Danvers

A Song of Ice and Fire - the Blackfyre Rebellion

Nyla

Name: Nyla Martell

Age: 19 (born 183AC)

Appearance:

Dark of locks and amber of eyes, Nyla looks every bit a Martell. No longer living in Dorne, her skin is paler than it used to be but easily adopts an olive tone when exposed to the sun. She likes to take the latest in courtly fashion and make it more...salty, as she puts it. This usually involves making something more revealing or easier to manouvere in, and often lands her in trouble. Extremely unpredictable in both manner and appearance, one moment she will happily be wearing one of her many fine dresses, and the next she will have it covered in dirt & dust. Lithe in frame, Nyla seems to have an ability to hide in spaces that she should not be able to and is fairly agile by nature. And though pretty of face, the permanant mischevious smile she dons has a tendency to ruin this for some.

Description & biography:

Nyla is said to be the younger sister of Maron and Myriah Martell. In reality, she is the illegitimate daughter of Maron. But the prince was unwilling to give her the Sand surname and wishing for her to live life free of the chains of Bastardy, it was instead proclaimed that she was but a sibling. She has never known the identity of her mother, though she likes to fantasise. Perhaps she was a Dothraki or a traveller from far away lands. Perhaps she was from one of the other great families in Westeros. Or perhaps, a perhaps she likes to ignore, she was simply another whore. Someone to be easily forgotten and ignored.

Her early years were spent in Sunspear. As a Martell she was doted upon and had want for nothing. She particularly had a fondness for the sand steeds and quickly became a proficient rider. But she was a tempestuous child, prone to changes in mood as quickly as a sandstorm may appear. Sometimes gentle, sometimes ferocious, Dorne only served to enhance these attributes. She would oft go missing, sneaking off to the bazaars of the shadow city or to steal fruit from one of the many blood orange groves, she saw no reason that she could not do exactly as she wished. But Maron heard of her mischief and when she was but 8 years old, demanded that she became a ward of the royal family, lest she learn some manners. This did not sit well with the young girl who frequently tried to run away in those early days, once even managing to persuade a merchant to allow her aboard his ship, and would likely have gotten to Pentos if she had not been found.

Though she resisted, courtly life did have its benefits, and Nyla was able to see much of Westeros, spending her time between King's Landing, Dragonstone and Summerhall, to name a few. She liked to listen in on meetings and would be apt to sit under tables until she was dragged out of the room. And though she would be loathe to admit it, she was drawn towards politics and its tangled web, watching the events unfold in awe...if from afar. The Targaryens both scared and bored her, and she could never decide if she liked them or not, so different were they from the Dornish people. She would tease as far as she was allowed, but usually saved her mischevious nature for others.

It was rumoured that her brother intended for her to marry a Targaryen as he and his sister had before. But so far no such plotting has been seen and Nyla has repeatedly insisted that she would rather marry a hog than a Targaryen.

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

The Morrigan, goddess of destiny, death & battle

P h a n t o m q u e e n
_{M o r r i g a n. 
M o r r i g a n.}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

	Blanca Soler | #efebf0 ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ Nightmare 'Phantom' Queen Queen of the slain War-fury Morrigu; goddess of battle Macha; goddess of sovereignty Badb; goddess of prophecy ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ Death, destiny, battle ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Celtic 🔮

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 🔮 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓶𝔂𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓮𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴}}

████████████

 F O R E S I G H T
F O R E S I G H T

^{Once the Morrigan had a wealth of powers. Shapeshifter, war-fury, prophetess. She was birth, life and death. Now a tripartite goddess no more, only remnants of Badb remained after the fall, Morrigu and Macha seemingly lost to her forever. By touching a person, be it mortal or god, or an item that is or was very precious to them, can Morrigan gain a glimpse into their future. No longer does she see the full truth but fragments of it, like shreds of a torn up pictures, the rest scattered to the winds. These give her hints as to what the persons future holds and it is up to the goddess what she decides to do with this information.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 🔮 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{𝓝𝓸 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝔂𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮, 𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷 𝓫𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴}}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Cunning & Persistent Refined & Erudite Beguiling & Persuasive⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Cold & Calculating Ruthless & Deceptive Cruel & Manipulative ⌟

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Madison Saint'clair ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ 26 ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ Bisexual, female, she/her ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Investment Banker at JP Morgan Socialite

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 🔮 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓪𝓿𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭}}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ 🔮 Tripartite in nature, The Morrigan was the goddess of death, destiny and battle. She was the keeper of fate and a purveyor of prophecy. Her role was to appear before battles, offering prophecy and favour to gods and mortals alike...for a price. A cunning shapeshifter,she could take many forms including a raven to fly over the battlefield & feed of corpses, a beautiful woman to seduce powerful men, a fierce warrior-queen and an old crone. Her presence was seen as a terrifying omen of death to many. Yet wars for her and the Irish were played out sword to sword - in the skill of a fighter against an opponent, in the cleverness of the cattle raid, in courage and skill and the will to win. Born the daughter of the goddess & sorceress Ernmas and Delbaeth, one of the kings of the Gods, Morrigan had three sisters named Ériu, Banba and Fódla. Her family were members of the Tuatha Dé Danann, a tribe of magical people, whose arrival to Ireland was met with resistance by many, including the Firbolg and the Fomorions. They quickly found themselves at war with the Firbolg, leading to fierce and bloody battles. Morrigan and her sisters aided in the first Battle of Moytura by casting magical spells, with victory being theirs. In their second battle against the Fomorisons, Dagda came to her by the ford of the river, after which she prophesised that their tribe would indeed win the battle but at the cost of great bloodshed. On the day of the battle the gods gathered, and when asked what skills she possessed, replied with “What I shall follow I shall hunt.” The battle quickly turned into a bloodbath and ended when the Morrigan incited bloodlust with her cries to her tribe. The Fomorions fled from her and perished in the sea. And the rest...well you'll have to ask those that were unfortunate enough to stumble across the goddess. She recommends speaking to the handsome Cú Chulainn personally... ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ 🔮 After the fall, The Morrigan woke like the others. Her shapeshifting abilities gone, she was stuck in her true form, that of a young woman. Enraged by such a descent, she lashed out, hurting any mortals in her path, putting all of her rage into battle. Though not the powerful goddess she once was, the damage she could cause was still immense. Morrigu bathed in the blood of the slain but she was never satisfied. The only thing that would ease her fury was to destroy the one who had done this to her. It was her all and she would not stop. She would find them, she would destroy them, she would... Morrigu, at the height of her rage, disappeared. As had Matcha, now only Badb remained. Goddess of prophecy, her counterparts seemingly gone, leaving only the cold, manipulative, careful Badb. Thankfully she was still gifted with the sight but it was now severely limited. It took time to understand the fragments of visions she saw but she found she could use these to her advantage, if she was patient. She could see future affairs, the downfall of companies, even sometimes imminent murders. With this she could either blackmail or aid, as she had done many a time before the fall, and slowly the goddess was able to work her way up in aristocratic societies throughout Europe. Eventually she was by the side of generals, admirals, warmongers, and it could be said that she has been at the heart of some of Europes bloodiest conflicts. Despite the influence it wrought, aricrostatic society was still often dull and tedious. She attended balls, garden parties, weddings & funerals. All so tedious and droll. She married once, though the fool accidentally and tragically fell from his balcony only weeks after they tied the knot and Morrigan sadly had to inherit his immense amounts of wealth. It was a difficult burden to bear but the goddess helped in managing his several estates, as well as his stocks in the East India Trading company. With the downfall of empires, it became quickly evident that such companies were the future. That monarchies and governments were to fall on their knees. And so Morrigan stepped out of the path of the rich and bored, her influence and intelligence easily landing her a place at Harvard (and later MIT and Cambridge) where she acquired an impressive education. Of course, Morrigan still found herself in the laps of the stupidly wealthy during these times and her games could continue. Her foresight lead her to the stock market, where she was able to predict the direction of the trends. Sometimes she would use it to help others make money and sometimes she would use it to financially bankrupt them. It all depended on her mood that day. Finally, after tiring of college life, she landed herself a job as an investment banker at JP Morgan, where she has been working for the past 5 years. Alongside this she has been enjoying life as a socialite in New York city. Constantly surrounded by the rich and powerful, the Morrigan now whispers into the ears of those with the capabilities to make big changes. Whether that be for good or bad. Any drama in New York is likely her doing, and Madison Saint'clair is infamous throughout the city. Recently however, Morrigan has began to lose the control that she has so carefully maintained. Parts of her have begun to seep out, Morrigu and Matcha returning once more. Badb and Matcha she could manage, the former cold & aloof, the latter honest & optimistic, but Morrigu... Morrigu was not happy. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ 🔮 Morrigu wishes to destroy the one who robbed her of her powers and forced her to live amongst mortals. Oh, and Morrigu would also like to point out that she does not care what Macha or Badb want. ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ 🔮 Losing control.

