salvation

He was a God, but in no way did he see himself as a model. His body was covered in ribbon like scars from countless battles, his right arm missing the very hand he was meant to be. There were parts of himself that he didn’t like to face, places he often refused to look until it was necessary. She, on the other hand, had no issue seeing every part of him. Even the bad parts. “As you wish, mistress.” With a light bow of his head, he moved on down the hallway. His jeans sitting on his hips as he walked.

Who would she be to deny every part of him? She, who knew battle just as intimately as him. She who ascended to her own holiness. Eir wore both titles, just as he did - and while her flesh knew far fewer scars, she couldn’t help but find his telling of both character and story. Every mar and mark that lingered against his skin only made her that much softer to him. That much more adoring and biased. She quite loved seeing every part of him because she knew every part of them. “Gott drengur,” the familiar words fell from her lips once more- as they often did when she was with him. Following, she held no shame in the way she watched him. No shame in counting every scar that would know the feel of her tongue before sunup. And once they found the safety of her room, she found no shame in the way her hands almost immediately found their place at the curve of his waist. “Now you may strip.”

“I’m only teasing, love..” Archie chuckled, finding her sudden awkwardness somewhat endearing. “Besides, I’m not the one who’s after the important things, you got the wrong guy in the lot.”

She made a little face, the slight touch of color coming to the tips of her ears. “Half of what rambles from me is important.” Her laugh came on the exhale, finding less of a musical note and more of a puff of breath. “And most of that, I don’t really have an end point.”

Moira granted the woman a tight smile as she observed her, making a note of the flowers gathered in her hands. A flash of color at the edge of the clearing caught her eye, quickly realizing just what she had been looking for. Even on her own, going through the motions of training, she had let more suspicious thoughts work their way into her mind. A low laugh escaped her as she shook her head. “Shame. I feel bad going up against the tree. It’s bark puts up a mighty defense, but it’s rather lacking in any offensive measures.” She shook her head. “I much prefer to share meals rather than have them simply prepared for me.”

There was a small snort of a laugh, attention falling to the tree she had just been striking. “I’m fairly certain the tree isn’t the biggest fan of it either.” Amused, Arya moved closer to the other, letting some of the distance between them fall. “there are plenty who would spar with you,” a small pause came, head dipping just slightly, “however, if you find your search empty, then find me. And i will be your partner in the venture.” another laugh came, a lighter one than before. “Oh, the meal would be shared at the table, you would just the honor, i suppose.”

She could bring him to ruins within minutes. From her warm heated words to her delicate touch, he grew weak every time they played together, and every time he saw her after that his fondness would grow. Though he had issues discussing his feelings, he had no problem showing them through touch. Clearly it was something they were both good at. As her fingers went lower, his mind began to run away with him. Eyes rolling back in his head, he tried to catch his tongue in order to speak but her teeth were quick to distract him once more. It was a brief moment before he could use his mouth again. “No.” Tyr spoke softly, his head shaking from side to side as he looked down at the Goddess. “I need all your attention on me. Not other’s who may look. I want you completely.”

He had been, and always would be, a work in progress. Despite her opinion on his already achieved perfection. She had memorized his body a long time ago, but it didn’t stop her from repeating that process each and every time they were together. Outlining every bit of his frame. Touching what she could with both hand and mouth. His was a body she would never forget, but was also a body she would take the time to relearn over and over and over again. The soft tone of his words caused the low rumble of a hum to start down in the depths of her chest. “gráðugur drengur,” she made sure to match his tone, to keep her words just as light - if not even more so. “Then I suggest you walk and quit playing games with me where you’re not prepared to kneel.”

Moira huffed, her breathing heavy as she looked at the cut marks in the tree in front of her, allowing her shield to fall to the ground behind her. Her eyes scanned the clearing, thinking she had heard someone moving in the forest. She probably could have been taking care of this back at her home, but there was always something more rewarding to her to strike out on her own, to train without the equipment furnished at her home. Just the cool metal of her sword and the quiet of the trees. But it seemed that someone else had come to disrupt the balance. “You know, if you want to try your hand at sparring with me, you can just ask. If you’re trying to catch me turning into a crow, I’d suggest you at least invite me to dinner before I start turning tricks for you.”

She was no stranger to the feel of a sword in her hand. The valkyrie turned goddess had an intimate relationship with war and all of its related companions. Granted, it was a bit different a relationship than most tied to war, but she knew it all the same. That side of her was one that rarely made appearances on the island. Save for the pieces of leather and metal strewn about on her bedroom floor, evidence of her trips to the mainland, the battle worn bit of Arya rarely felt the warmth of the island sun. Footsteps were soft against the earth as she skittered the edge of the clearing. It wasn’t her intention to interrupt anyone, but the flowers she wanted grew right there on the brink of the clearing. But she hadn’t made it far before she was called out, and the goddess stepped through, her smaller frame coming into sight. “Sparring is the last thing I wish to do.” Words were giving on a laugh, light and airy. Brows knitted a bit, the few flowers she already had in her hands twirled. “If you wish for food, I’ll gladly fix ou a meal, but finding form as a crow isn’t necessary.”

first and foremost, my bad for being so sketch recently. i just started a new job last week, and adjusting shecules has been tough for me? Going from an inconsistent, food service based schedule to that of a very consistent, not food service based schedule has fucked me up more than i’d like to admit.

