Who: Media and National Security What: A goddess of communication goes to keep company with a god of secrecy, and perhaps provide some comfort. Where: National Security’s office When: September 10, 2002 Rating: TBD
It hadn’t been nearly long enough. Media looked out of the cab windows at the changed skyline with a sad smile. He was blaming himself. She could feel it and knew what that was going to mean for her. This time last year, all that had mattered were back to school sales and fall fashion lines; television line-ups and movie returns; bestseller lists and museum displays. Now, she could feel the changed atmosphere in the city. The town car rolled to a stop and the driver assisted her out but she drew the line at being helped with her bags.
Expending a subtle energy to keep mortals away, Media neatly avoided metal detectors and security guards on her way up to see National Security. The sadness reflected back at her from the polished elevator doors looked like an accusation. Media was never sad; emotions were for lesser beings. But there was no denying the darkness in here eyes or the slump in her shoulders. She genuinely hurt and that was profoundly unsettling. Made worse by uncertainty; the pain wasn’t for the city, she knew that. New York was just another base for her operations. It didn’t matter more or less than Los Angeles or Seattle or Chicago – or any of the myriad of cities in the United States. One or a dozen could fall and she would move on to the next. But the other God causing her pain was even more frightening. She couldn’t quite convince herself that it was work related.
Oh, they were going to work together. National Security needed her and she – she was going to give him as much as she could. And just why? Media shied away from examining her motives. It could be as simple as avoiding a fight she might not win. Once, she would have said she was the stronger by far but after the attacks, well, that changed their power bases. And Media had willingly let herself grow weak; that was frightening.
The elevator doors opened and she ceased the shopping bags, making a concerted effort to put swish to her hips and hold her head high as she strode for his office. A shared sorrow could put him at ease. She let the sorrow stay, even permitted vulnerability to cling to her as becomingly as the red button down shirt and black pencil skirt. Femininity worked on gods and men alike. And as for the rest, well, she focused on the task at hand.
“Sweetling?” Media leaned against the doorframe, peering into his office with a bit more worry showing than she had planned. “I brought provisions, may I come in?”