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

Eros, god of love

g o d o͏ f͏ l o v e
_{e r o s. 
e r o s.}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

	Jude Law | #FF446E ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ Eros; Ἔρως Cupid Amor ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ Love, desire, lust & sex ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Greek 💘

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 💘 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓌𝓉𝓎'𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝓂𝑒𝓁𝑜𝒹𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝓀𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝑜𝓊𝓉}}

████████████

 A M O R E
A M O R E

^{Once the winged god had a bow and two sets of arrows. Gold to kindle love in the heart they wounded and the other heavy with lead to create an aversion & hate. He could inspire desire or loathing in any who he targeted, and often he would shoot with his eyes closed, so that fate would instead choose who was hit. But these were lost to him during the fall. Still can he inspire lust and love in mortals and gods alike, but now he must harm himself to be able to produce these feelings in others. A fleeting moment of lust may require only a few drops of blood, whereas an eternal, true love, well Eros has only tried this but once and the harm he must cause himself is immense, taking much time & energy to recover from. So much so that it is not something he would dare to try, unless he had a true reason to.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 💘 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃}}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Energetic & Magnetic Articulate & Warm Protective & Affectionate⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Contradictory & Mischevious Hedonistic & Impulsive Avoidant & Self-serving ⌟

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Elijah 'Eli' Anderson ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ 34 ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ Yes all of the sex please, male, he/him ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Owner and Manager of Eden; if you know you know

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 💘 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{𝒮𝑜 𝐼'𝓂 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝑔𝑜𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒹𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝐼 𝒹𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊}}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ 💘 Eros, like many many others, is the child born of the genius combination of Ares and Aphrodite. As one of the Erotes, he held power over love, lust, desire and sex. A lot to be getting on with really. There are many stories of mischief and trouble making, but the best story of all involves the god himself falling in love. Oh wait, Eros wants to tell you this part... "𝑀𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓇𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹. 𝒩𝑜𝓌 𝐼 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝓌𝑜; 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝒹, 𝑜𝓃𝑒...𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝒹. 𝒜 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓈𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒾𝓃𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒿𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝒹𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓈... 𝒪𝓃𝒸𝑒, 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝒶 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈. 𝒩𝑜𝓌 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒹𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑒, 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒶𝓁𝓁. 𝒮𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒶𝒷𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒜𝓅𝒽𝓇𝑜𝒹𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓁, 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒷𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇, 𝓅𝓊𝓃𝒸𝒽 𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝒷𝒾𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝒹, 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓌 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹...𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌...𝒹𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝓇 𝑒𝒶𝑔𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓉. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓃 𝑜𝓃 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉. 𝒟𝑒𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝑔𝓃𝑜𝓇𝑒𝒹. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓈. 𝐼𝓉'𝓈 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝓌𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒, 𝓉𝑜𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝑒𝓂𝒷𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈. 𝒜𝓃𝓎𝓌𝒶𝓎, 𝓂𝓎 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒜𝓅𝒽𝓇𝑜𝒹𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝓊𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒿𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑒. 𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒹𝑜 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝒶𝓁𝓁. 𝒮𝑜, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝑔𝑒𝓉𝓈 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹...𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒹𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝐸𝓇𝑜𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅 𝓈𝑜𝓁𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓂𝓈. 𝐸𝓇𝑜𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝑔𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝓃 𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒽 (𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓈𝒽 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝑔𝑜𝒹𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓇 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓈𝑒). 𝒮𝑜, 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈, 𝐸𝓇𝑜𝓈 𝒻𝓁𝑒𝓌 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓌 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈. 𝒩𝑜𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓌 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒶𝒻𝒶𝓇, 𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝓊𝓉𝓉 𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒, 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒹𝓂𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑒𝒹𝓁𝓎 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓇𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉. 𝒮𝑜, 𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓌 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹, 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓅𝓉 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝑒𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝒹, 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒶 𝓅𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓁. 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃... 𝒪𝑜𝓅𝓈. 𝒴𝑒𝓈, 𝐼 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝒷𝒷𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝓎𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓌. 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝒹𝓊𝓂𝒷 𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓎, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒹𝑒𝒻𝑒𝓃𝓈𝑒, 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒹𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝐼𝓉'𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝓊𝓁𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝑜 𝑔𝑜𝒹 𝒹𝒶𝓂𝓃 𝑔𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝑜𝓊𝓈. 𝒮𝑜, 𝒶𝓈 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐸𝓇𝑜𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝒷𝒷𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓂𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓌, 𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓊𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓁 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈. 𝐻𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝑔𝓃𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁, 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝓃'𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓂𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒'𝒹 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒. 𝒮𝓊𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓉'𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝑔𝓃𝑜𝓇𝑒... 𝒮𝓅𝑜𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓇. 𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉. 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝐸𝓇𝑜𝓈, 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎, 𝓃𝑜-𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁 (𝒾𝒹𝒾𝑜𝓉𝓈), 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝒾𝒻 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒. 𝒮𝑜 𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻...𝒹𝒾𝒹. 𝐼𝓉'𝓈 𝒶 𝒷𝒾𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝒹, 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒶𝓁𝓁, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝒹 (𝒷𝒾𝑔 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝒹). 𝒩𝑜𝓌 𝐸𝓇𝑜𝓈' 𝓅𝒶𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁, 𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓋𝒶𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒻𝒻. 𝒜𝓌𝑒𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒, 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝐸𝓇𝑜𝓈 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓂, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓌𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉, 𝓈𝑜 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈. 𝒯𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓇 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓇𝓊𝒾𝓃 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝐻𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝒹 & 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓁𝓎, 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒, 𝒷𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈. 𝒩𝑜𝓌 𝐸𝓇𝑜𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝓃'𝓉 𝒶 𝓉𝑜𝓉𝒶𝓁 𝒹𝑜𝓊𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒷𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓉𝑒, 𝓈𝑜 𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈...𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓂𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒶𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉. 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓎𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓌𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓁𝓎 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓋𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝓊𝓈𝒷𝒶𝓃𝒹'𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂, 𝒾𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝑒𝓇. 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓉𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒶𝓉 𝐸𝓇𝑜𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝓈𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝓁𝑒𝑒𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝒮𝓃𝑒𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓂 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝒾𝓁 𝓁𝒶𝓂𝓅 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶 𝓀𝓃𝒾𝒻𝑒, 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝓊𝓈𝒷𝒶𝓃𝒹'𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒷𝓊𝓉... 𝒟𝓊𝓃 𝒹𝓊𝓃 𝒹𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓃𝓃𝓃𝓃. 𝒜 𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓅 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝑜𝓉 𝑜𝒾𝓁 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓇, 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝓊𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓂 (𝒾𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉...). 𝐵𝑒𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓎𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝒶 𝓀𝓃𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝒽𝒾𝓂, 𝐸𝓇𝑜𝓈 𝓇𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒜𝓅𝒽𝓇𝑜𝒹𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝑜𝑜𝓇, 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝓇𝑜𝓀𝑒𝓃. 𝒜𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝑔𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹, 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉. 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑒𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒, 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓇𝑒𝒹𝑒𝓂𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃, 𝒜𝓅𝒽𝓇𝑜𝒹𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝑔𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑔𝓇𝓊𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓁𝓈. 𝐿𝓊𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓁𝓎 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅 (𝒾𝓃𝒸𝓁𝓊𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓁𝓎) 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒾𝓃 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒. 𝒮𝒽𝑒'𝓈 𝒶 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑒. 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜, 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓁𝓎 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝒶𝒹𝓈 & 𝓁𝑜𝒶𝒹𝓈 & 𝓁𝑜𝒶𝒹𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝑒𝓍. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝒹. ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ 💘 Eros thought the fall was hilarious. Hilarious and great for him. Yes he didn't have wings now and an endless supply of magical arrows. But there were mortals, so many mortals. Eros isn't going to lie, he spent the first few centuries extremely drunk and extremly fulfilled...if you catch his drift (he had a lot of sex). He's not going to say he wrote the karma sutra but he definitely has done all the moves & more. He even found a way to avoid going to the bore fest that was the gods annual meet up, thanks to his Aunt Hebe. Or that, at least, is the way Eros will spin his tale of events. In reality, Eros woke after the fall to a crushing realisation. The weakening of his powers was immediately apparent to the god and with that, he knew that the magic his arrow had cast upon him, the spell that had initially sent him tumbling head over heels in love with Psyche, had worn off. When he thought of Psyche his heart still fluttered but he was scared, scared that if he saw her again, he would no longer love her. Scared even that Psyche may no longer care for him. So he avoided her, at all costs. For it was better to live in ignorance than to live knowing their hearts were no longer one. Eros had not loved before Psyche and he knew he would not love again. But he needed to distract himself and what better way then surrounded by warm bodies. Now Eros was the god of love but after he had forsaken Psyche (and only after), he found that the only way he could use his powers was by harming himself. Major bummer really. And to create true love or desire, which he had only nurtured once since the fall, required him to cause such grievous bodily harm to himself that he rarely did it. Instead he focused on lust. It was still a literal pain but less so, sometimes only a few drops of blood being needed to inspire lust, especially in mortals, whom were so often weak and ready. Maybe it would have been easier to avoid it all together but Eros had always been prone to mischief and he was unable to resist the temptation. Of course there was also the issue of the festival...for he could not avoid Psyche there. Hebe, though sad about how he was behaving, was unable to deny him when he came to her, puppy dog eyes in full force, begging for her to bring him Ambrosia. Every year she would tell him to speak to Psyche and every year he would come up with another excuse. He knew he was taking advantage of his aunts genuine kindness but whenever he even thought about going to the festival, it felt like he was robbed of air, like he was drowning. No...it was better to avoid it altogether. Eros, although he did not know it, was fighting against a part of himself that he could not deny. For a love god to be so scared of love...or the loss of it, was laughable really. Most of the time he was a bouncing bundle of energy, always present, always wanting to spend time with mortals & gods alike. But just occasionally, he would slip into himself. He heard that mortals called it depression but whatever it was felt like torture. He would isolate himself, shutting the world out until he felt better again. If they had lasted years, he likely would have refused Ambrosia during these times, but he was lucky that they were fleeting, lasting only weeks or maybe months at worst. After some time living life in this manner, Eros created a company by the name of Eden. Eden set out to create what is best described as a combination of a swingers club and a secret party. Each time the club would be at a different location, only known to those with an invitation (or anyone skilled enough to track it down). Masks were always compulsory, fantasies were fulfilled, and clothing was optional. It was a delicious distraction and for the past 10 years, Eros has immersed himself in his work, and Eden has developed a good reputation for itself...at least in the right circles. So Eros keeps himself busy and is rarely alone, for he does not dare think, lest he realise what he is missing. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ 💘 To have a fuckton of sex and to be reunited with Psyche and for her to still love him ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ 💘 Losing his true love forever

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

Fruitcake, or Jakey as his mother liked to call him, was not a good person. Nor was he known by this nickname for his sweet disposition. He was someone that you would cross the street to avoid or whom you would immediately swipe left to when he popped up on your dating app. He was one of those guys who despite only being 22, knew with 100% certainty that he was absolutely & always correct about everything. And despite only working for the guy for a few weeks, was already fed up with Leif's dumbass rules. Where was the fun in owning a nightclub if you couldn't even hit on the clientele? It wasn't his fault that they liked to play hard to get. So after one too many beers, Fruitcake had made his way to the Jade Jaguar, home of what were undeniably the hottest chicks in the city. Strolling through the doors, he didn't bother to wait for Smokey, who was chain smoking what must've been his 80th roll up of the day.

"Try not to be an asshole Fruitcake." The older man grunted over his shoulder as he exhaled a slow puff of tar & nicotine. Leif had told him to keep an eye on the younger thief, who had only been taken on because of his ability to get through any window, no matter how high or secure. It was his one redeemable trait. The rest of him being rotten to the core.

