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[b][center][color=40826D]A N U B I S[/color][/center][/b]
[/h1][/sup][/color][indent][sub][COLOR=40826D][I]Courthouse ⇀ Seattle University[/I][/COLOR][/sub][/indent][indent][sup][right][COLOR=40826D][b]Mood: let's be smart about this... please?[/b][/color][/right][/sup][/indent][hr]
[sup][right] interactions: [@fledermaus] and the room mentions: [@Akayaofthemoon][@Rockette][/right][/sup]
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The whirlwind of elapsed time is stunning even a seasoned courtroom veteran like Anubis. Many times had he been a witness to a derailed case, a cross-examination that hit too close to the heart. Wild accusations of an offender caught by their own words, the feeling of dread that swept over a representative, over a jury that could not vote to their evil heart’s content lest they become targets of “woke” society... in these spaces the dread and hopelessness of others felt like a victory to Anubis.

But in the confined space of the stuffy college meeting room, with tables flipped, mothers and friends wailing and crying in their painful loneliness, it felt suffocating. The weigher of hearts was often a comforter of the dead, a listener to their tales of regrets, how they wished they could have done something, accomplished more, or just simply lived an easier life. These were comfortable conversations for him, a time where he spoke less and heard more. But in the tense silence of Hathir standing at the end of a pistol, he heard nothing and felt the pressure of words clawing up his throat. The wild beat of his heart deafened his ears, his jaw was clenched so tight his teeth could have cracked and he was made a spectator to the unraveling of the gods.

Anubis was a Guide of The Dead, and seer of hearts, he could not predict death reliably, but perhaps the ache in his bones earlier in the day had been an indication of what was to come. Something more specific would have been more appreciated. When his hammering heart finds a peaceful rhythm he regains his confidence, his ears hear everything as if catching up what he missed. The wheels in his mind turn, an automatic reaction to any sort of evidence. Before he can speak the familiar scent of clove and cinnamon are swirling around him, there’s a faint sound of laughter, the feeling of silk slipping along the tips of his finger, and when he closes his eyes [i] her golden irises twinkle like stars in the sky.[/i] The memory makes his heartache, she always felt so close yet so far away from him. The palm of his hand tingles as he folds it into itself, forming a fist and casts his hardened eyes on The Morrigan. 

Anubis can feel the weight of Bastet’s gaze and his heart yearns to get lost in her gaze but he’s focused again on the issue at hand. Choosing his duty over his heart again, he knows it’s cold but he’s embraced it. The Morrigan earns his respect as she commands the room to attention with ease, a Goddess of War she certainly was. Unfortunately, even a seer of fate could not provide all the answers, and without a body to examine they were stuck in their current spot without a way out.

[color=40826D]“I am deeply sorry for your loss.”[/color] Anubis addresses the Greeks first. There had been tension between the two groups in the past but this issue would require cooperation on everyone’s behalf, [color=40826D]“I’m not sure any of the words I can offer will ease any of your hearts. I cannot bring your family back but I would like to suggest we [i]all[/i] cooperate. Cut the unnecessary accusations-“ [/color]Anubis’ hard eyes fell on Loki who was far too relaxed when the news of a dead god had just been brought to their attention,[color=40826D]” and treat each other like allies for the time being. As it stands the only evidence we have to go off of is The Morrigan’s sight, without a body to examine we do not have the cause of death nor the grounds to point fingers and place blame. We should consider having these conclaves on a regular schedule so we can get to the bottom of this and protect each other. I have a very strong feeling the death will not stop at Hephaestus.”[/color]


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