. : * ᴄʟᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ.

Stepping into the small shop, Sera heard a high-pitched chime. Seeing the cleverly decorated shop made the female suddenly aware that her hair was an unbrushed mess and her shirt was wrinkled. She brushed her shirt out and walked around the shop, browsing aimlessly. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure exactly what had made her step inside except for curiosity. She’d been living in Attica for a few weeks now and had recently decided that exploring would make it feel more like home. Sera looked up as the shopkeeper approached her. “Alcohol and sugar? My two favorites. Sign me up,” she said, motioning to a red velvet and a chocolate cupcake.

“Casino Royale. I haven’t watched that in quite a while.” James Bond was definitely one of his quilty pleasures having watched all 24 movies growing up. en. He grabbed himself a slice of pizza, hungry and glad he wouldn’t have to cook for the night. Taking the offered movie with his other hand he struggled to open it. “Do you mind?” He asked offering the movie back over. “You can pop it in and I’ve got a pizza to devour.”

Brent chuckled, gesturing for her to take a seat if she so desired. “For you. Although you’re always welcome to ask me questions if you have any.” He picked up his notebook and opened it up to the pages hugging his pen. “I just want to get a good idea of your current fitness level so we can set some goals.” He took on leadership surprisingly easily, when he was in the environment that necessitated it. Brent was usually one to hang back, but it was here, training people, where he set the pace. “So, first question, why you want to start training?”

a breathy laugh,   a saccharine sound, pushes through azalea tinted lips, at the mention of her   fitness   level. she's made the   effort   to hit the gym at least   twice   a week before she came to america. though, those efforts soon faded, especially after the move to washington d.c. she got even   worse   when she came to attica, figuring the five minute walk from the bakery to her apartment is   enough   for exercise.  ❝  oh, that's easy,  ❞  she speaks, waving a hand in a dismissive manner.  ❝  i'm on, like, level zero. with maybe fifty   xp.   ❞

         Rejects of the batch,  huh?   Alexander supposed that made four of them then.  Alexander held the box, fingers curling upwards, palm holding the bottom.    “Well, no one’s place is far from anywhere around here.”  Not that he should be one to talk. He wasn’t exactly from a big city himself.    He didn’t mind that Attica was small, he couldn’t imagine a bigger city housing the sons and daughters of Greek gods (not that they would have had the choice, based on the things Alexander knew).    “So, blondie, how long have you been in Attica?”

Macey’s eyes followed where she was pointing, “That’s amazing. I was just gonna get one, but now I feel like I need one of each. It’s perfect, like, sit on your couch in pajamas bingewatching something on netflix food.” Granted, she had had too many of those nights since arriving in town, and wasn’t quite sure if she needed reason for more. “Did you make them?”

          “Well, I’m offering, so hand over the cupcake.”  Alexander extended his arm, palm upward, and bent his fingers inwards towards himself as he spoke.   “So, you heading to a birthday party or something? Or do you just have an exceptional sweet tooth?”  Alexander would be lying if he were to say he wasn’t a big fan of sugary treats himself, but his sweet tooth had mellowed out in the past few years. He assumed that, since the desert had killed his soul it had taken his taste buds with it.

Hermes: Something goes wrong, and you blame me! After all these years where’s the trust, Athena?!

Athena: [looks at him]

Alexius usually did have alcohol, nothing big but something he’d have a glass of at the end of a day. “I have wine and whiskey we can enjoy later.” Shutting the door behind her he came over sitting on the couch beside her. “So these are supposedly better than last time?” Honestly he wasn’t picky over movies, enjoying the content more than anything. “Historical is rather cliche. So action, they usually have a good story and actors.”

  “It might be offensive, though that’s cause you are defensive, but doesn’t mean it wasn’t honest.” replying to her with a smug tone. “I mean strategy doesn’t mean anything if it involves your heart…people aren’t chess pieces you know.” taunting her just as playfully as she was with him. The daughter of Athena was a familiar face, even if her name wasn’t but this was Xavier first real time talking to her. Usually their dialogue was always about ‘keeping it open or closed’ or ‘two or three shots’. Minor and professional was all they shared, though something told him that was going to change. “Apple margarita it is.” nodding his head while he stepped back from the counter top. Ember, unlike other bars, held the densest amount of Hecate children—meaning that their bartending was more of a show than just delicious.

     So while his finger tips sparking with some of his energy, he rolled his hand causing the instruments he needed to float and move in front of him with ease. Apple vodka and their house mixed margarita swirled around him in ribbons of liquid and grace, until they splashed together then poured into his mixer. Xavier gave a few shakes of glass then rimmed Arabella’s glass with lime sugar before pouring for her. “There you go love.” sliding it closer for her.

