Link scrunched his nose as Tai laughed, head tilting as he looked back up toward him and shifting from foot to foot. “Savage? You make it sound like I’m a fuckin’ caveman.” He mumbled, glancing back at himself briefly before his shoulders came up, shrugging lightly. “I… Alright.” He let out hesitantly, “I guess you’re right, it can’t hurt… Just… I throw everything in the wash together, yeah? So nothing that’s gonna get all… fucked up that way. You look like someone who sorts their laundry.” 

“No - no, I’m genuinely curious, please go on. Designed to basically fill the…?” He was being genuine; Emile wanted to know the rest of the story. Even if he was bored by it, he hated it when people stopped telling a story halfway through. Everything ought to be told to completion, in their opinion, even if it is something as mundane as why tea sandwiches are called that. They handed over the amount that they owed for the book, then slipped their wallet back into their pocket. “I guess that’s true. It would be a lot easier if we weren’t our biggest critic, right? And some… power, or whatever, said no, people ought to struggle, so now we have to wake up every day and pay taxes while billionaires don’t, which is fucked up in its own right.”

Let you what? He wanted to ask, completely confused as to what the other asked for. If it wasn’t the picture frame… then maybe it was –

A light click, click, click of talons nails crept along the corridor behind him. Curious was she to see what all of the hubbub was about. 

Normally, Emil wouldn’t have an issue with the kipine’s general presence, because she always kept herself tucked away just out of sight.  This time, though..

This time he wasn’t so sure.

Emil rounded the corner of the desk to stand in front of the lady; drawn up to his full height without a a slouch. “Demons? You know about Jimmy, too? Listen, he’s not as horrible as people make him out to be… so long as you don’t get on his nerves, serve him anything below the temp of, like, a fuckin’ hundred degrees Fahrenheit, walk too loudly, sneeze too loudly– breathe too loudly..” His words trailed off as he acknowledged just how terrible the oldest resident truly was.

“Okay, so he’s pretty fuckin’ crotchety, but he’s no demon. Just a widower that uses his grief as a means to be irritating to other folks.”

SHE CAN HEAR IT, too. There is no mistaking the sound once you really know the difference, not to mention that thing holds a certain presence that will always rattle bones. A softer sigh, watching the way he purposely seems intent to hide it before giving an almost exhausted sigh. “Listen, he’s a demon and we both know it.” She places a smaller hand on her hip, giving him an earnest look before finally taking an entire side step to get a better look at the kipine, or at least try to.

A crude, airy noise left him in agreement. “Might as well have. Move over Hamlet, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet– there’s a new epic tragedy that’s lasted well over an eon. Labeled something like Where The Fuck Are Your Taste Buds? or some shit.” 

“What’s the most offensive dish someone’s tried to make you eat?” 

     Eyes watched as the piece was removed from her hair, and said strands were promptly tucked behind her ear. It happened to be more often than not that she ignored others when they so clearly spotted her — today she simply chose to go ahead and mess with Baptiste. YOLO, or whatever. “Depends,” Luci drew in a dramatic breath, head cocking to the side slightly, “what’re you planning to feed me?”

“No. No. Not names — intentions.” If he were less comfortable, or maybe just less stoned, he might be feeling a little less spicy. “Affirmations, if you will.” The jokes wouldn’t come so easily, and he definitely wouldn’t be rising to the bait at every turn. “You ever stand behind a fuckin’ grill all day with your balls doing that whole fuckin’… what are they called?” Pause. “Newton’s cradle, but only two balls. Not a whole fuckin’ army of them.” New goal: never fucking smoke on the job again. Ever. “Me neither. Point fucking is, I’m a boxer-brief kind of guy — commitment issues. You look like you got your shit together, though. Means briefs.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do anything fun, I assumed you had an allergy.” A frown pulled at the corners of Link’s mouth and he shifted to sit, plopping into the seat next to Cain and pushing lightly at the dragon’s shoe with his own before retreating, crossing his arms in front of himself protectively. “It’s not fun if I have to explain it.” He wasn’t even sure where he would start, either, “Her face when I dropped down there, I thought she was gonna kill me- and I almost broke my nose, Cain, it’s exciting- that, uh, adrenaline shit.” He tried, shaking his head and looking up toward the other man, “Is that fucked up? That’s probably fucked up.”