"Only if you stop being a pussy!" Fruitcake shot back with a laugh. After he had loaded himself up with another drink, he took a seat in one of the JJs plush chairs, giving him a prime view of the ass & tits on show. He was already fairly buzzed and after a few minutes in this manner, he began to tire of the piss poor dancing. "Oi! Over here!" He yelled to one of the dancers, who had been making her way from one patron to the next. She paused, clearly hesitant to approach the brusque man but eventually made her way over, shooting him a small smile. "How can I help you?"

"You can sit yourself down right here is what you can do." He grumbled, pointing to his lap. Fruitcake was already annoyed that he had seemingly been ignored since he'd arrived in this dive. When she stayed put, blabbing on about how it was against JJ policy for them to make physical contact with the patrons, his brow furrowed in irritation. "Now bitch." He snapped as he grabbed her waist, pulling her down onto his lap, his grip tight about her.

After a few moments, luckily or perhaps unluckily depending on the view, a hand raked roughly through his hair and not one belonging to the young woman struggling in his grasp. The hand viciously yanked the young man’s head back, holding at a strange angle to add extra discomfort as the goddess of many names glared down at this pathetic weasel of a mortal that dared to physically touch and insult one of their dancers. She gave another harsh pull, praying that he lost some hair with the grip she held as she was done, utterly done with the bullshit of others today. She had been nothing but angry and protective all day and apparently, no one in this universe was going to let her rest so why should she try to hold back? Why be nice when it wasn’t working out for her?

Hath had left the hospital disappointed, Ares not rising to the bait and also without listening to her words about how his brat had treated Tlaz. She should have let the morphine wear off first but she had to be nice. Sekh had the right idea but she thought a warning would be fair, clearly not since she had a feeling that child was too much like her father. She had tried to call Tlaz to tell her that she had seen Ares and also give some of the details on the Isa situation but just like the rest of her luck that day, her phone was dead. That meant going back to JJ and hoping that the goddess of sin was still around or at least if not, it would be a distraction from self destruction.

Instead, she was greeted with this fucking pig in her grasp and he was about to received a world of punishment if he didn’t nicely comply and get the fuck out of here because she was almost done with playing nice by providing warnings. A slow smile slipped onto her lips, one that clearly did not reach her eyes as she spoke in a deadly cold tone, ”You get two options, so listen carefully as I will not repeat myself. First option, you have three seconds to remove your hand, get up, and walk out of this club without causing an incident. Option two, which I would just love for you to try…you ignore my generous request and I break your hand, yank you up, maybe get a few hits in while you struggle, and drag you out by your hair to dispose of the garbage since you are pretty much nothing but filth that I wish not to have in my presence. Now, which will it be?”

Fruitcake was also an idiot. At Hath’s words the mortal, despite the extremely uncomfortable position he had been placed in, let out a bitter laugh before spitting violently in her direction. "I'm not going to have some floozie tell me what to do." He grunted, pain flooding through his head and neck. "I pay for this shit." He indicated towards the still struggling dancer, who was already far past the verge of tears.

Smokey, who had finally entered the premises, stopped in his tracks when he saw the shit show in front of him. "Oh for fucks sake..." He grumbled as he pulled out his phone, quickly pulling up Leif's number. Why was he always stuck with babysitting the crazy ones? He seriously needed to retire. Still muttering under his breath, the thief quickly typed a message as he side eyed the tussle, which was increasingly drawing the attention of the other patrons & employees.

Bossman

Fruitcakes gone off the rails. Might need you to come down to JJ. The woman looks like she'll break an arm or two so I ain't getting involved. Also can you bring me some smokes...I ran out.

Her nose scrunched at the pathetic attempt to spit at her but it also made her decide to alter her plans ever so slightly. ”Option two it is! Just remember, you were warned. Now, let’s fix that spitting problem of yours.”, she said in a sickeningly sweet tone before tilting his head at a good angle before full force repeatedly punching him in the side of the jaw with her free hand and waiting for a crack to be heard. She didn’t care if it was fractured, broken, or dislocated but it would be painful, slow, and best of all…less likely to make spitting possible until healed. Hathor showed no mercy, not even giving the lad much time to recover before her hand found his fingers wrapped around the crying woman’s waist, harshly pulling them all the way back and letting them either be removed naturally out of pain or again, fine with it being a symphony of snaps.

Hathor was slowly losing it, not even caring which option had come to be, only knowing that once the woman was released that he was instantly hauled onto his feet. ”You think you can come in here!?! Harass our dancers?! Throw insults!? And then try to spit in my face….I’m giving you a lesson you are never going to forget.”, she growled, punctuating each word with a fist shot to the kidneys and gut. She took hold of his hair once more, kicking out his legs, and doing exactly what she had promised. She strode through the crowd like a model on a runway, literally dragging the man behind her by his hair and kicking backwards with sharp heels when he tried to retaliate.

Smokey could only stand there, mouth hanging wide open in shock at what he had just witnessed, his fellow thief barely being able to moan in pain as his jaw hung half loose. Sure he was accustomed to violence but...damn. Lost in thought, suddenly a hand clapped on his shoulder, prompting him to jump out of his skin. "Fuckin' nearly shat myself you bastard." He muttered as Fenrir stopped beside him, casually tossing him a pouch of tobacco.

"Y'know you should really cut down. I'm not gonna pay for your hospital bills when you're coughing up a lung." The wolf replied pointedly. It wasn't like he'd never smoked himself but Smokey was known for being able to pick anyone's pocket...whilst holding & taking drags from a lit cigarette in his other hand. Fenrir had nearly died from laughter when he'd almost set a target's coat on fire one time.

"But what would you call me then?" Smokey frowned, seeming genuinely confused by this quandary. No-one even knew his real name by this point, it had been so long.

"Oh I don't know. How about...'doesn't stink like my grandma's one hundred year old ashtray.'" Fenrir smirked. The thief let out a loud laugh at this, followed by an extremely unhealthy sounding bout of coughing. Fenrir clapped him on the back, shaking his head. "See, you sound like shit. Anyway, where is the bastard?"

All Smokey could manage was to point in the direction that Fruitcake had been furiously dragged, a series of bewildered mortals being the only indicators that anything had even happened. Oh and the huge ass puddle of blood on the floor. Stepping over said puddle, Fenrir made his way to the back of the building, wondering who had the balls to beat the shit out of Fruitcake. Not that he disapproved. The guy had it coming and the wolf had almost instantly regretted taking him on board. His tread, as always, was silent as he pushed open the door, nose wrinkling at the overwhelming smell of garbage. Though his senses were nowhere near what they once, it didn't mean he wasn't sensitive to some things. Sharp blue eyes locked onto the two figures nearby, one of which was little more than a crumpled mess on the floor, and cleared his throat to let them know of his presence.

Hathor’s attention instantly snapped to the person that dared to interrupt her, eyeing him up and down with a raised brow before crossing her arms. He definitely was handsome but right now, a pretty face wasn’t really going to stop her from snapping at someone who was stopping a good time. ”Do you mind?! I’m currently taking out the trash and placing it where it belongs. Why don’t you find your way back inside or better yet, keep walking pal because there is nothing to see here?!”, she sassed angrily, tapping her foot on the ground. She dealt with more than one asshole today and if another wanted to take a crack at it, then that was no skin off her back.

"Oh he's mine." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, having to try very hard to stop the smile that dared to creep onto his face. Her unwillingness to tolerate any bullshit was admittedly both amusing and attractive. "Well not mine. The little shit just works for me." Cautiously, he took a step closer, not desiring to be on the receiving end of her wrath. As he closed the gap between them, he held a hand out towards her. "Names Leif. And I can only apologize for Fruitcake here. He's a couple of quarters short of a roll..." This prompted a weak groan from the mess of limbs on the ground. "Shut up Fruitcake. You'll lose more blood that way." Fenrir shook his head before turning back to the woman in front of him. "I'd be happy to take him off your hands. I imagine you must be very busy."

She frowned at his statement, about ready to lay into him next as she wondered if he thought this was funny with the nonchalant attitude, that is until the insult. She glanced down at the pitiful being at her feet before watching the newcomer closely, like a predator watching its prey as he slowly took steps closer. Once the gap was closed between them, he offered her his hand and a name which Hath was still debating on whether to accept or not, though it was more tempting with the apology. Hathor didn’t know what he meant at that last comment but she found her hand taking his own but instead of shaking, she yanked him closer and curled her free hand on his collar to pull him in, wanting to make sure she had his full attention. ”Keep your dogs on a tighter leash or you and I are going to have problems. Got it?”, Hathor said barely above a whisper before letting go of him and brushing off the imaginary lint from her dress. ”Deal with the mess if you must, Leif. I have a bar to tend to and now a few drinks to nurse.”, she sighed, moving to stride past him.

Fenrir held out an arm to block her way. "Come on. Let me buy you one of those drinks. It's the least I can do." He was intrigued by this woman, whom he couldn't help but feel a vague familiarity towards, though he was unable to pinpoint why. "I'm going to be getting rid of this particular dog anyway." The wolf couldn't help but linger bitterly on the word dog. It was something he associated with nothing but restraints and control. Fruitcake, somehow, managed to mutter a few words about not having been paid, which prompted a bark of a laugh from the norse god. "Ah but that's the beauty of it. You're no longer my employee, therefore I don't have to pay you." Fenrir shot in the man's direction, sharp blue eyes still focused on the woman.

"You know, it's normal practice for the other person to also give their name." He added, waiting patiently for her answer.

To say she was startled was an understatement. Hathor had given him absolutely no reason to want to stay in her company, content on trying to drive him away and end the unpleasant situation and yet even after a practically rejected apology on behalf of his employee, he was offering his time. Who on earth was this mortal? She was about to brush past him, ignore and disregard when his words caused her to pause and stare back into sharp blue eyes. Damn it all, why did they have to be blue? She has always been a sucker for blue eyes, no doubt a flaw in her creation. She didn’t take her eyes off his own, nor did he from hers as he spoke to the sniveling worm of a mortal that impressively enough had still managed words but only seemed to fuel an instant and prompt firing which had been promised moments earlier.

