The invitation to meet, right down to the day, hadn’t come as a surprise to Media. To be fair, there was almost nothing in the world which surprised her—an inevitable consequence of who and what she was. And Marijuana’s anniversaries so conveniently coincided, the one right on top of the other, Dave’s death on the same day that the Drug Prince celebrated his relationship with his Opiate. It was all remarkably tidy. There wasn’t anything simpler for Media in scheduling herself back in the city for the little tête-à-tête, lingering after her impromptu get together with Internet himself. A predator’s smile sliced her lips, two strong men in only four days; it was enough to turn a girl’s head. Or, in the case of a goddess whose head turned for no one, enough to make her rather pleased at her prospects in the city.
Sauntering into Paradou, red silk stilettos clicking with deadly precision, Media ignored the looks and the hostess moving to intercept her and simply followed the steady hum of power that beat like the heart of life, that beat like leaves against the insides of a seed, that beat like the drums of a thousand growing hearts and the heat of the fire which consumed all those plants in offering to their god. The hostess trailed after the goddess, frozen in mid-speech and helplessly out classed in a knock off designer dress while Media waltzed past silent tables in black Alexander McQueen. She paused long enough for Marijuana’s waiter to pull the chair out for her and dismissed the mortals simply, by focusing her attention entirely on Marijuana. The private, predator smile had slipped and been replaced by a much warmer, inviting grin; she had spent centuries manipulating the surfaces of things, and her surface was as pleasing as a man could dream of and deceived with ease. “My dearest, Drug Prince, it was so lovely to hear from you. And on your anniversary, as well; you’ll make a girl blush with such sweet attentions,” a glint in her eye made it a joke as the corners of her mouth twitched again. “How is your husband, dearest? He’s been so terribly quiet,” the predator peek out in her eyes, behind the sparkle and the warmth, there was the abyss edging with famished splendor. “And you? How have you been this past month, my lord?” Delicately, she reached out to touch his wrist in a show of concern.