“Fair enough.” The lapels of her coat were pulled tighter once met with chilled air. A hum, drawn low and quiet, accompanied the next few steps. “The most over the top, grossly sugared out shake. I’m talking fully decked out with toppings, syrup– everything that my ten step skin regime will hate.”

This is perhaps one of the oddest conversations that Emile has had in a while. He assumes that this person - whoever they are - aren’t a fed, or somebody willing to turn him over to the feds for thoughts that were basically an expanded version of eat the rich. “I mean, if it’s arson, nobody gets hurt. And, yeah, I mean, why do people go to bonfires? The show, but also the warmth. It’s kind of fucked up to, like, want to roast marshmallows over a burning Maserati, but… there’s that. Symbols of wealth are, like… gaudy and ridiculous - no one actually needs them. It’s just society’s way of saying some people are better than other people because those better people have money. It’s dumb.” They shake their head, rubbing at the back of their neck. “Fuck society’s claims that some people are better than others solely because of what’s in their bank account.”

Fenrir just wanted to understand. He had adored Tyr and trusted him. Was prophecy more important than family? Friends? In the end, no matter what he said, it was still hard to truly be angry at Tyr. It was much easier to release his rage on Odin instead - who was no where to be seen. Probably off hunting any other wolf that could be a threat to them.

Still, he stayed tucked against the other and took in their scent - a scent that reminded him of his childhood and a much happier time. “Humans have it much easier, don’t they?”

THEY ALMOST CHUCKLED AT THE INCLINATION THAT HUMANS HAD IT EASIER. They knew better though, knew their son would not take kindly to that whole thing. Instead, there was a moment taken, where they held him tight enough to make sure there was no room for doubt, before letting go. “No, everyone’s struggle is different, but no one is without one. Humans problems just seem far more...trivial to us.” They shrugged.

Stepping out of the Waffle Shop, Senan let out an exasperated sigh. The risk of going there and ended up someplace else was always a factor. Thankfully, it seemed the other customers were equally as confused. “Where do you think it dropped us off this time?”

The knock on the door took her by surprise. The Morrigan was so deep in her work, so careful with her sewing of the poor cadaver in front of her, she had barely even heard the music playing loudly from the gramophone in her office. Lifting her head, the Morrigan frowned and laid down the needle and thread, pausing. Another knock sounded and she sighed softly, whispered her apologies to the old woman on her slab and snapping of the latex gloves to toss in the bin. After a quick pump of alcohol gel onto her hands, she hurried for the door “Just coming-” she called out, rubbing her hands together and then shaking of the access. 

The Morrigan opened the door of her shop with a smile, still wearing the heavy leather apron around her neck, hair swept back in a neat chignon to keep fly aways out of her eyes while she worked. The air was heavy with the smell of pine and lilies grown deep in valleys. It masked the formaldehyde well, but that scent still lingered light as a kiss in the air. The Morrigan glanced up at her visitor, eyes old as the hills and pale as a corpse she said “-how may i help you?”

SHE WAS FAMILIAR IN THE WAY THAT she felt like home, but not quite. It was probably due to the way that fate mingled in both of them, that it touched parts of them that created a crude sort of kindred spirit. He didn’t read too much into it, considering that the world had not intended for him to be cut from the same cloth, but instead it was forced upon him like a mystery he certainly did not consent to unraveling. Regardless, there would always be a reason that he would find himself coming back, warmth pulled right out of what should have been the cold and somber. A sigh pushed passed lips, temporary solemn look folding lip into teeth as it rolled, before speech would follow behind.