❝  i bet i can prove you wrong.   or perhaps they'll say no, thinking i'm their   sibling.  ❞  there is a smirk that lightens her features, making her appear more   mischievous   than she normally is. her fingers are behind her ear, toying with jewelry that tangles just half an inch below the lobe as she takes another peek at the group of aphrodite's children. she doesn't mean her words a bit, though she does often wonder who'll think she's   special   enough to have half of aphrodite's blood running through her veins; she wonders who'll think she's enough to start a war over if she asks.

Athena: No! What's wrong with you? Their families hate each other.

Aphrodite: I'm the goddess of love I can make this work.

*Romeo and Juliet kill themselves*

Athena: ...

              Dark eyebrows narrow together in concern.   “Cupcakes?  Well now, we wouldn’t want those to fall.  It would be the latest travesty.  I’m talking front-page:  breaking news girl drops cupcakes,”  hands spread out in front of him as if he’s reading from a sign.   He laughs, he is only kidding. After all a dropped cupcake is one of true tragedies of life: especially if they’re from a professional bakery as it seems the ones this girl is carrying are.  “Did you want help?  Looks like you could quite literally use a third hand.”  

The sound of her shoes lightly hitting the floor indicated her arrival, and Brent turned around to face the woman. She was right on time, the hands on Brent’s watch pointing to the exact start of the hour. He smiled warmly, reaching out a hand for a shake. “I am. You must be Arabella.”

She was quiet, at least at the moment— soft smile and eyes with a bit of uncertainty. Some people were just as eager as he, sometimes even more so, but most were still getting used to the idea of personal trainer. Brent knew to expect it after these few months. “I’m excited to start working with you. Can we start with a couple of questions?”

she doesn't know what to expect,   every thought she had of her trainer since she signed up is made up of stereotypes she's seen in films   ------   most likely   forceful,   with a loud voice  &  a terrible way of   motivating   their trainees. but the man in front of her doesn't seem   too   bad, though of course she'll have to wait to   know   for a fact if he falls under that stereotype. for now, she extends a hand,  &  shakes his.  ❝  it's nice to met you. i can't wait to get started.  ❞

Corvus wasn’t so much of a fan of bakeries as he was of getting something nice to eat with his daily Sahlab. Truth to be told, that was the only reason he got off his way and stopped by that shop in the first place, months ago, but once he tried to get the owner talking and have a friendly environment for him to get back to when needed, Corvus found out there was no way Attica would miracously bring luck to his path. Arabella Elliot, the owner, was no where near the interest of having small talk here and there. Weird was to see, then, she talking to Corvus before he had the chance to do so. ”Oh, I know, sweetheart. I come by to get those beauties pretty much every chance I get, remember?” and he smiled, hard. Because there was an irony to it that Corvus couldn’t quite get enough of. Arabella didn’t like him, never even gave him a chance, and though he was half way through his 30s and waving hello to his 40s, Corvus Callahan was still the youngest child in his family, a master in the art of annoyance. What a pity that Arabella became his victim… or maybe not, really. “So… how’s your day? Did anything good happened for you to actually talk to me before I said anything?”

the bakery had been recommended by one of the servers at the bar; raving about red velvet cupcakes, and cinnamon apple cake, and samuel always managed to completely butcher at cupcake he produced. cheesecake, a cinch. ice cream, he had that covered since he was ten and his mother brought home an old fashioned ice cream maker. cup cakes, however? were always, without fail, either under baked, burnt, or too dry. so when he was wondered over towards the nearest display, and began to inspect the beautifully decorated, and probably delicious, cupcakes he hadn’t bothered to even check the sign.  ❛  oh!  ❜  hand clasped to his chest as though he were an startled old lady,  ❛  thank you actually! seeing as they’re for a ten year old, that may have been important to know.  ❜  samuel offered the girl a small smile, feeling suddenly shy and a bit embarrassed, his cheeks flushing red. he swallowed away his self-consciousness to focus on the task at hand. he had begun to offer art classes to children and teens to pick up a little extra cash, and timothy and him had become close these past few months they’ve been working together. his mother having signed him up to help the boy through his anxiety through art, and when samuel had heard his birthday was tomorrow, he had the brilliant idea of questioning the boy on his favorite baked goods and flavors. chocolate cupcakes with marshmallow icing had soon become the verdict.  ❛  do you have any recommendations for a little boy who loves chocolate and dinosaurs? i kind of made a birthday promise.  ❜