Leif should have been angry or at least upset by her rude attitude but instead, here he was, in a dingy disgusting alleyway, being patient and showing that he was on her side when many might say she took the situation too far even though Fruitcake had been in the wrong. In this moment, she decided to take a good look at him, really look at him instead of just labeling him as a pretty face. She felt like this man was familiar, nagging at her brain but she didn’t know how or why. It was strange because she had a feeling that if they had met, she wouldn’t have been able to forget the intense feeling his gaze held or a personality such as his. She had honestly hoped he hadn’t noticed her lack of name in return but it seems as usual for today, she was out of luck. ”Where’s the fun in being normal?, she questioned with a playful smirk, ducking under his arm before turning to walk backwards towards the door so she could continue to look upon him. ”Perhaps after that drink, I might be inclined to return a name to you.”

Fenrir followed, leaving the thief in a crumpled heap, his ability to speak finally having waned. Smokey would help him to hospital and then any & all communication would cease. The man was already out of his mind as he chuckled at the woman's words. "As you wish." He smiled wolfishly as they made their way back through the door. His eyes flitted to the dancers but he wasn't really watching, more taking note. It was a habit one developed after decades of thievery. The first rule of casing a joint; make sure you know it as well as the back of your hand. But he wasn't here for work so he let himself relax, nimbly moving to the side to let a waitress carrying a platter of drinks pass by.

As they approached the bar the god took a seat, resting his folded arms against the sparkling surface. "So here's what I have so far...you work in this fine establishment. You don't tolerate bullshit. And you're extremely cautious." Fenrir observed bluntly, though there was no judgement in his tone. It simply was. A list of facts…or at least what he presumed were likely to be facts. "Oh, and I'll have whatever you're having." He added as an afterthought, pushing his card towards her.

”Oh? Is that so?”, she questioned, her tone playful and light as she slid her fingers across the bar, slowly snatching the card pushed in her direction and giving it a twist to see both sides. Of course he had to be competition, the name Nightingale familiar but one she had never ventured a journey in. It was surprising that one of his ex-employees would choose to come here instead of just going to the other establishment. She wasn’t one to look into those things though, it just hinted that maybe there was more going on just like the Jade Jaguar but what, she wasn’t completely sure. Normally, she would have just slid around the bar and started on their drinks but instead she decided to keep it simple. No need to lay out all of your cards, especially if someone wanted to know them.

The current bartender strolled over, not even having time to ask before Hathor spoke up without moving her gaze from her new companion. ”Two shots of tequila and keep ‘em comin’, she said before leaning against the bar. ”So here’s what I have so far…you are overly observant. You are blunt and straightforward with your words. You are nimble but I’m not sure if that is due to skill or just a natural ability. Oh…and you are terrible at nicknames or I’m going to pray that no parent would willingly name their child fruitcake. How am I doing so far?”, she asked with a sly grin, taking the newly deposited shot and tossing it back in one easy motion.

"You think I named him Fruitcake? I try to call them by their real names but they hate it." Fenrir shrugged; it was true. Superstitious shits. They'd also refuse to walk over cracks in the sidewalk and have to drink exactly one & a half shots of vodka before going on a job. It wasn't his place to tell them otherwise however. "But you're doing okay. I'll give you like a...7/10. I'd hire you." He grinned as if this entire scenario were some grand and ridiculous job interview. Taking a hold of his tequila shot after the barman had returned, he held it up to his companion before downing it smoothly.

"Are you sure we haven't met before? You're annoyingly familiar." He looked at her appraisingly as he leant back in his chair. Fenrir didn't mean to be so, well...nosey but he was prone to curiosity and she was being so stubborn that it was intriguing. The aztec goddess who owned this establishment clearly hired both mortals and gods bu-... He abruptly clicked the fingers of one hand in a sudden burst of excitement. "That's it! Damn I'm slow today." The wolf crossed his arms across his chest, a satisfied look spreading across his features. He knew she was of the egyptian pantheon but he couldn't quite remember her name. Sure he could just text Tlaz but that was far too easy.

She chuckled, taking another shot in her hand and holding it up back at him in a mini toast before tossing it back. ”Good to know I have a backup offer should I need it.”, she teased, about ready for the next shot but pausing at his question. Hath raised a brow, trying to think of where she had seen him before because he had seemed vaguely familiar but it came up blank. ”Only annoyingly? I must be losing my touch. I agree you seem familiar but I’m not sure we have met. Perhaps we have seen each other in passing.”, she suggested with a light shrug. It wasn’t something she was all too concerned about since a lot of faces passed her way when she was behind the bar, dancing, or the odd times she worked in Illicit. However, he did tempt her curiosity with the sudden burst of excitement, his words queuing in that he had figured something out. If she hadn’t been positive before then the cat eating a canary look definitely confirmed it. She should have been more curious about what she was forgetting but for a moment, his satisfied appearance was rather distracting. Thank goodness Tlaz wasn’t here or she would be meddling and also ecstatic that she was having drinks with a man. It wasn’t something she typically indulged in unless it was among friends. ”Care to share your epiphany or am I being left mysteriously in the dark?”

"I don't know..." He smiled light-heartedly, eyes scanning over the face of the goddess, which he had to admit was outstandingly beautiful. "I might be persuaded if I knew your name first." His words were searching and he knew that she was just as likely to get annoyed by him, as give him any answers. This didn't however stop Fenrir from raising a playful eyebrow at her. Pausing, his eyes strayed to the barman who had come closer to the pair again. "Do you have a pen?" He asked, patiently waiting as the mortal nodded & passed him one.

The next tequila shot went down as easily as the first, and afterwards Fenrir grabbed a nearby beer mat. Turning it over he began to scribble on its surface, using his free hand to hide whatever he was doing from his companion. "I'll give you a clue." He said as he continued drawing, finally pushing a very crude image of an hourglass in front of her. It was admittedly, a frustratingly vague clue, and more a bitter nod to the vulnerable nature of these new lives they led.

A sly smile played on her lips and she sipped her drink, not planning on answering him but intrigued that he wanted to know her name so badly. The last mortal she had let close had turned out to be a god and now was gone. She wasn’t sure getting attached to another mortal that would ultimately lead to just a friendship or break up when it got serious instead of just for fun was a good idea though he was making it awfully tempting. His personality kept her on her toes and helped her forget her worries of the day while his appearance was just an overall bonus, one that she very much appreciated but she could get used to being around this man. Hathor arched a brow as he asked for a pen and proceeded to draw a simple hourglass which gave her absolutely no clue what he could have meant. Was he trying to just say they had met sometime? Because that was a bit too obvious so it had to be something else.

If he wanted to play a game though, she was more than happy to oblige. She slid off the barstool, moving to stand between his legs as she ran her hand over his shoulder, down his arm, up his hand, and stopping at the tip of the pen before plucking it gently from his fingers. She pulled his hand close to her, softly uncurling his fingers before doing the same trick he had earlier to block the view of what she was writing on the palm of his hand and curling his hand back into a fist when she was done. Hath kept his fist in her hands for a moment, placing a chaste kiss to his knuckles before glancing into his eyes as she spoke, ”Until we meet again.” With that being said, Hathor made her way out of the bar, looking confident in her strides though she was feeling anything but that as she found herself once more in the back of a taxi that evening.

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

---

The Morrigan will admit that she had, at first, been too preoccupied to even notice the bodies. And the whails of despair. It wasn't her fault. It really was very hard to concentrate when your mind was trying to rip itself into three pieces. Anand had tried to claw her way out, bloodlust drumming through their body. Seeking, wanting, needing. "So much blood, I want to-" The voice purred, low and sultry. It wrapped around their body like a snake, waiting to squeeze, to bite. To free itself. So much chaos would make it easy to take control. They just needed to-

"Be quiet. I'm trying to think." Badb snapped, quieting the other voice. She looked every part the socialite she was, posture straight, legs crossed, eyes unwavering. Her dress was flowy and pink and very Macha. "But it's so pre-" It was unfortunate that by the time she'd realised the sovereign goddess had dressed them, she was already running late. "I said shut up." Badb muttered. Her gaze cold, the celts attention was drawn to a mortal rushing past, phone in hand as they frantically began to dial 911. Well that wouldn't do.

"I don't think you should do that." A hand shot out, gripping onto the mortals forearm, neatly manicured nails digging deep into the soft flesh. The waiter yelped in pain, dropping the phone, which Badb easily caught before depositing it into a nearby glass of red wine. His face fell, surprise drowning out the agony pulsing through him. "Now off with you. Let the adults handle this." She snapped, disdain dripping from her words like venom. The mortal muttered and fumbled with his hands, opened his mouth once...twice, saw the stare that was being fixed upon him, and left.

The crowd in the room had begun to thin, gods and mortals alike frantically leaving, for even being near death was abhorrent to so many of them. Badb instead stepped closer to the bodies, lifting up her dress so not as to drench the ends in blood. It stained the marble floor, seeping into cracks where even the most diligent of cleaners would have difficulty reaching. She had never seen death as peaceful. It was bloody and violent and terrifying. It was beautiful. Delicious.

Deep brown eyes took in the forms of the corpses. A senseless giggle escaped her lips but stopped almost as soon as it had started. "I will murder us all if you continue." Badb muttered. It was not easy to maintain control when the stench of death permeated everything. Her body tensed, and she closed her eyes, slowing her breathing as she wrestled with the snake. If you don't let me do this, we can never get our revenge. The snake hissed and snapped, but was unable to uncoil itself in this place. It would be patient for longer, even if it did not want to be.

Finally, she relaxed. A hand reached over to the goddess Macaria, whom had been gifted with overseeing those lucky enough to receive a blessed death. Ironic really. Badb let the breath slowly leech out of her body, a prolonged sigh, the room around her falling away like pieces of a broken jigsaw puzzle. The present disappeared, and her mind grasped for something else. It was peaceful in these moments, for this power was not the domain of Anand or Macha, it was hers and hers only to wield. In this place she was the hooded crow once more.

Jet black wings flapped and she took flight, until she landed in a forest of bone white trees. The past, present and future were not like people thought. They were entangled, like new lovers, difficult to seperate. Once she could easily grasp ahold of these strands of fate but now, she pondered as she hopped onto a small branch of one tree in particular, all she had was half truths.

