| Shake it off [Anteros] |
[23 Nov 2008|09:47pm] |
Morpheus was right, of course. Giving half of Londontown dreams filled with heartbreak and loss was no way of comporting oneself. He was right to call her on it. When the night was through, Nanshe determined that she would do her best to get herself out of the wretched state she'd worked herself into. It was two in the morning. She needed somewhere to go, and something to do, and she would not find it in London. She wouldn't find it on this continent.
An hour later, she was freshly-bathed, freshly-perfumed, and freshly-garbed for an evening out. She thought briefly of inviting Morpheus along with her, but... it didn't seem right, asking out another goddess' love. Besides, if she invited no one and she wasn't able to do this, that would mean that no one would see her fail. There was an appeal in that.
There was hardly no appeal in going to California alone, however. She did it anyway. And here, the sun had only just set a few hours back. Here, it was 7 PM, and the night was young, and the restaurants were packed.
She wasn't exactly certain where she was -- only that the smell of steak and sound of socializing was drifting in the air between palm trees and daisies on the street. Nanshe edged up to the great glass door of one of the restaurants, her warm wrap blowing in the damp air, and peered inside. There was another set of doors just past the ones she stood at, and two men in bowties and black jackets swept forward toward the ones she stood at. She had just enough time to stand back before they smoothly drew the door open...
"Oh, no, no," she said quickly, "I'm... I'm waiting for... I'm sorry to have..."
She shrugged helplessly, backed up, and fled. Somewhere down the street, she slowed her steps again, and began chiding herself. "Table for one. How hard is that to say? Table for one. Table for one."
They had never gone to dinner together, she realized suddenly, and the realization threatened to crack her thin veneer of calmness. How many other things had they not done together, she and Utu, before he found it necessary to slide outside her grasp? Or did she push him away? What had she done to push him away? Was it her fault?
Nanshe didn't know how she ended up sitting on a bench just outside another terribly expensive-looking restaurant. But somehow, suddenly, there she was, twisting the ends of her scarf over and over in her hands. It could have been her fault. She'd never really known how to hold onto anything when it tried to pull away. Was that her fault, too? Should she have known to hold onto Utu? It was so hard to guess, and impossible to tell for certain.
So deeply engrossed in her thoughts she was, that she missed the shadow in the lamplight that threw itself over her.
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