However, I think i’m getting a decent enough hold on it. Either that, or I’m gonna have to pull the ol’ fake it till you make it care.

Anywho, I’m going to drop pre-event threads. So if anyone would like to start a new thread with any of the following, give this a like, or comment and i’ll come to you for a few deets.

Arya

Leo ( @frxmstrength )

Adrik ( @cherncbog )

Unlike the others, Tyr wasn’t losing his mind about the current situation. He was worried, of course. Worried about where they are, worried about all of the others that had been left behind and what may follow them, but he wasn’t showing any sign of his true feelings. As always his exterior was steel and cold. As he knew that it wouldn’t help anyone to be anything otherwise.

“You know,” He walked up behind Eir after following her silently for awhile. “for once I wish you and Freya were wrong about things.”

Panic was a state she knew the taste of well. She was intimate with the notion of the battlefield, though albeit more the aftermath of it all, not smack dab in the middle of it. The laugh she let out in response was more of a bark than her normal. Unexpected on her end just as much, and turning back ahead of her, she leaned back against the tree.

“As do I, gæludýrið mitt.” A hand lifted, held out for him to take, or to join her. In the midst of chaos, there was no one else she’d rather have at her side than him. “Learned anything?”

“I don’t think any one of us has answers,” the blonde replied. Chaos wasn’t really Idun’s thing. She’d been captured by giants before by Loki’s hand, then again the jackass had actually rescued her in the end. Even if he did do it by turning her into a nut. Biting her full bottom lip. There was that lingering thought, was it Loki just fucking with them again? Was he behind all this and was it even real or just an illusion. Bringing a perfectly manicured hand up to massage her temples. “We can figure this out - I don’t do well in a cage.” When it came to fellow Gods and Goddesses she used her Norse name, for followers and the like, she was Orchid. I did manage to turn the cage’s bars into vines and free myself…maybe if we go around freeing one another we can talk rationally about what in Odin’s name has happened. 

Eyeing the blonde, Eirs attention shifted back to the open space in front of her, a long exhale following the other’s words. “No one does well in a cage, Idun.” she appreciated her attempt, though. A goddess of spring stepping forward more calmly than some of the others was surprising, but the Norse were anything but weak. A smile flickered though, went as quickly as it came. Eir looked then, turned to peek at the people huddled  around. “Maybe it best we leave a few of them in there... let those who know this panic to sort it out.”

“I’m not going to say this again.” She was clearly irritated, but not by the person standing next to her. It was the situation, this newfound helplessness. It was a foreign feeling, one that had been creeping up since they’d arrived. Now, it was just choosing to rear its ugly head. “But how the fuck did we get here, and more importantly, how do we leave…” 

“I have no more answers than the next,” the words came out the moment she heard footsteps, a lack of concern toward whoever was coming up behind her.

Despite the height difference between them, Eir was extremely intimidating in moments such as this. The way she looked at him, the sultriness of her words, it didn’t matter how many times they would play this game as every time he would start to feel a tad shy. She knew exactly how to get under his skin and curl her slim fingers around that string inside of him that was made for submission. Where everyone else would see the warrior, she seemed to see something else much deeper. “It’s probably best if-” His mouth began to quiver as her fingers barely touched his covered member. Fuck, why did she have to be so damn good at this? “Room. Take me to a room, please.”

She quite enjoyed the height difference, found those taller fell far easier when instructed and he was no different. There was more to him than the god of war, there was a need to escape. To wear any other title than that one. To have the burdens of the world not weight on his shoulders. It was something she could give easily, and something he would allow her to give, and she would take the opportunity each and every time he needed it. His request for the room came too late, however. And fingers continued to make their way over him, nails dancing over every inch she could touch like this, and then fingers moved lower still, dipping down completely between his legs. “I don’t think I heard you, elskan. You don’t want me to fuck you out here?” Head dipped in and teeth nipped at his shirt, purposefully catching skin between fabric and pearly whites.

Dimona put her hands at her sides, noticing that someone had walked away from the other woman. 

She noticed the other woman was left confused. “That’s alright. Are you doing okay?”

Oliver wasn’t completely open about who he was to everyone, not everyone needed to know that he was Poseidon after all. He listened to the woman speak bu this face held a look of a bit of confusion. “Please continue—who did you think I was though. I can pretend to be them if you’d like—i’m told i’m quite good company”.