It was easy still to find the right tree. Without contact to the person themselves, or something precious to their heart, she could not land upon their boughs. The goddess waited patiently, until a pool appeared at the foot of the tree. Its waters were dark and seemingly endless. The crows head tilted as beady eyes watched the eerily still surface. Time did not exist in this place and she did not feel the passage of it. It was simply there, to be peered at but no more. It would not do to swim in its depths, though many had tried and failed.

After both forever and never, ripples appeared, and with it, flashes of half-truths.

Ⱥ հօօժҽժ ƒìցմɾҽ. Ƒąçҽ մղʂҽҽղ.

Ⱥ ʂաօɾժ, ąղçìҽղէ. འմղҽʂ çąɾѵҽժ ʂҟìӀӀƒմӀӀվ ìղէօ ìէʂ ʂմɾƒąçҽ.

Ⱥ քɾօէҽçէօɾ...էհօմցհ ղօէ ƒօɾ Ӏօղց.

The crow ruffled its feathers in annoyance as the pool and trees of this windless place disappeared. Badb removed her hand from the now cold body, eyes narrowing. What was she supposed to do with that?

Kill, kill, kill.

I hate you.

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

Eros, god of love

g o d o͏ f͏ l o v e
_{e r o s. 
e r o s.}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

	Jude Law | #FF446E ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ Eros; Ἔρως Cupid Amor ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ Love, desire, lust & sex ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Greek 💘

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 💘 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓌𝓉𝓎'𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝓂𝑒𝓁𝑜𝒹𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝓀𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝑜𝓊𝓉}}

████████████

 A M O R E
A M O R E

^{Once the winged god had a bow and two sets of arrows. Gold to kindle love in the heart they wounded and the other heavy with lead to create an aversion & hate. He could inspire desire or loathing in any who he targeted, and often he would shoot with his eyes closed, so that fate would instead choose who was hit. But these were lost to him during the fall. Still can he inspire lust and love in mortals and gods alike, but now he must harm himself to be able to produce these feelings in others. A fleeting moment of lust may require only a few drops of blood, whereas an eternal, true love, well Eros has only tried this but once and the harm he must cause himself is immense, taking much time & energy to recover from. So much so that it is not something he would dare to try, unless he had a true reason to.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 💘 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃}}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Energetic & Magnetic Articulate & Warm Protective & Affectionate⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Contradictory & Mischevious Hedonistic & Impulsive Avoidant & Self-serving ⌟

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Elijah 'Eli' Anderson ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ 34 ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ Yes all of the sex please, male, he/him ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Owner and Manager of Eden; if you know you know

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 💘 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{𝒮𝑜 𝐼'𝓂 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝑔𝑜𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒹𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝐼 𝒹𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊}}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ 💘 Eros, like many many others, is the child born of the genius combination of Ares and Aphrodite. As one of the Erotes, he held power over love, lust, desire and sex. A lot to be getting on with really. There are many stories of mischief and trouble making, but the best story of all involves the god himself falling in love. Oh wait, Eros wants to tell you this part... "𝑀𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓇𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹. 𝒩𝑜𝓌 𝐼 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝓌𝑜; 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝒹, 𝑜𝓃𝑒...𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝒹. 𝒜 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓈𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒾𝓃𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒿𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝒹𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓈... 𝒪𝓃𝒸𝑒, 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝒶 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈. 𝒩𝑜𝓌 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒹𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑒, 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒶𝓁𝓁. 𝒮𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒶𝒷𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒜𝓅𝒽𝓇𝑜𝒹𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓁, 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒷𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇, 𝓅𝓊𝓃𝒸𝒽 𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝒷𝒾𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝒹, 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓌 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹...𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌...𝒹𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝓇 𝑒𝒶𝑔𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓉. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓃 𝑜𝓃 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉. 𝒟𝑒𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝑔𝓃𝑜𝓇𝑒𝒹. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓈. 𝐼𝓉'𝓈 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝓌𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒, 𝓉𝑜𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝑒𝓂𝒷𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈. 𝒜𝓃𝓎𝓌𝒶𝓎, 𝓂𝓎 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒜𝓅𝒽𝓇𝑜𝒹𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝓊𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒿𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑒. 𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒹𝑜 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝒶𝓁𝓁. 𝒮𝑜, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝑔𝑒𝓉𝓈 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹...𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒹𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝐸𝓇𝑜𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅 𝓈𝑜𝓁𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓂𝓈. 𝐸𝓇𝑜𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝑔𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝓃 𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒽 (𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓈𝒽 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝑔𝑜𝒹𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓇 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓈𝑒). 𝒮𝑜, 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈, 𝐸𝓇𝑜𝓈 𝒻𝓁𝑒𝓌 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓌 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈. 𝒩𝑜𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓌 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒶𝒻𝒶𝓇, 𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝓊𝓉𝓉 𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒, 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒹𝓂𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑒𝒹𝓁𝓎 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓇𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉. 𝒮𝑜, 𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓌 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹, 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓅𝓉 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝑒𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝒹, 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒶 𝓅𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓁. 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃... 𝒪𝑜𝓅𝓈. 𝒴𝑒𝓈, 𝐼 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝒷𝒷𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝓎𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓌. 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝒹𝓊𝓂𝒷 𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓎, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒹𝑒𝒻𝑒𝓃𝓈𝑒, 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒹𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝐼𝓉'𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝓊𝓁𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝑜 𝑔𝑜𝒹 𝒹𝒶𝓂𝓃 𝑔𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝑜𝓊𝓈. 𝒮𝑜, 𝒶𝓈 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐸𝓇𝑜𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝒷𝒷𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓂𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓌, 𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓊𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓁 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈. 𝐻𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝑔𝓃𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁, 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝓃'𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓂𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒'𝒹 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒. 𝒮𝓊𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓉'𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝑔𝓃𝑜𝓇𝑒... 𝒮𝓅𝑜𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓇. 𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉. 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝐸𝓇𝑜𝓈, 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎, 𝓃𝑜-𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁 (𝒾𝒹𝒾𝑜𝓉𝓈), 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝒾𝒻 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒. 𝒮𝑜 𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻...𝒹𝒾𝒹. 𝐼𝓉'𝓈 𝒶 𝒷𝒾𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝒹, 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒶𝓁𝓁, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝒹 (𝒷𝒾𝑔 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝒹). 𝒩𝑜𝓌 𝐸𝓇𝑜𝓈' 𝓅𝒶𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁, 𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓋𝒶𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒻𝒻. 𝒜𝓌𝑒𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒, 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝐸𝓇𝑜𝓈 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓂, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓌𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉, 𝓈𝑜 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈. 𝒯𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓇 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓇𝓊𝒾𝓃 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝐻𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝒹 & 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓁𝓎, 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒, 𝒷𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈. 𝒩𝑜𝓌 𝐸𝓇𝑜𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝓃'𝓉 𝒶 𝓉𝑜𝓉𝒶𝓁 𝒹𝑜𝓊𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒷𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓉𝑒, 𝓈𝑜 𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈...𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓂𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒶𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉. 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓎𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓌𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓁𝓎 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓋𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝓊𝓈𝒷𝒶𝓃𝒹'𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂, 𝒾𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝑒𝓇. 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓉𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒶𝓉 𝐸𝓇𝑜𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝓈𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝓁𝑒𝑒𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝒮𝓃𝑒𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓂 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝒾𝓁 𝓁𝒶𝓂𝓅 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶 𝓀𝓃𝒾𝒻𝑒, 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝓊𝓈𝒷𝒶𝓃𝒹'𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒷𝓊𝓉... 𝒟𝓊𝓃 𝒹𝓊𝓃 𝒹𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓃𝓃𝓃𝓃. 𝒜 𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓅 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝑜𝓉 𝑜𝒾𝓁 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓇, 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝓊𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓂 (𝒾𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉...). 𝐵𝑒𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓎𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝒶 𝓀𝓃𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝒽𝒾𝓂, 𝐸𝓇𝑜𝓈 𝓇𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒜𝓅𝒽𝓇𝑜𝒹𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝑜𝑜𝓇, 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝓇𝑜𝓀𝑒𝓃. 𝒜𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝑔𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹, 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉. 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑒𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒, 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓇𝑒𝒹𝑒𝓂𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃, 𝒜𝓅𝒽𝓇𝑜𝒹𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝑔𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑔𝓇𝓊𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓁𝓈. 𝐿𝓊𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓁𝓎 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅 (𝒾𝓃𝒸𝓁𝓊𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓁𝓎) 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒾𝓃 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒. 𝒮𝒽𝑒'𝓈 𝒶 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑒. 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜, 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓁𝓎 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝒶𝒹𝓈 & 𝓁𝑜𝒶𝒹𝓈 & 𝓁𝑜𝒶𝒹𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝑒𝓍. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝒹. ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ 💘 Eros thought the fall was hilarious. Hilarious and great for him. Yes he didn't have wings now and an endless supply of magical arrows. But there were mortals, so many mortals. Eros isn't going to lie, he spent the first few centuries extremely drunk and extremly fulfilled...if you catch his drift (he had a lot of sex). He's not going to say he wrote the karma sutra but he definitely has done all the moves & more. He even found a way to avoid going to the bore fest that was the gods annual meet up, thanks to his Aunt Hebe. Or that, at least, is the way Eros will spin his tale of events. In reality, Eros woke after the fall to a crushing realisation. The weakening of his powers was immediately apparent to the god and with that, he knew that the magic his arrow had cast upon him, the spell that had initially sent him tumbling head over heels in love with Psyche, had worn off. When he thought of Psyche his heart still fluttered but he was scared, scared that if he saw her again, he would no longer love her. Scared even that Psyche may no longer care for him. So he avoided her, at all costs. For it was better to live in ignorance than to live knowing their hearts were no longer one. Eros had not loved before Psyche and he knew he would not love again. But he needed to distract himself and what better way then surrounded by warm bodies. Now Eros was the god of love but after he had forsaken Psyche (and only after), he found that the only way he could use his powers was by harming himself. Major bummer really. And to create true love or desire, which he had only nurtured once since the fall, required him to cause such grievous bodily harm to himself that he rarely did it. Instead he focused on lust. It was still a literal pain but less so, sometimes only a few drops of blood being needed to inspire lust, especially in mortals, whom were so often weak and ready. Maybe it would have been easier to avoid it all together but Eros had always been prone to mischief and he was unable to resist the temptation. Of course there was also the issue of the festival...for he could not avoid Psyche there. Hebe, though sad about how he was behaving, was unable to deny him when he came to her, puppy dog eyes in full force, begging for her to bring him Ambrosia. Every year she would tell him to speak to Psyche and every year he would come up with another excuse. He knew he was taking advantage of his aunts genuine kindness but whenever he even thought about going to the festival, it felt like he was robbed of air, like he was drowning. No...it was better to avoid it altogether. Eros, although he did not know it, was fighting against a part of himself that he could not deny. For a love god to be so scared of love...or the loss of it, was laughable really. Most of the time he was a bouncing bundle of energy, always present, always wanting to spend time with mortals & gods alike. But just occasionally, he would slip into himself. He heard that mortals called it depression but whatever it was felt like torture. He would isolate himself, shutting the world out until he felt better again. If they had lasted years, he likely would have refused Ambrosia during these times, but he was lucky that they were fleeting, lasting only weeks or maybe months at worst. After some time living life in this manner, Eros created a company by the name of Eden. Eden set out to create what is best described as a combination of a swingers club and a secret party. Each time the club would be at a different location, only known to those with an invitation (or anyone skilled enough to track it down). Masks were always compulsory, fantasies were fulfilled, and clothing was optional. It was a delicious distraction and for the past 10 years, Eros has immersed himself in his work, and Eden has developed a good reputation for itself...at least in the right circles. So Eros keeps himself busy and is rarely alone, for he does not dare think, lest he realise what he is missing. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ 💘 To have a fuckton of sex and to be reunited with Psyche and for her to still love him ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ 💘 Losing his true love forever

