[hr][color=B8A857][sup][h1] [center][img]https://media1.tenor.com/images/51de441499be2d78d9b95b45ffd53a34/tenor.gif?itemid=17766585[/img][/center] [b][center][color=B8A857]BALDR[/color][/center][/b] [/h1][/sup][/color][indent][sub][COLOR=eed853][I]BALDR’S APARTMENT → THE BALL[/I][/COLOR][/sub][/indent][indent][sup][right][COLOR=b8a857][b]nervously pining for a particular death goddess[/b][/color][/right][/sup][/indent][hr] [color=gray][indent][indent] Baldr stood in front of his mirror, fidgeting with a black tie. On the bed behind him, his clothes from the day were piled up, wrinkled and damp with sweat. He’d been doing construction work in one of the neighborhoods in the city before running home and showering, and the mess reflected his rush. Parties always seemed to make him nervous. Once he’d loved them, more than anything in the world. Baldr the Brave was always the guest of honor, adored by all, celebrated for every minor deed. There were no parties in Helheim though. Only him, and Hel, and the legions of the dead, cursed to remain in the frozen reaches of that barren tundra until Ragnarok came. Or so he’d thought. Ragnarok had come early, or it had never gotten the chance to come at all; whatever happened, Baldr was alive now, had been for nearly two thousand years, and he was changed. He’d never quite regained the gregarious nature of his old self. After an eternity with one affectless goddess of the dead, you grew accustomed to the quiet. Tonight though, he’d promised someone he’d attend. She wasn’t his beautiful Wolfsbane, but she seemed to care for him, which was more than he could say about the one who’d stolen his heart. Or was it? He never seemed to know, with her. Duty bound them to opposite sides of an eternal war, and maybe she was right, to choose responsibility over him. Those thoughts only exacerbated old wounds. His tux was finely pressed, an expensive suit that he’d had tucked away in his closet for an occasion like this. The Seattle Redistribution Foundation was not unfamiliar with galas, but Brian Andersen rarely showed his face at such events. Schmoozing was not for him anymore. He couldn’t stand the mummer's game, all the fake smiles and forced laughter. He had good people that worked for him, people who were much better at putting on a mask. Tonight though, he’d force himself to be happy, to be Baldr the Blessed, beloved by all. [center][quote]To: [color=00ced1]Girl With All The Books[/color] [color=B8A857]I’m leaving now. See you there :) [/color][/quote][/center] He slipped his phone back into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, and soon enough, he was [url=https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/proxy/l-aQUf8AVWaKbNiPPD9lekTf-n1dvtiykAk0yEBG3zJkw4p7iauKSxjanaeMWAsH8XKvaOW1mdT9JMSNkN9XD91EYnquEdukjDeNByR9WLjdBgS8uhH7saI]driving[/url] down the freeway, windows down, wind tousling his golden locks. He liked collecting these old cars, rebuilding them. He was often amazed at how fast the mortals seemed to throw things away now. When they’d first arrived on Earth, the people of Istanbul weren’t so terribly different from those he’d once watched over. The people today though, were unrecognizable. Not any less deserving of help, but certainly, much more confusing. He wasn’t surprised by the venue choice. It was decidedly grand, though the stark modern architecture paled in comparison to some of the palaces he’d seen in his many lives. Where was the passion? The heart? Stiff marble reminded him only of a mausoleum, cursed places. The dead were not meant to be entombed in such a horrific fashion. Baldr the Brave stepped from his car, quickly blinded by the flashing of cameras, the shouting of reporters eager to get a scoop on Augustus Kingsley or one of the other famous guests in attendance. He wondered how Seattle would react if they found out most of their celebrities were immortal deities, bound to the earth by some strange magic. Probably not well. He chuckled, and pushed his way to the entrance as the valet took his car. Brian Andersen had little trouble getting past reporters. His charming features weren’t comparable to the superstardom of his peers, and for that, he was grateful. Inside, Baldr’s blue eyes searched the room for two faces, though he found neither there. In fact, it seemed he was early for once, at least in terms of gods. He hadn’t gotten a glimpse of any of his family, and the Vanir seemed just as elusive. Maybe that was for the best. He didn’t need to see her tonight, not when he was trying to accept that whatever he’d imagined between them was just that… imagined. They may share a strange and unusual sort of bond, but it could never be more than that. He took a glass of champagne, and parked himself in a corner where he could see the entrance, watching for his date’s arrival. He hoped that his heart might skip a beat at her appearance, that she would melt the ice that had encased it and remind him who he was, so that he could make her happy, like she deserved. As much as he wished, and hoped and prayed, he still found that unlikely. He’d left his heart in Helheim.[/indent][/indent][/color]