knowing she never missed it. To think, she had almost forgotten about it, while she was wasting away in her self-pity.
She had made good on her promise to herself. That night had been an all-time low for her. She hadn't been sure how she would ever face Eir again, embarrassed as she was, but the other goddess had been quick to assure her all was well the next day, as she had made breakfast for the less than perky Sif. But she had done it. She pulled herself out of the slump she had been in, called her agent, and got on with her life.
Stockholm Fashion Week had always been the highlight of the winter season. Especially for someone like Sif. The chance to wear the latest fashions, under the spotlights, where all eyes would be on her. She could feel glamorous, sophisticated, all the things that reminded Sif that she really was a desirable woman. She thrived in this world.
"Fifteen minutes, ladies!" The announcement put all the other girls in a flurry of activity. Sif, however, took her time, putting the final touches on her make up, before turning to slip into her first gown. This particular event showcased Lars Wallin's haute couture designs, a personal favorite of Sif's. She slipped on the little black number of silk, the flirty chiffon skirt teasing well above the knee. Nothing showed off her golden tresses like black, she mused, giving herself a final once over in the mirror. She was truly in her element. Hearing the opening music, and the master of ceremonies welcoming the elite guests at this invitation only event, she took her place in the lineup. Tonight may be for Lars, but as far as she was concerned, it was all about her. A new Sif was emerging, a happier one than she had been in some time.
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| Retribution [Tag: Nemesis] |
[23 Jan 2008|11:25pm] |
[OOC: Backdated just a smidge.]
Nem was not where Tyche had left her.
Anteros was kind enough to walk her to her door, kind enough to ask if she was all right for the moment, then kind enough to excuse himself very prettily. There was something in those brilliant eyes of his, however, that told Tyche he had something to do. She didn't need a Fate's power to see what it was he would be driven toward, and she didn't want to think about what lay on that path before him. But once her penthouse door closed in the Bellagio, Tyche found herself well and truly alone.
It may have been for the best. Asklepios had done much to put her to rights, more than just tending the welts and bruises. The man was downright comforting, in a wholly different sort of way than Anteros' wings had been. She'd needed both. But now she needed a breath to settle herself once and for all.
When she was ready again, she ventured out to Nem's again. Feeling rather guilty now for having so quickly abandoned her, Tyche knocked rather than walked right in (as was her wont to do). She detested the thought that Nemesis may actually have taken offense, detested it for more than one reason. It had been hard enough to admit to Anteros what had happened. Asklepios, mercifully, had not asked. But to tell Nem... No, she wasn't sure she could manage that at all, despite their near-sisterly bond.
Don't be angry. Don't be angry. She didn't say it aloud, but the words chanted themselves back and forth across the top of her brain. Don't be angry, Nem. Don't be angry.
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