[center][color=BF225D][sup][h1][center][img]https://64.media.tumblr.com/542abd17dc911635b5b8f6a6ca81c307/63a14243be3fe5d6-34/s500x750/252973e64360e8a0e5d70f32011229eedf21d360.gifv[/img][/center]
[b][center][color=BF225D]FREYA[/color][/center][/b]
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[right][color=B2BEB5]Feat. Xolotl[/color] [@beetlemoth][/right][/color][/center][hr][hr]
[indent][indent][color=gray]...This isn’t normal, right?

It’s a weeknight, and Xolotl was sitting in a limousine headed towards another gathering of gods; this time, organized by Jupiter, of all people. The Aztec god hadn’t pegged him as the type to throw such lavish parties with such poor timing, though he supposed he simply didn’t know the self-proclaimed [i]‘King of Gods’[/i] as well as he thought.

Truth be told, after seeing how well the most recent Conclave went, Xolotl had all but promised himself that he was going to wash his hands of the whole affair.

…Obviously, things hadn’t worked out exactly the way he’d hoped, thanks to a certain Norse goddess currently sitting to his side.

He should be working, he thinks, or at the very least, coming up with some way to guard himself and his kin against the supposed god-killer on the loose. Yes, he knew that the death and life of gods was commonplace, a natural cycle dictated by the very cosmos they all resided in, but things change —– things [i]have[/i] changed; and he wasn’t about to stand by and let his kin be slaughtered by a faceless killer.

Of course, Xolotl still thinks that this whole thing is a [i]terrible[/i] idea.

Every god in Seattle all crammed into one place… what could possibly go wrong?

[b][color=B2BEB5]“Remind me [i]why[/i] we’re even going to this thing, again?”[/color][/b] His words are heavy with the beginnings of a sigh, spilling sluggishly from his lips like smoke. He’s annoyed, that much is certain, and his fingers are just [i]itching[/i] for a cigarette, but after a moment’s hesitation, he stops himself. The car was a rental and he didn’t want to stink it up.

The Norse goddess let out an exasperated sigh. When she had asked Xolotl to be her date to Jupiter’s charity ball, she had expected the Aztec god to go about it as he usually did: playing along with her crazy ideas. She had anticipated a night of fine dining and cocktails, rubbing shoulders with the Seattle elite while showing each other off in the process, and culminating their evening with a good toss between the sheets. But prying the man away from his desk early on a weeknight and dragging him to the event was easier said than done. The closer the date, the deeper Xolotl seemed to dig his heels into the ground, and the more aggressive Freya had to get with her [s]manipulation[/s] tactics of convincing. After what felt and seemed like a monumental effort, in the end she had managed to get him groomed to perfection, squeezed into a dapper-looking suit, and ushered into the limousine that was already waiting at his front door. To hear that he was once again questioning the motives behind their attendance, as if she hadn’t already listed them a million times before, made her bristle with annoyance.

[color=BF225D]“I could give you a few reasons,”[/color] Freya replied in a monotonous tone, raising a fist in Xolotl’s direction and lifting a finger for each reason offered. [color=BF225D]“One: you desperately needed a break away from the office before you work yourself into a comatose state (you really do abuse that godly stamina in being such a workaholic, you know that?). Two: it’s better to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. And three: because this might be that chance of a lifetime you've been waiting for to finally reconnect with that beloved underworld goddess of yours.”[/color]

Xolotl doesn’t say a word, simply listening to Freya speak with a flat, sullen look on his face. He could argue, say that he happened to work the perfect amount for what he was trying to accomplish, and that he would rather put as much distance between himself and his enemies as possible; but while he might loathe to admit it, the Norse goddess did indeed make a point —– several, in fact.

[b][color=B2BEB5]“…That’s fair.”[/color][/b] Xolotl concedes with a sigh, as if greatly put-upon. It wasn’t like him to be so [i]theatrical[/i] with his grievances, but that was the sort of behavior Freya brought out in him. And besides, he wasn’t about to let himself do something as stupid as get his hopes up. The last time he saw Mictēcacihuātl… It had to have been decades ago.