“Did I ever like it to begin with?”. The teasing didn’t stop, and Senan was happy for that. His days were often long and dreary, with very little communication with other living things. Just having Baptiste there, with his stupid nicknames, brought some liveliness to Senan’s otherwise dead life. 

Senan laughed, reaching for Baptiste’s hand just to hold it. “Why would I do that if I have you? You’re more than enough for me. Unless you’re thinking of finding yourself a new one”.

IF YOU WOULD HAVE TOLD HIM, that this was going to happen decades ago he would have laughed in your face. But Senan was special, now, and there was no denying that. The sound of his laughter was a favorite song, the lines in his smile were close to perfection, even the softness of that hand that took his was a touch that embodied affection. It roused an honest smile from him, creating warmth in his chest as he squeezed hand for a moment before chuckling.

Ayda had her own flare for dramatics. What one considered to be over the top wasn’t always so with the dragon. But Cain, he was the one place where she didn’t have to reign in that flare. That she could express as needed without fear of public repercussion. Granted, there were certain things he wouldn’t let her live down, of course, but that was life with them. His initial question caused a brief pause - consideration to the idea. Could they make the whole town into a freak show? One that could, specifically, make money off of? After a second, she shook her head, bringing her back to the present conversation.

“Nothing, I’m just making a point. I need one.”

“Considering who you are, it is probably best you don’t get a drinking problem.” Chaos and alcohol? Probably not a good idea. It would be funny though. Fenrir drank on occasion, but usually not enough to get drunk. There was no telling what could happen and someone could easily get eaten.

As arms were wrapped around him, he wasn’t sure whether he should cry or not. His heart beat faster and his tail dig a weak wag as he buried his face against Romeo. “I just…” He felt tears prick at his eyes. “Why do people betray me? I didn’t do anything, and then he…he helped them. I thought he cared for me.”

ARMS MOVED, readjusting to hold him just a bit tighter at the question that managed to weave its way into Romeos chest. They hated the way it too, effortlessly played at heart strings. Instead of focusing on the hurt, however, they focused on the anger at what had been done, what had been ruined, what had been taken. It wasn’t only from Vidar, but from Romeo too, from all of them. They weren’t going to try and examine Tyr’s motives for this, and instead shook their head.

 Her attention was, at the moment, completely overtaken with the trinket in hand. Delicate fingers were careful as they spun the only moving piece and her gaze, though soft and still full of wonder, couldn’t find a place it wanted to remain. “Tease,” she whispered before those eyes finally bounced back up to the other. “What would you want for it, Ki?” Her hands lowered, trinket safely cradled against her chest. “What favors could I possibly give you these days?” Taking a step toward them, she was practically humming with excitement.

That was the excitement she craved, the rush that came from the bargaining. 

“Maybe I could interest you in a meal in exchange, something from home?”

EIR WAS EVER THE INNOCENT, at least in some since. She carried a purity that was admirable instead of irritating, a sort of breath of fresh air that not even Romeo could deny. Usually, Loki preferred to find what was wrong with this, to dismantle it, but they found that they would give entirely too much to keep her whole. That was ignored, however, and instead a chuckle was given at the suggestion of a meal.

They blink at the next question, opening their mouth, and then closing it. Emile supposes he’s never noticed him talking around himself. “Um,” they start, reaching up to rub at the back of their neck. “Both, maybe?” They’d picked up a lot of defense mechanisms since moving here, since leaving their hometown. One needed defense mechanisms to survive the unknown, and, seemingly, everything here was unknown. Emile didn’t really know anyone, despite the fact that he knew most everyone’s name. It was forward of them to ask him that question, though, and he’ll give them points for that. One illegal thing? “Can I say kill a CEO? Like, billionaires and shit. They deserve it. If not that, arson, but on, like, an empty building where people won’t get hurt. Or on the CEO’s house. ‘Cause, like, that asshole deserves it.”