Ερις

                 -- warscasualty ;;

                 Long, brittle nails tapped against marble, the fallen columns of a RUINED temple all but unappealing to the raven-haired deity. Her skin was sallow with that sickly, olive tone, her eyes as green as emeralds entrapped within their wells. She liked the way that stone felt beneath her fingers. The way its TEXTURE brushed against nerve and was chilly and somehow warm. But there was that bitterness in her tone, that shallow HATRED of everything she touched. Of course, it wasn't true. And yet it was. It was true and false and meaningless and-- 

                 ❛  I was staring to wonder where you got off to.  ❜

NEEDS A THERAPIST?.

                   Mm, right. As if anyone would willingly surround themselves with a crown of painfully moronic sods. It didn't matter what they were; immortals, mortals, animals or something in between. There was only so MUCH stupidity that Eris could take, and she  s u s p e c t e d  the same of him. They were blood, after-all. Something dark and unpleasant and sticky and WRONG. Yet oh-so necessary.

                       ❛  How long you going tell yourself that before you crack?  ❜

MORGANA.

            ❛ So they say. ❜  said Eris, voice monotonous and stale,  ❛ They say that Athens was named for the the Goddess Athena's charity, granting to them fertile land to grow their grapes and olives and feed their folk... Some find eager parallels between she and one of the Morrigan. ❜

                  Fingers rubbed against the palm of her hand, long nails scaping the dead skin before finding the rim of that shiny, silver chalice. She sloshed the red liquid about, eyeing the barrel nearby for the quality of its make. Yes, she  k n e w  of her abilities, of the way she treated the Gods with RESPECT-- as they should have been. Forgotten for far too long, left in the shadows of the new, monotheistic religion.

                    ❛ You have no idea... ❜

         ❛ SORRY to disappoint you. I know how terrible it must be to be spared Aphrodite's company. But I'm sure she's been pulled away by some IDIOT for-- well, I'll let you use your imagination. ❜

JANIE.

                ❛ Oh, well, thanks for that little BOOST to my ego. I always love thinking about how fucking OLD I am, Jane. But, let's see... my first name was Tiamat, and that was ten...thousand years ago? Fifteen. Yeah... that sounds right. ❜

thehighpriestessx.

           ❛ Wine, if you have it. I like to INDULGE... ❜

              Morgana-- yes, she knew the name. The very same as any who could claim to know the name Uther, Arthur or the barbarians of northern Albion. Eris seated herself cautiously, looking over the beauty shown painted on the face of a would-be Queen. Mortal, unlike SHE. But oh-so interesting, oh-so promising, for so FEW now could use the gifts offered by the Gods themselves...

                ❛ I tend to take interest in those who have... unique qualities, so to speak. ❜

motherofasgard.

       ❛ Many are WRONG, then, aren’t they?                 Fortunately, we were actually BORN there...❜

             Green eyes searched the Queen’s own, lips forming a small frown. They were well-shaped with a pretty, purple-painted cupid’s bow. Perhaps the only thing that could detract from the dark circles of sunken eyes.

                  ❛ Happy endings and nightmares.... That's a little cliche, don't you think? What about the people who were considered evil? Do you think they got their own ending, something they deserved? It's not like it matters-- nothing does, not really. ❜

           ❛ Thor... mm. You know, when humanity speaks of you, they paint a VIVID picture of a stout man with red hair. More dwarf-like in their tales, able to forge as well as those that live under the mountain. I have to say, I think I like you better this way. ❜

JANIE.

                   ❛ M.O.? You forget, I'm still new to these abbreviations. But I'm learning. I can be 'banging' and 'awesome-sauce' and whatever else I'm supposed to be saying now. Or is the last one still too 2012? I never know with you people, anymore. ❜

atcrimsonpeak.

                   Quiet. She was quiet amidst the flames and bookcases and pretty, little bobbles. She'd let herself in with a few telepathic twists and turns of the mind, a mere sihlouette among the ghosts. Part of her felt at home in the things that were DEAD, with the things that went 'bump' in the night. But she looked for something more, looked for something  r e a l. The sound of a beating heart was that very real thing. A caretaker, a patron, a host. Who knew?

                   ❛ Your home is beautiful. ❜ Her lips were pursed into a fine line, eyes sunken and tired. ❛ And you play host to many things, it seems. Surely you have room for one more? ❜

JANIE

             ❛  Wow. I almost feel sorry for you. You WILLINGLY subject yourself to that every day? And here I thought you were a vampire lover. What's that saying?? ‘My bad’. Still, I’m not sure how that works anymore. Did you suddenly beef up on Vitamin D?  ❜  

             All these people out tonight and of COURSE company would find her. There were dozens of couples, teenagers, even the elderly walking hand in hand. What made her stand out from the rest? Just a pale girl with sunken eyes sitting alone on a park bench, unbothered by the snow. Or so most would think, and that’s exactly how it needed to stay. ❛  I'm really not the best company. ❜  

JANIE.

       ❛  Okay, then. So, just so we're CLEAR, you spend how many hours a day outside, exactly?  ❜