| A Gift with Love... and Agenda [tag: Thor] |
[18 Feb 2008|08:21am] |
"A charming fellow..."
Frigg's mind was absolutely boggled. There were words that never were used to describe her half-brother; words that no one familiar with the definition of it and with having met Thor, would pair together. Charming was the first in a long list. Dashing, cunning, sly, regal, lovely.... Not a single one should ever, or had ever, been used to describe the Thunderer in any form other than jest. Thor was likable, but the preceding descriptors made Frigg think fairy tales and the whole 'knight in shining armor' thing.
As it was, with Thor, it was far more like a Viking in a shining chariot pulled by his noble... ruminants. There was nothing 'charming' or 'dashing' about a chariot pulled by goats; no matter the man guiding them. There also was nothing all that... alluring in the classical sense, of a brute of a man who always ate far more than his share, drank more than a fish and belched with a ferocity enough to shake the heavens. The latter being one of her first memories of Thor.
She had been but a teenager when Odin came to her mother; not yet woman enough to seek her own husband, but not child enough for Odin to adopt her as his own. Which, considering who won out in the marital area; Frigg outshined her mother, Jord, quickly. The Lady of Asgar's only negative memory of baby Thor releasing their mother's breast to rattle the walls of their hall with his belch was that the vile Trickster had already woven his way into Odin's life.
Disgusting it was to her that Loki was around before, and often more important to Odin, than she.
It wasn't to Bilskirnir Frigg went. Sif had asked that the Queen not mention her arrival, as peculiar as that was, so it would be to Valhalla she would call him. Ironic that both the last time she had seen her brother and the first time upon his return took place in Odin's hall of fallen heroes. "Brother," she called sweetly with a large bundle in her delicate arms. "Do not keep me waiting or my maidens and I shall think you do not want our gift."
As long as the years had gone, not a single one had passed where the sons of Odin did not receive a Fensalir-made sweater. Usually something gifted over the solstice, Thor had simply not been around. It never mattered to Frigg what any thought of her and her maidens crafts, just that she knew they were made and given with nothing but love for the receiver. Well, almost nothing but love. If Frigg was delivering gifts off season, alone and away from personal halls... it could be assumed she was out for information. It was her way.
And really, who described Thor as charming?
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| Cursed Feelings (Iris) |
[18 Feb 2008|10:41am] |
The return to the mountain had been slow. Thought out. Alathea was in no rush now, her duty had been filled. She'd sent Prometheus to Zeus. But it was unnerving. What her father had told her. He was going. What did he mean? Going away? Back to sleep as many have done over the years? Was he leaving the mountain for the mortals as she did? Or did he mean.. Going away going away. Dying. Was something going to happen? She couldn't shake it. He said he was going, he said he didn't know when he'd be back. He hadn't even opened the door to look at her, what did that mean?
It was hard when you couldn't get all the answers. No questions would have laid the truth before her. She couldn't know. It bothered her. Sometimes Prometheus was the only friend she had. It felt like one of those times again. He would have said something if he knew she was smoking. She didn't do it often. But she was now. It made her nervous. It made her sick. If she could have avoided emotions she would have, stupid things that they were. She never cried and she had been. She didn't want to lose him again.
Was that selfish?
It was too bright on Olympus. It burned her eyes. Alathea had long since stopped crying, and her eyes were clear now, but it burned all the same. Everything about today felt wrong. She felt like she should have been with him when he went to Zeus. She wanted to know what the Titan and the King would speak of. She wasn't going to run there now though. Not with what he said. She feared emotion as much as she feared not knowing the truth about something. And that was a lot. She'd feel useless. She'd be useless. Women were weak in that their emotions could very well rule them. It was the truth, after all.
Had he brought up Shamash in order to open the flood gates? Catch her off guard? Alathea closed her eyes and took a deep breath. No. Of course not.
When she opened them she saw someone from the corner of her eye and turned, the cigarette fell from her fingers, found the ground and was crushed under her shoe. Who she turned to, Alathea was glad to see. "Iris." Alathea inclined her head to the Messenger of Hera. "Has it been busy for you?"
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| Tea Time [Persephone] |
[18 Feb 2008|01:46pm] |
She supposed morning tea at Harrods was a better place to meet the Greek queen than in her own realm. Midgard was on neutral ground, so the Norse queen needn’t be worried about being seen as an ally of the Greek Underworld in their war. It was a war between gods, rather than the dead. She had toyed with the idea of invasion, but realized the addition of foreign troops to her army would pose a problem to her insular, original soldiers. Not to mention, no kingdom ever fell completely. The dead weren’t dumb, and would refuse to obey a foreigner.
This was why this meeting was a personal one and maybe a friendly one, even. Hel could tolerate Persephone – maybe even like her. They had a few things in common, such as similar positions and troublesome husbands (in Hel’s case, an ex-husband). There also was Lethe, but Hel decided that was a fish that didn’t need to be cooked by her. Cocytus was the fish she needed to cook, though he had wisely fallen off the face of the Earth.
Hel had booked two couches side by side, and there was an Ottoman with a stack of British fashion magazines for her to read as she waited for Persephone to arrive. The girls waited in the wings, ready to give them massages if required and serve the famous English morning tea. A massage was a nice thing to have, apparently. Hel had never had one, even though some of her subjects had offered to give her one. They changed their minds when they realized how difficult it was to massage rotting flesh that would rip off the bone if steady, rolling pressure was applied to it. The queens needed privacy to speak however, so that could come later.
When Persephone arrived, the staff brought out various white teapots and cups along with trays laden with various types of scones and biscuits. They set it down on a table between the two couches, and ushered Persephone to the other couch. Hel sat up when she arrived, and greeted her with a somewhat genuine smile. “Morning… It is nice to see you again. How do you like your tea?” She figured it was proper of her to serve it as she had given the invitation to Persephone in the first place.
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| New Rules for an Old Game (tag: Loki) |
[18 Feb 2008|05:13pm] |
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How long had it been? Sigyn tried to count the years, but there had been far, far too many between the last time she and Loki had been to this place, and this moment where she stood looking at the entrance. It was somewhat amazing that so little had changed, but that was probably due in large part to it’s inaccessibility. Loki had chosen this spot well, this small cave where they used to hold their private meetings. It was so well hidden that not even time had been able to locate it. ( Well, not too much anyway )
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| lost time (makaria) |
[18 Feb 2008|10:27pm] |
The last thing he'd said was let's get out of here. The last thing that happened, before that, was a kiss.
They'd gotten out of there. Makaria had gotten up from the table, laced her fingers through his, and they went.
( Morpheus could get used to this. )
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