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

The Morrigan, goddess of destiny, death & battle

P h a n t o m q u e e n
_{M o r r i g a n. 
M o r r i g a n.}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

	Blanca Soler | #efebf0 ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ Nightmare 'Phantom' Queen Queen of the slain War-fury Morrigu; goddess of battle Macha; goddess of sovereignty Badb; goddess of prophecy ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ Death, destiny, battle ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Celtic 🔮

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 🔮 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓶𝔂𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓮𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴}}

████████████

 F O R E S I G H T
F O R E S I G H T

^{Once the Morrigan had a wealth of powers. Shapeshifter, war-fury, prophetess. She was birth, life and death. Now a tripartite goddess no more, only remnants of Badb remained after the fall, Morrigu and Macha seemingly lost to her forever. By touching a person, be it mortal or god, or an item that is or was very precious to them, can Morrigan gain a glimpse into their future. No longer does she see the full truth but fragments of it, like shreds of a torn up pictures, the rest scattered to the winds. These give her hints as to what the persons future holds and it is up to the goddess what she decides to do with this information.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 🔮 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{𝓝𝓸 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝔂𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮, 𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷 𝓫𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴}}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Cunning & Persistent Refined & Erudite Beguiling & Persuasive⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Cold & Calculating Ruthless & Deceptive Cruel & Manipulative ⌟

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Madison Saint'clair ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ 26 ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ Bisexual, female, she/her ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Investment Banker at JP Morgan Socialite

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 🔮 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓪𝓿𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭}}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ 🔮 Tripartite in nature, The Morrigan was the goddess of death, destiny and battle. She was the keeper of fate and a purveyor of prophecy. Her role was to appear before battles, offering prophecy and favour to gods and mortals alike...for a price. A cunning shapeshifter,she could take many forms including a raven to fly over the battlefield & feed of corpses, a beautiful woman to seduce powerful men, a fierce warrior-queen and an old crone. Her presence was seen as a terrifying omen of death to many. Yet wars for her and the Irish were played out sword to sword - in the skill of a fighter against an opponent, in the cleverness of the cattle raid, in courage and skill and the will to win. Born the daughter of the goddess & sorceress Ernmas and Delbaeth, one of the kings of the Gods, Morrigan had three sisters named Ériu, Banba and Fódla. Her family were members of the Tuatha Dé Danann, a tribe of magical people, whose arrival to Ireland was met with resistance by many, including the Firbolg and the Fomorions. They quickly found themselves at war with the Firbolg, leading to fierce and bloody battles. Morrigan and her sisters aided in the first Battle of Moytura by casting magical spells, with victory being theirs. In their second battle against the Fomorisons, Dagda came to her by the ford of the river, after which she prophesised that their tribe would indeed win the battle but at the cost of great bloodshed. On the day of the battle the gods gathered, and when asked what skills she possessed, replied with “What I shall follow I shall hunt.” The battle quickly turned into a bloodbath and ended when the Morrigan incited bloodlust with her cries to her tribe. The Fomorions fled from her and perished in the sea. And the rest...well you'll have to ask those that were unfortunate enough to stumble across the goddess. She recommends speaking to the handsome Cú Chulainn personally... ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ 🔮 After the fall, The Morrigan woke like the others. Her shapeshifting abilities gone, she was stuck in her true form, that of a young woman. Enraged by such a descent, she lashed out, hurting any mortals in her path, putting all of her rage into battle. Though not the powerful goddess she once was, the damage she could cause was still immense. Morrigu bathed in the blood of the slain but she was never satisfied. The only thing that would ease her fury was to destroy the one who had done this to her. It was her all and she would not stop. She would find them, she would destroy them, she would... Morrigu, at the height of her rage, disappeared. As had Matcha, now only Badb remained. Goddess of prophecy, her counterparts seemingly gone, leaving only the cold, manipulative, careful Badb. Thankfully she was still gifted with the sight but it was now severely limited. It took time to understand the fragments of visions she saw but she found she could use these to her advantage, if she was patient. She could see future affairs, the downfall of companies, even sometimes imminent murders. With this she could either blackmail or aid, as she had done many a time before the fall, and slowly the goddess was able to work her way up in aristocratic societies throughout Europe. Eventually she was by the side of generals, admirals, warmongers, and it could be said that she has been at the heart of some of Europes bloodiest conflicts. Despite the influence it wrought, aricrostatic society was still often dull and tedious. She attended balls, garden parties, weddings & funerals. All so tedious and droll. She married once, though the fool accidentally and tragically fell from his balcony only weeks after they tied the knot and Morrigan sadly had to inherit his immense amounts of wealth. It was a difficult burden to bear but the goddess helped in managing his several estates, as well as his stocks in the East India Trading company. With the downfall of empires, it became quickly evident that such companies were the future. That monarchies and governments were to fall on their knees. And so Morrigan stepped out of the path of the rich and bored, her influence and intelligence easily landing her a place at Harvard (and later MIT and Cambridge) where she acquired an impressive education. Of course, Morrigan still found herself in the laps of the stupidly wealthy during these times and her games could continue. Her foresight lead her to the stock market, where she was able to predict the direction of the trends. Sometimes she would use it to help others make money and sometimes she would use it to financially bankrupt them. It all depended on her mood that day. Finally, after tiring of college life, she landed herself a job as an investment banker at JP Morgan, where she has been working for the past 5 years. Alongside this she has been enjoying life as a socialite in New York city. Constantly surrounded by the rich and powerful, the Morrigan now whispers into the ears of those with the capabilities to make big changes. Whether that be for good or bad. Any drama in New York is likely her doing, and Madison Saint'clair is infamous throughout the city. Recently however, Morrigan has began to lose the control that she has so carefully maintained. Parts of her have begun to seep out, Morrigu and Matcha returning once more. Badb and Matcha she could manage, the former cold & aloof, the latter honest & optimistic, but Morrigu... Morrigu was not happy. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ 🔮 Morrigu wishes to destroy the one who robbed her of her powers and forced her to live amongst mortals. Oh, and Morrigu would also like to point out that she does not care what Macha or Badb want. ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ 🔮 Losing control.

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

Fenrir, The Giant Wolf God

w o l f g o d
_{f e n r i r. 
f e n r i r.}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

	Joseph Morgan | #B0C4DE ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ Fenrisúlfr Hróðvitnir Vánagandr ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ Being a fucking big ass wolf? Making Odin into a delicious snack ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Norse ⛓️

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 ⛓️ 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{ℌ𝔦𝔰 𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔫 𝔧𝔞𝔴𝔰 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔶}}

████████████

 L U P I N E
L U P I N E

^{Fenrir may no longer be the imposing wolf he once was, but that does not mean he has lost all his canine attributes. He still retains the strength and agility of a wolf. His tread is near silent, which is highly useful in his line of work, but also means he has a tendency to accidentally sneak up on people (and thieves are twitchy enough all ready). Oh and he still has super sharp canines, which is alright. Basically, wolves rule, humans drool.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 ⛓️ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔢 ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔤𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔞 𝔟𝔬𝔵 𝔣𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔬𝔣 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰}}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Charismatic & Smart-arsed Resilient & Enduring Loyal & Resourceful⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Irascible & Mercurial Dissembling & Secretive Lonely & Demanding ⌟

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Leif...that's it ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ Mid-late 30's ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ Bisexual, Male, He/Him ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Leader of The Wolf Pack Owner of Nightingale, a nightclub based in downtown Seattle

