#disgruntledcupid

The letters had come nearly every day.  Hades wondered how Persephone managed to find the inspiration to write so much and so enthusiastically.  Part of him felt absolutely exhausted by the energy she produced and yet the other half yearned for the peculiar sunshine she emitted. 

The letter’s came so frequently that he had come to expect them and then suddenly they stopped entirely.  It was as if a rushing stream had been suddenly dammed up, leaving not even a trickle of water to flow through. And finally came that final letter sent in response to his concerned one, written in handwriting far too familiar to him. 

“But, I mean...”

@disgruntledcupid

Loki the Lie-smith certainly knew how to tell when somebody else was lying. He knew, because few did it better than him.

But even though he didn’t pick up any direct evidence that Cassius Loveline had been lying, or even omitting truth about his people... Loki still didn’t believe him. Why should he? The Olympian-- along with the whole mountain of them-- hated him. Why would he tell the truth?

So it was time to look deeper. Maybe he could pull it out of him.

Loki followed the faint aura of the divine, the very same that he gave off himself. A... dive bar?

Sad.

@madamexguillotine @disgruntledcupid

Godric was staring down at Roxy, standing still a few feet away while Carter slowly pulled himself together crumpled in the debris of the table he’d landed on. The Cipriani Ballroom was outfitted for a banquet that may never come to pass.

“Good,” the vampire purred. “Take that blade. And--”

“Sire!”

Godric’s attention snapped upwards to the doors now flying open. He knew that voice.

“Armand,” he cooed gently as the Chevalier stepped in, Aurelie behind him. His hand was already on the pommel of his blade. That made Godric straighten, his hand doing the same.

“There is no more talking, Sire,” Russo said gruffly, his blade drawing itself with a slow scrape of steel. His expression was a steely mask. He saw the scene lying out before him and knew already what had happened. It made him shudder. “Lord Godric, I challenge you to a Monomancy. You and I, a duel of blades. No disciplines of the blood. Skill and strength alone.”

“What.” 

Godric’s eyes narrowed to slits, the authoritative tone in Russo’s voice grating against his pride. Russo stood rigid, despite the second chill moving down his back. “...The stakes will be seventy years of torpor. I will go quietly if I am bested, and you will do the same.”

Godric remained still and silent for a few long, agonizing seconds. “...Do not interfere,” he murmured to the girl at his ankles. 

“Do you accept?” Russo snapped.

And then the vampire lord turned to him completely, his shoulders squared, his hand on his blade. “...After all I have done for you, Armand? You slight me like this? ...For them? They are specks of dust on the span of your existence, Armand. They should be nothing to you.”

“Do you accept.”

Godric stiffened, his eyes narrowing. 

@disgruntledcupid @semper-invicta-aeternum

Aurelie had rushed through official procedures as fast as was absolutely possible.  As worried as she was for her lover, she still had her devotion to her duty to see to.  Once seeing to the comfort and care of her team, and managing to get a rushed approval of her emergency leave.  

Unfortunately it took her two and a half days to get from France and back Stateside.  It was longer than she had wanted it to take but her hands had been tied in this situation. 

Having been given the address by Cassius, Aurelie found herself at the door of the apartment he had taken Russo to. The osprey recognized it, being the one where she and Russo had staged their rescue of Devil and Harker.  

She looked a bit worse for wear, with her right arm in a sling and a line of stitches along her right temple.  Shifters healed faster than ordinary humans but they weren’t quite as fast as vampires.