| Wicked Games [Anansi] |
[14 Jul 2008|12:52pm] |
Nothing cured a wounded self-esteem better than a few drinks and a night out on the town.
A few drinks made even the ugliest hag attractive, so Hel was confident her not-so-perfect façade would be given a decent praising from drunken, attractive males. It had been a while since she had done this, in fact it’s been a while since she had left her keep in Nifleheim. After those comments from the sniveling weasel of a god, Hel decided she needed time to ‘recoup’, lest she bring on Ragnarok on the world without Odin and her father. She punched out the mirrors in her castle, and forbade her servants from polishing the silverware so she wouldn’t be able to see her own reflection when she ate. She became preoccupied with torturing her prisoners, particularly those that were beautiful in order to extract ‘praises’ from them, though it also felt good to just do that.
Balder was the only one with the guts to tell her that she was proving nothing by collecting compliments from those she ruled.
Those words sank in as she watched her most-honored guest try to find his way out of an elaborate maze she had built in one of her courtyards. As he found dead-end after dead-end, he would call her a ‘monster’ and laugh at her previous attempts to make him her’s. Angered, the goddess sealed off all the exits and vowed to keep it that way until Ragnarok.
The opinion of her subjects didn’t matter as much as the opinion of those who weren’t. This was why she was drawn back to Midgard again to play something she wasn’t – a beautiful, young and successful professional on the prowl.
These mortal men were definitely more attractive than Cocytus. Dolos? Hah! She wasn’t attracted to him anyway, though his words somehow cut hard enough. In terms of difficulty? Incredibly easy. A few punches had been thrown already, and her self-confidence was stronger than ever. In fact, she was starting to yearn for something more than just cute men – she wanted powerful men.
This one seemed particularly powerful, even though he lacked a dominating physical presence. He was small in stature, but there was a sense of ‘power’ about him…. as she got closer, she could tell what sort of power it was – divine. She slid into the spot between the gentleman and a heavily-drugged, heavily made-up female and gracefully placed her hand on the counter. The queen greeted him with a smile, which she hoped was dazzlingly cute or pretty.
“Hello there… may I buy you a drink?”
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