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 ⛓️ 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔳𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔭𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶}}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ ⛓️ The firstborn of Loki and the giantess Angrboða, Fenrir's fate was set whilst he was still but a pup. A völva, a sorceress, foretold to Odin that he would be consumed by Fenrir. She also spoke of Járnviðr, the forest where Jötnar and the giant wolves were born, and how his children Hati & Sköll would consume the moon & sun. Yet despite sending one sister into the sea and one to the land of dead, Odin decided to raise Fenrir amongst the Aesir. The rest of them were scared of the growing wolf, and only Tyr would dare feed him. Fenrir was always thankful for this and viewed the god as a friend, or at the very least, someone that he could trust. It was strange to be raised amongst people who hated you, to never truly be able to call your home home. As he grew older, Fenrir grew immense in size, so much so that the Aesir no longer felt comfortable in his presence. And it did not take long till their fear became too much, terrified that he could consume Odin and wreak havoc amongst the nine realms (wimps). Still naive by nature, they convinced Fenrir that they had come up with a game. They would tie him up in chains and as a test of his strength, see if he could break out of them. Fenrir was still relatively young then and he was all for showing them how strong he had grown, so he agreed. The first two sets of chains were no match for him and he easily freed himself. For their third attempt, the gods had the dwarves forge the strongest chain ever built, which nevertheless gave the appearance of being very light and even soft to the touch. When the gods presented Fenrir with this third fetter, he became suspicious, and he refused to be bound with it unless one of the gods would stick his or her hand in his mouth as a pledge of good faith. Only Tyr was brave enough to do this, knowing that it would mean the loss of his hand. And, sure enough, when Fenrir found himself unable to break free of his bonds, he ripped Tyr’s hand from its arm. The chain was then tied to a boulder and a sword was placed in Fenrir’s jaws to hold them open. As he howled wildly and ceaselessly, a foamy river called “Expectation” flowed from his drooling mouth. And so...his life was determined. There was the prediction about Ragnarok, about him breaking free and destroying the world...yada yada... But in the end, all he had was isolation and suffering. Thanks Odin, dickhead. ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ ⛓️ When Fenrir woke to find himself fallen, atop Midgard, in human form, he was conflicted. His new found freedom was sweet. No longer was he bound in chains, mouth prised open by the sword, Aesir mocking him. He could ignore the fact that he had been betrayed by the only one of them he had viewed as a friend. Yet, he was no longer a wolf, no longer the powerful beast he had once been. Though thankfully his strength & agile nature still remained. It helped him survive, in the early days, in this foreign place...until he came across the mortals. He had no concept of them, why would he? His life had been lived far away from Midgard. And so he had not expected that when they saw his skills, how he could do much that they could not, that he could be of use, that they would trap him. He had wanted to trust them but he was betrayed almost instantly. Rage boiled in his blood, and Fenrir struggled and fought but he was not as strong as he once had been, and they were many and he was one. His furiosity knew no bounds and he killed many mortals that day. But still...he was unable to escape them. They trapped him, difficult though it was and made him what he would later learn was called a slave. He had no word for it at first, just trapped & chained & bound. Again. It was no worse or better than his treatment by the Aesir, just different. He was traded like a commodity, treated like a thing worthy of no compassion. Oh of course there were many escapes, but there was always too many of them and he knew not their ways, could not easily blend in among them. It was lucky that he never stayed with one group of mortals for long, or they would have been suspicious of his lack of aging. As it was, a century passed without any real changes to his life. Fenrir always watched and learnt from the mortals. Mimicking their behaviours, learning how to truly pass as one of them. It was this, and a boys sloppy way of chaining him up, that finally led to his escape. Freedom once more. And this time he ran. Isolation was what he sought. The mountains...the desert...anywhere that humans found difficult to adapt in, Fenrir could be found. For centuries, he knows not exactly how long, he lived like this. It was boring but that was nothing new to him. Loneliness was just another part of life and if it meant not being chained up, he was happy to accept this as his lot. Finally, he dared to leave his self-inflicted confinement, or at least, he had decided that he could no longer live this eternity in fear. It was a shameful way to be. He had learnt enough to feel comfortable in their presence and he would not make the same mistakes he had, so long ago. In his heart, he still wanted to kill all mortals, kill the Aesir, but he knew that was a fools errand. Instead, he stayed in the shadows, treading carefully. He was strong and agile still, and he learnt he had a knack for getting others to do as he wished. Apparently mortals called it charisma. So, he started a thieving crew...or what would later become known as a thieving crew. At first it was just a group of mortals and himself, robbing the filthy rich mortals for all they were worth. Years and centuries passed and Fenrir continued on. The dumb mortals took to calling themselves The Wolf Pack, saying (and not knowing how right they were) that his gaze was perpetually like that of a wolf stalking its prey. As Empires came and went, museums became a thing and Fenrir would steal artefacts from naval ships and later trains, selling them onto the museums himself. Sometimes he would even steal from one museum and sell onto another, which caused plenty of delicious arguments amongst the mortals. There were also the wealthy assholes, who made it far too easy to rob them of gold and precious jewellrey. And on and on it went...there was always someone to steal from. And his life was more than comfortable because of it. He did eventually, become tempted to steal from his fellow deities. They after all had accumulated much over the centuries. And eventually this led him to Tlazōlteōtl, goddess of sin and filth. What a delicious person to steal from. He thought it would be fun to do alone and unfair to put his mortals in the path of a goddess. So, one night he crept into her home, silent and predatorial as ever. He will admit that he was cocky and did not expect to be found, hand in the cookie jar so to speak, but he was and well...Tlaz obviously felt an overwhelming urge to seduce him (hey Tlaz 😉). It was enjoyable to play around with the Aztec and even when she decided to fall for the God of War, they remained friends. As the world changed and Fenrir found himself in the modern day, he realised he needed to have a cover for his activities. Everything was watched so much more closely in this new era. So he opened Nightingale, a nightclub in the heart of Downtown Seattle. It quickly became known for being rowdy and dangerous and cheap. And Fen liked that just perfectly. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ ⛓️ To have a home, with family around him. To be free from the thought that he will once more be put in chains, put under someone else's service. ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ ⛓️ Chains, obviously. Also olives are kind of disgusting.

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

---

𝓢𝓲𝓫𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮

_{𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.Isas Hotel Room
𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. Deimos | Isabel
𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. Ares}

---

♪Now, bring yo ass over here, hoe♪

Twenty stories up one of Seattle's finest hotels, music blasted loudly in a five star suite and any guest in one of the adjacent rooms would have a headache in the morning. The rooms were gold and shiny and pristine. Not a speck of dust tarnished any surface and the windows gleamed in the moonlight. Guests normally got whatever they wanted, including peace and quiet. However idle threats had been made regarding the consequences of interruptions, and so there had been none.

♪'Til all skeet-skeet, motherfucker♪

It was for the best. Deimos loved to play with mortals but they usually didn't like to play back. The goddess was currently spinning in the centre of the living room, a cloud of ridiculously floofy baby pink swirling alongside her. Surprisingly deft feet kept her balanced, giggles escaping her lips as she went around and around and around. A bottle of champagne was gripped tightly in one hand though the intoxicating dizziness felt was not yet its doing. Finally she stopped, eyes narrowing in focus as she held the bottle in front of her, aiming away from herself. Tongue poking out of the side of her mouth she released the beast. The cork shot out, spinning and finally shattering a very precious looking ceramic vase.

♪Hoping she can sock it to me one more time♪

"Touchdownnnn!" She whooped, high fiving an invisible partner in crime. It had taken her three abandoned bottles of Veuve Clicquot to make that shot. Bouncing on her tip toes, platformed sneakers making her taller than her true height of 5ft4, Terror tried to contain her excitement as blue eyes twinkled conspiratorily. It shouldn't be too long now. Normally she wasn't very good at being patient, however today she'd tried her absolute best not to ruin the surprise. It was sooooo hard though. It was boring being by herself but Phobos had sent her the 🙄 face when she'd asked if he was free. Is he hanging out with someone else? Her bottom lip stuck out at the unsavoury thought.

“Looking for me?”

Isabel was standing at the door of the room with her arms folded. She was looking intensely at the woman on the other side of her hotel room. It wasn’t the first time someone was ‘waiting for her’ in her own hotel room. Though none of the other intimidators – private, criminal or public – looked so ridiculous. Or drank on the job. So this girl in front of her was probably just some jaded lover who wandered into the wrong room. On any other day there’d be hell to pay. Right now Isabel felt forgiving though.

Deimos' face lit up at the sight of the mortal in front of her. Skipping over, she wrapped her arms around Isa before the woman could do anything to stop the sudden onslaught of affection. "I was!" She chirped enthusiastically, still clinging on like a baby monkey to its mother. "I've been waiting for so long. I thought you'd never come!"

Great. A stalker.

With one hand Isabel pushed the stranger away. “I told the people in the lobby to wait five minutes before sending in security.” She made a theatrical display of watching down at her watch. “You got four and a half more minutes to get the hell out of here.” She even took a step sideways and motioned towards the door. As forgiving as she felt right now, she really didn’t want to be bothered by this girl. Whoever she was. The daughter of some client maybe? What did it matter?

"That..." The pout reappeared. "That's not very nice." Smoothing down the multiple layers of ruffles that constituted her dress, for a moment, Deimos looked like she was going to cry. Why was she being so mean? She'd gone to so much effort to meet her too. Everyone liked surprises after all! It just didn't make sense. It...it...

"Oh! I'm so stupid!" Deimos suddenly exclaimed, letting out a loud laugh. How could she have forgotten. No wonder Isa seemed so affronted and annoyed. Running into the master bedroom, there came the sounds of thudding and clattering before she returned, a neatly wrapped gift, red bow and all, gripped between her hands. "I got you a present!" She held it out to Isa, waiting expectantly for her to take it.

This was definitely reaching into the top ten weirdest things that happened in Isabel’s life by now. Did someone lose their child or something? What was going on? Carefully she took the gift with one hand and waited for a second to see if it would explode. Her eyes were still on the girl in the pink dress before her though. She seemed to know her, yet Isabel didn’t know the girl. That imbalance in information didn’t make her feel safe.

Still, after a few seconds she quite unceremoniously tore open the wrapping paper.

The goddess beamed as she watched Isa. "I thought maybe you could put it in your office or something." She leaned over to point to the framed photograph of her and Ares. "He doesn't usually like having his photo taken but I think he got bored of me pestering him."

What. The. Fuck.

Isa saw the picture. Her grip fainted. Her heart beat shot up. Something inside of her snapped. Too many questions rose up. She looked back at the girl dressed in pink. Impossible. Impossible! Adrenaline coursed through her blood. Isabel grabbed the girl by her arms. She spun around. The frame’s glass shattered on the ground. With a loud thud Isabel pushed the girl against hotel room’s door. “How do you know him?” She could barely restrain her own anger to speak.

"Well I don't feel like telling now." Deimos replied sullenly, all previous good humor sapped from her expression. She put up no fight as she was pinned against the door, body hanging limp, arms dangling at her sides. It would probably bruise where her shoulder blades had slammed against the hard wood but such things healed quickly for her kind. "You should try and guess. I'll give youuuu…three guesses and if you don't get it, then tough luck." She stuck out her tongue childishly at this proclamation.

For almost half a minute Isabel just looked at the girl with nothing but utter confusion on her face. In her mind she was battling the idea of knowing more from her dad’s life beyond the veil he erected. At the same time the person she was facing was clearly either a psychopath that was toying with her or absolutely insane.

