| Tie a Ribbon [narrative/open] |
[21 Dec 2008|11:51am] |
"Sit still," Enyo chided, sitting at her vanity with a brush in hand. On the table, a lay of various ribbons in different colors, materials and widths. The brush moved deftly through the mound of ginger curls, one stroke separating the curls into a mass of unruly strands, the next stroke reassembling them.
War was lonely, she'd finally admitted it to herself. Being stuck mostly alone in Bucharest was having a bizarre effect on her. Hours upon hours she would spend sitting in a chair, sipping on wine or spirits, the latter generally without the taint of a mixer, and just think on things. Apollo hadn't returned and likely wouldn't. Her half-brother had been full of it. ( He would leave her there, stranded and alone. )
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| Reversal of Fortune (tag: Nephthys) |
[21 Dec 2008|03:19pm] |
Once he was finished appropriately greeting Bast, Anubis was in high spirits. He almost always left his adopted sister’s side in a good mood. With Isis raising them both together, they were probably closer than they would have been if they had been born of the same parents. Sometimes, he wished they did share her parents. Regardless of bloodlines, however, Bast was his sister and he couldn’t be happier about it. Even when she tickled him.
( Leaving the crazy cat )
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| Formulation [open] |
[21 Dec 2008|08:46pm] |
Winter had descended on most of the western world and descended with a vengeance. Even before the official first day of winter, the solstice, winter attacked North America from Seattle to Quebec to Las Vegas. The snow accumulation set records in most locales and Skadhi was quite pleased with this. Not as content as she could have been, but as happy as she was going to get while Loki was about and free.
She stomped through the wilds of International Falls, Minnesota in her trusted, worn snowshoes. Long white coat that ended right before her knees contrasted the black of her boots, gloves and hat. The snow was perfect, the temperature at a comfortable -15 degrees and the wind harsher than most would tolerate. ( But to one of jotun stock, born of the frost giants, this was nothing. )
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