It was hardly a surprise that Hathor had four parties lined up for tonight. Hathor- Queen of the Dance, The Mistress of Inebriety Without End, The One Who Fills the Sanctuary with Joy- always wanted to get as much party into any night as was humanly (or goddessly) possible.
But for now she was at Fern's, dressed in yellow, with lapis earrings and a matching pendant dangling between her breasts.
Hathor had been leaning across a bench to reach for a drink when she heard Lyra's voice, and she turned with a warm smile for the young woman. "Lyra, your hair looks gorgeous tonight!" She swept Lyra into a hug. (Hathor's hugs were all-encompassing, something between the safe warmth of adoring mother you hadn't seen in months and the pure connection of the drunk girl you'd just met in the bathroom who told you you were too good for your shitty boyfriend.)