[i]No use dwelling in the past[/i], he tells himself.

[b][color=B2BEB5]“I’d just hate to make a habit out of it.”[/color][/b]

All this pomp and needless frippery. He didn’t feel the need to point out exactly what [i]‘it’[/i] was. At times, it seemed as if all the Romans saw fit to pride themselves on was their unrelenting penchant for excess. Xolotl decides then to practice hiding his disdain behind questions, [i]deflecting[/i]. And quite frankly, he is rather curious about Freya’s own motivations for attending the ball.

[b][color=B2BEB5]“What about you? Anyone you’ll be looking out for once we’re there?”[/color][/b] His words are casual, offhanded, though the sideways look he shoots Freya is anything but, nor is the smile that briefly crosses his lips. [b][color=B2BEB5]“You were awfully persistent about going. I can’t imagine you’d subject yourself to something like this on my account.”[/color][/b]

Freya did not answer Xolotl’s question immediately. Instead, she took another moment to really think about her justifications for attending this ball. She could say that, as a socialite and important member of the Norse pantheon, her presence was almost to be expected, and that her absence would bring about the wrong kinds of attention. And, party, she would be right. But a half-truth was still an attempt at self-deception. Why would she be almost mandated to attend events like balls hosted by Romans, but got a pass when purposely skipping conclaves, in which topics of much more importance were discussed?

No: the sole reason for Freya’s appearance at this gala had a name and a face… One she hadn’t seen in centuries; but one that haunted her dreams, and one she was hoping she’d be over after tonight.

[color=BF225D]“Let’s just say you’re not the only one facing the ghosts of the past tonight…”[/color] she mused, letting out a sigh while turning to stare through the window at the roads and vehicles passing by. [color=BF225D]“I’m hoping to catch a glimpse of Janus this evening. As foolish as it may be, and as much as I know it will hurt, I’m certain it’s something I must do in order to free myself of these decaying chains and move on forward. In fact, it’s something I should’ve done ages ago,”[/color] she concluded, looking back at the Aztec god with a melancholic smile.

[color=BF225D]“Usually I’d get my darling Patty to be my wingman for events like these. But seeing as he’s... [i]unavailable[/i] at the moment, I went with the only other man I trust.”[/color] she said with a small shrug. Normally, it was Pluto’s presence that would keep Freya calm and grounded during trying situations like these. But her beloved partner in crime was still in prison; dressed in an unflattering orange jumpsuit and sitting behind the cold iron bars of the same concrete cell he had occupied for the last five years (or twenty, if you counted the previous fifteen years he’d spent at a Washington facility before his transfer to Seattle). [color=BF225D]“And who needs the moral support just as much as I do, I might add.”[/color]

Before Xolotl could respond with more than a noncommittal grunt, the luxurious vehicle transporting the couple came to a stop right in front of the red carpet. Blinding white flashes shone through the tinted windows of the limousine, while a crowd of elegantly-dressed photographers and reporters could be seen waiting behind the velvet ropes, faces and cameras pointed and eagerly awaiting the reveal of which influential individual was making their presence known at the glamorous event.

[color=BF225D]“It’s showtime,”[/color] she told the Aztec male with a smile, just in time for the suited-up driver to open the door and graciously assist her in exiting the vehicle.

At once, the camera flashes went into a frenzy, accompanied by a sea of shutter clicks and deafening voices calling out for Seattle’s favorite socialite Astrid Wexler to look one way or another, give a smile, or disclose the details of what she was wearing. And for the next few minutes, the smirking brunette gave the crowd exactly what they wanted: greeting reporters and correspondents alike, posing for photos and conceding small interviews here and there. Once their appetites for curiosity had been mildly satisfied, the young woman waved at the crowd and sauntered off into the ballroom, [url=https://data.whicdn.com/images/330482687/original.jpg]the long train of her black dress[/url] trailing behind her.

The lady of the Norse pantheon had finally arrived.[/color][/indent][/indent]