#convo:anders

The place was in its typical state of disarray, pots in drawers, kettle in the fridge, clothes folded under the sink. Emre came by at least once a week, he didn’t have many friends and he knew that Anders wasn’t exactly coping well with joining the undead. The reaper had lived among the Haljesta for years as a witch; Emre knew how Anders valued his Valhalla. “It stinks in here.” Emre said as he lifted a pot and sniffed at it, something was thick and charred on the bottom of it, he dropped it in the sink and wondered what a vampire was even doing cooking. “Open a window or something.”

“Your accent-” Ørjan noted, they’d recognize it anywhere but did not want to be too obvious. Once long ago they had spent significant time among the Haljesta when Fenrir had opted to lay down his significant burden. It had been disappointing for the oneiroi, if only because the spirit had glimpsed Ragnarok and was waiting for the day when the dreaded wolf would devour Odin whole. “Swedish?” The oneiroi asked, “Forgive me for eavesdropping on you and your uh-” they gestured, “friend here, but I couldn’t help but notice. Don’t see many Scandinavians this far South.” His Greek was shit, but there were nicer ways of saying it.

They’d come all the way from Sweden to learn of what had happened to Anders and why the Lykos hadn’t returned with Hakon’s remains as he was intended to. And what Arvid found instead was that while Hakon now lived once more, Anders did not. The witch kept his distance from him even now, unsure of what the vampire might do if Arvid got too close. It would have been easy to write the man off, he was a monster now, wasn’t he? Technically dead, at least. The family would have a funeral for him, vampires had no place in their coven. “I always looked up to you, you know.” Arvid was younger, but the head family seemingly had everything. The prodigal daughter, the capable son, another witch as a spare. Arvid’s place was among the dead, just as his father’s had been before him. For so long he wanted what they had - power, position, authority. He’d have killed Hel herself to get it. Now he just felt sorry for them, Arvid was free, and in a way he supposed Anders was too. 

The sounds of slurping and sucking were unmistakable over the equally distinct smell of blood in the air. He lingered on the precipice of the alleyway and waited, gluttonous intake often led to untimely deaths. While Giovanni may have been a vampire, he mastered control centuries prior and had long forsaken any monstrous monickers. “Careful,” Giovanni cautioned as he took a few measured steps towards the individuals, “you take much more and you’ll kill her.”

 In better condition then when they last saw each other, Dante was rested and recovered, much in part thanks to Anders who had stayed with him while the genasi was at his weakest. Dionysus’s Bar was one of his favourite haunts, so when he asked his brother out their destination was a pool table at the back of the room. Things had been quiet lately, quiet enough that he felt comfortable in the thought that there was no big doom hanging above the city and that they just might make it through the holidays without another catastrophe. Dante loved Christmas, normally he just used it as an excuse to buy himself a lot of very expensive things, and made snow angels, but this year he was planning on drinking his weight in eggnog as well.

“What do you want for Christmas?” Dante asked, he had yet to be to his brother’s place, but there had to be something that Anders wanted. “I already bought us matching sweaters.” 

“Anders!” Cole exclaimed, how long had it been since the spirit had seen the dire wolf shifter? Gods knew, but that hardly mattered, the man was in typically fine form - hunched over a bar and polishing off another whatever it was that he was drinking. The oneiroi typically disliked mortals, but this shifter in particular was especially pliable, his dreams were a drunk disarray and that left his mind in a similar state of dampness. Like putty. “Last time I saw you I thought for sure you were going to die in that ditch.” Cole shook their head idly, there was a lie in there somewhere about the spirit’s own identity, but they couldn’t really remember it. Anemos was better at that sort of thing. “Glad you crawled your way out, why Greece?”

The other’s place was a typical mess, but it wasn’t as bad as usual. It seemed like someone had been by recently and reordered the place only for Anders to once again put it into a state of disorder. There was a phonebook in the sink, spare change in the toilet, and the water had been running in the shower for what looked like a long time. Emre turned off the faucet before he turned his attention towards Anders. “Seems like you’re adjusting well.” He felt for his friend more than Emre was able to express easily, they two had a long history together, and now Anders was frozen in this state forever. It dawned on him then that that meant Emre was also frozen, but he dismissed the thought, if he could count on Anders for anything, it was forgetting. 

Time had- it had done something. Magic returned, and with it Dante felt powerful now, not powerful enough to wrestle Anders’ soul from Persephone’s clutches, but if time had been affected then maybe that meant his brother had come back with it. He went back to where he’d said farewell to his brother, and then, as if nothing had happened, as if the veil had never fallen, as if they never said goodbye: Anders was there. There were no words that Dante could levy against the other, there was no story that came to mind now, tears stung his eyes, and this time Dante did not care to try and hide them- instead he rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Anders. “You’re back.” You’re back and Hela is here too.