Then again, she had worked with much worse people. She let the girl go and took a step back. Still facing her she crouched down to grab the picture to examine it. Her dad was dressed in military garb but not the girl. She wore some tough-looking leather outfit but it looked civilian. Still, she knew well enough what her dad did. Again she looked up. “CIA? You’re his handler?” She asked.

"Nope!" Deimos shook her head, not moving from where Isabel had left her. "Two guesses left! Better think carefully, Little Miss Markov."

Isabel very much hated that taunted. She went over the picture again. Things weren’t lining up. It looked old. Gods. “His lover?” God she hated even saying the word.

Her nose scrunched up in distaste at that guess. "Ewwwww! No, that's so gross! Come on Isabel, aren't lawyers meant to be super good at this stuff?" Picking up a piece of shattered glass from the floor, she idly began to poke at a sharp end with the pad of her index finger. "Last guess!" She pointed the shard of glass at Isa. "I believe in you!"

That was a strange yet telling visceral reaction towards that suggestion. The problem was that Isabel didn’t like the implication of it. She looked at the picture again. Her heart dropped. She threw aside again and beelined for the girl in pink. With one hand she quickly disarmed her again, with the other she took the side of her face. “Hold still.” She ordered, as she looked deep into the girls.

And then it click. The second it did, Isabel staggered backwards. She felt ill. If not for the adrenaline coursing through her body she’d be spinning. “No. No, no that’s impossible.” She grabbed the side of a chair to keep herself balanced. She had his eyes.

“You’re… his… daughter?!” Saying it almost made her hurl. She was younger! How!? What double life did her father live!? Did he have a whole other family somewhere else? Suddenly all the love she ever felt from him felt poisoned.

With their faces so close, Deimos would have licked her if she hadn't backed off so quickly. It was fun to lick people, she liked seeing their reactions. Instead she clapped her hands together, giggling with joy. "Bingo! Yay Isa!" She darted over to her sister, smushing their faces together once more as she went in for another hug. I'm so proud of you. I think papa wouldn't have wanted me to meet you but I just couldn't wait!"

Isabel couldn’t push her sibling off her quick enough. “You’re younger than me!” She yelled as she walked backwards, then away to walk in circles as she tried to get her brain in order again. “All those times he boarded a plane he-“ A wave of sickness hit her again. Isabel clutched her stomach. She came to Seattle to meet cousins, nephews, uncles, maybe even grandparents. With big eyes she looked over at the girl in pink. Instead she got a sister!

She fumbled in her purse. Damn it where was it, where was it! With a scream she emptied it all out on the floor. There was it, her phone! “He’ll explain it.” She muttered to herself as tears began to well up. “He’ll have an explanation for this.” She grabbed her phone and with shaking hands began to call her father.

"No no no! Don't call him!" Deimos lunged for the phone, gripping on to it and trying to prise it from Isabel's hands. Her fingernails dug into her skin as she clung on, though it wasn't clear whether this was or wasn't intentional. "I wanted to play with you first! Her eyes narrowed as she dug in deeper. "Don't make me hurt you Isabel." Dread had begun to seep off the woman and it tempted Deimos, calling out to her like a siren to a sailor. Ready to pull them towards shallow rocks.

Isabel released her grip on the phone to get away from the girl. Her eyes were big. Tears were welling up inside of them. She was taking quick but shallow breaths. For a second she felt dazed. Then she looked at her own hands. Blood was dripping from the nail wounds. These feelings, she had felt them before. She had felt them so many times. But now she was in control. Isabel’s breathing slowed down again. What kind of sick person talks about playing with someone like that!? It didn’t matter. The girl crossed a line. Despite everything, she was still her father’s daughter.

With two quick moves she tossed away her heels and hiked up her dress’ skirt a little bit and then got ready in her fighting stance. “Come and try, bitch.” She challenged the girl before her.

Deimos just gave her a playful smile as if they both were going to have some silly fun. She jumped a little to get herself loose but didn’t take a stance like Isabel did.

Like two predators eying each other they began to circle each other. Teasing the first attack out of each other. Each made a feigned switch. Then another step, and another. Their eyes darted over each other. Trying to find that gap.

Isabel saw one! With trained speed she attacked.

Deimos’ trap worked. The first blows were being traded. Behind each move of Isabel was focus and knowledge. She had trained for this. Her body moved on its own, lett her mind read her opponent. Deimos was a hard opponent to read though.

The goddess fought in a very different way than Isabel. She didn’t call on her training. Each move was instinctual. Each strike was more savage. Isabel felt her mind cloud up. In a few seconds her left arm was already covered with bruises from blocks. She managed to kick Deimos once in the head hard though. Just two more times and she reckoned the girl would be out on the floor.

Deimos didn’t want the fight to be over that quickly. She dodged a kick, then got close. Right up in Isabel’s face. It took her by surprise. Deimos gave her a smile, before she pulled her hair down. She dragged Isabel down on the ground, with her soon on top of it. “See sis? We’re having fun!” She exclaimed as she tried to pin down her victim.

Isabel would not have it. With her one free hand she grabbed one of her heels and struck Deimos straight on the head. It bought her the second she needed to get from under her and up on her feet again.

She didn’t need to win. She couldn’t. She just needed to survive until security arrived.

Deimos rolled over, standing before smoothing her hair where the shoe had so rudely messed it up. "I see how you like it." She smiled predatorily, tongue running over one side of her teeth. The two circled each other again, before Deimos suddenly lunged, grabbing onto Isabels arm with both hands.

She started to twist around, performing the old classic 'chinese burn'. So absorbed was she in the fun she was having, that she failed to notice the knee that came colliding into her stomach. The goddess let out a small oof as she stumbled backwards.

Isa glared at her, annoyed at the girl for using such juvenile tactics. It seemed to her that she was not taking this seriously. She didn't let her catch her breath however, moving to strike her once, twice...

Deimos called upon the dread that had been slowly building up in the room, seeping from the mortal in front of her. She paced towards Isabel, who was for a moment paralysed, unable to move out of the way. Terror overwhelmed her. Holding out a fist, Deimos spun it around before slowly opening her fingers. She'd been tightly gripping a long shard of glass, enough so that she had cut her own palm, blood dripping to mar the immaculate carpet.

"I think I'm bored of this now." She stated bluntly, closing the gap between them before suddenly ramming the glass into Isabels left thigh.

Excruciating pain burned Isabel’s leg as she collapsed.

Right then two guards from security burst through the door. In just a blink they saw it all. The half-destroyed hotel room, the woman on the ground and the pink-dressed girl standing over her with a bloodied glass shard. “Call 911”.

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

Sif, goddess of earth and fertility

g o d d e s s o͏ f͏ t h e e a r t h
_{s i f. 
s i f.}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

	Emma Brooks | #8FBC8F ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ Sif ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ Earth, harvest, fertility, fuck off long hair ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Norse 🌱

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 🌱 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{𝒾𝓂 𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒, 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜𝓍𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹, 𝒻𝓁𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝑔𝒽}}

████████████

 E M O V E R E
E M O V E R E

^{Sifs hair was at first, just hair. Beautiful, golden and long for sure, but still...just hair. However after Loki rudely shore it all off and it was replaced by magically imbued locks, (wrought by the dwarves themselves) it became something more. Her golden tresses were able to change with her emotions, giving a glimpse into her inner self, of which she had never shown before. At first it was mortifying and embarrassing to be so naked but eventually she became able to control it. And this was fine until the fall. Now her control has lapsed once more and when her emotions become overwhelming, it can change. When she feels calm again it will go back to its normal state, and if she tries super hard, she can sometimes force an emotion (and consequently the colour & length of her hair). Usually though, it's more of a hassle than anything else.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 🌱 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝓎 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓅𝓈, 𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓉𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉}}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Determined & Spirited Passionate & Caring Sensual & Tactile⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Idealistic & Stubborn Cool & Detached Dissonant & Disruptive ⌟

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Violet 'V' Hansen ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ 21 ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ she's figuring it out, female, she/her ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Influencer (or at least she's trying) Dance student

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 🌱 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓃 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝒷𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈}}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ 🌱 Sif, the wife of Thor, goddess of the earth. Her life was one forever overshadowed by her husband, whom was always the source of worship and admiration. She knew no different so it wasn't a problem but it felt...lacking. She did love Thor, truly and he was deserving of the honours flourished upon him. But she also couldn't help but be drawn to another, if only from afar. Tyr, god of justice. The greatest of them all, or at least that's what they said. It wasn't about physical attraction (not that he wasn't gorgeous) but that he seemed to know and do what he wanted, when he wanted, and everything he chose to do was always the right thing. It made the young goddess reconsider her own life, one that resided in the shadows, in duty & diligence. The most exciting event being when Loki had chopped off all her hair, something which had frustrated her mostly because of how she'd been unable to stop herself crying about it. The magical golden hair crafted by the dwarves was good and all, but she was still pissed at the trickster. Entirely misjudging what Tyr himself would have done, Sif began to stray from her duties, and mortals began to notice that every few years or so they would have a bad harvest. Sif felt awful about this, of course, and it wasn't really purposeful but curiosity often got the best of her. She couldn't help but explore Asgard and Midgard whenever she got the opportunity. She would watch the other gods and godesses as they went about their duties, wondering if she dare summon up the courage to ask for more. It's not that she wanted to be them, and she never voiced this, but a small part of her did wonder that if they all tried to change, could Ragnarök be stopped? Then, when she was about to tell Thor her wishes, the fall happened... ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ 🌱 When Sif fell she was the perfect wife, a model goddess, a deity of the earth. She had been at the catalyst of change. Then came the dreaded sleep. She would later hear that many others woke and lived out lengthy lives amidst the mortals. But she did not, and whether that was bad or good fortune, she did not know. Her sleep was mainly nothingness, cold and empty, her consciousness barely present. Until she would have nightmares of Ragnarök and the nine realms, and sometimes dreams of Thor & the others. She had both infinite lifetimes and nothing at all. But, when she finally woke, Sif was not the same. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ 🌱 To see what this new life has to offer her, to be the person that she was seeking out prior to the fall. ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ 🌱 Sleep, everlasting sleep.