#mpfreya

@mpfreya

there is something to be said about coffee. not many things if you ask sveinn; he’s more of a tea person himself, but occasionally the dark delight manages to capture even him. it’s on such days that he ventures into one of mount phoenix’s coffee shops, looking for a decent cup of coffee. because he doesn’t drink it often, but when he does he wants it tasting good.

today his choice of coffee shop is the flower mill, drawn in as he is by the plentiful healthy flowers decorating the front and inside of the place. he takes his time letting his eyes wander over the menu, taking in all the different things they have in the shop. he doesn’t know why but he keeps glancing at the young woman behind the counter, eyes finding her in between almost every menu pane, until eventually he decides to just walk up to the counter to order.

he’s certain he knows her from somewhere, but he couldn’t say where, and so he decides to just study her while she makes his order. perhaps it’ll come back to him - or perhaps she’ll say something herself.

Continued for @mpfreya:

[ Text ] Technically, I’m supposed to find it gross too but you know...

[ Text ] There was a hot Science teacher when I was in high school. Damn I would’ve gone there.

She chuckled to herself, thinking back on Mr Lee. He was only a vague memory now, much like if someone where to was up from a night of too much alcohol, so Blair couldn’t really confirm if he really was an handsome as she remembered. There weren’t too many options around where she lived and - she had to say - he was a nice teacher.

Blair was a rebel, always happy to cause trouble, and had to admit that she had tried to seduce the teacher on more than one occasion. He never gave in, though she wondered if he would still think the same if she returned now.

Ctnd from here with @mpfreya

“Now now, Pannie, this world’s already complicated, keep it short and simple, shall we?” The goddess looked up at her friend from across the table, a shining knife in one of her hand an a shining fork on the other. Once in a while, when Freya was in a good mood for a dinner companion, she would invite one or some of people she considered friends to Noona restaurant, offer them a free feast with Freya-made dishes.

She admitted, if one lacked of experience of using the less common eating utensils, they might need to cope with tiny confusion eating some of the dishes. Pan seemed to belong to that category, so Freya had spent a good five minutes to instruct him how to enjoy the main course. “It’s just a lobster, and it’s red, mean it’s dead already, so just grab, twist slightly and pull the legs out,” The goddess repeated her instruction for the ten times while demonstrating with her hands in the thin air, “then you can use the thing on your left hand to crack the shell, sweetie, it’s as simple as that.”

Pan, feet bare, nails caked with dirt, hair shaggy and nearly matted in some places, clearly did not belong in this fancy restaurant. He tried to avoid restaurants whenever he could, whether fancy or not. Restaurants were strictly human places, kept spic and span with all their fancy rules and health codes. Technically speaking he wasn’t even supposed to be barefoot inside Noona, but he refused to join Freya unless he was allowed to keep his feet free of shoes. Maybe he would invest in a pair of soft and comfortable sandals for the next time he had to go into a restaurant. Sandals, he could tolerate.

So far, Pan had used his fingers as his utensils as much as he could, preferring the flavor of the food when it hadn’t been tainted with the tinniness of metal. No one in the world would convince Pan that food tasted just as good which metal utensils. Wood, maybe. Pan favored the simplicity of wooden chopsticks when he had to use utensils at all.

@mpfreya

he’s been combing through the forest for hours now with no sign of his daugther or any of the other demigods. not even the slightest of hints as to where they might have gone to. somewhere along the way, freya joined him, and although absolutely grateful for her presence, they haven’t spoken much, as all his attention is focused on finding his daughter.

the more time passes without any signs of her, though, the bigger his worry grows and the more his frustration ebbs out of him. he’s not been anything less than fiery hot to the touch since the news came, but now he’s turning hotter again with the second, heat waves radiating off of him that curl the leaves in his path and drain the moisture from the living things around him.

@mpfreya

so, he came to the island as a next stop down the line sort of thing. he didn’t come expecting to be given an explanation about half-gods, special abilities, the dangers of being a deity’s offspring and more of the same kind of stuff.

not that he minded the lecture, the good advice or the overprotectiveness that shone out of every ounce of the woman who had explained it all to him - okay, maybe he minded the latter a little. but what’s really got his blood boiling is the fact that jess had suggested this place to him as somewhere for him to go next, and he had taken up her advice so trustingly only to find himself confronted with realities he had never needed to ponder until now.

it took him some asking around, but he managed to find the place where his old friend works - courtesy of the pictures of her he still has on his phone. it’s apparently a restaurant and she is apparently the owner of the place, indicating she has been living here for a while. he doesn’t know whether that fact makes sense, makes him more angry or both.

but the point is; he is angry and she is right there for him to find and get angry at. so there is absolutely no hesitation in him as he pushes open the door of the restaurant and strides inside. there is no one to stop him as he looks around the place, doesn’t catch her face among the people present, and then just heads right over to the kitchen doors.

completely disregarding the ‘staff only’ sign, he pushes the doors open and strides inside, gaze wandering over the faces until he spots her in the distance, certain it is her even when he can’t see her face.

“jess!” he calls out to her, striding past several surprised kitchen workers to make his way over to her, only to find his path suddenly blocked by a tall stranger with reddish hair. there’s no outward thread in the man’s stance, but there is a clear warning in the look he is given, and sveinn comes to a temporary stop, even though his eyes don’t leave the woman’s figure.

@mpfreya continued from here:

“You forgot a very important detail there, Tohil,” Freya commented with a soft chuckle, her eyes sparkled up and cheeks blushed to the point it was impossible to say she was still absolutely sober. “Flirts, honey, you also stuff people’s hearts and souls with your avalanche of shameless flirts.”

The goddess’ statement lack a pinch of tact, but with whiskey in her veins and Tohil as her dinner-mate, Freya gave her bluntness a big zero care. Besides, this was getting a little bit tiring, dealing with Tohil’s swollen confidence and spoiled ego. Don’t take her wrong, Freya still treasured the handsome guy sitting across the table to the core of her heart. It was just confusing and frustrating sometimes to read between the lines, to crack her head in order to check the validity in those sweet words he often showered her with, to see if there was any sign of seriouness in the way he looked at and touched her.

Honestly, Freya was fed up with spending every cell of her body to get a clue of what was going on in Tohil’s mind. And this late dinner seemed to be a golden chance for her to let it all out. “You’ll never be able to stop flirting with every living soul out there, am I right, Tohil?” She downed the rest of whiskey in her glass and poured herself a new one, while continued talking to him (even though it looked more like she was mumbling to herself). “Especially to me. Always flirting to me, but of course, I should never expect anything more than smooth flirting from you…”

tohil looks at freya as she contradicts him, already smiling bright and warmly because he’s out with the goddess, but gaining just that little bit extra spark in his gaze as she tells him he forgot the flirts. to him, those are considered part of the razzle dazzle, and he’s about to tell her just that when she continues on speaking, voice suddenly gaining a new quality, a somehow displeased note in it? he’s not entirely sure whether that’s because she disapproves of his flirty nature in general or because she disapproves of the fact that he has never stopped doing it with her despite all the things she has - quite literally - thrown at him for it.

as she downs her whisky glass and keeps mumbling, he leans in just that tad bit closer to make sure he can catch what she says, and when her words reach him, it’s as if a sudden surge of lightning suddenly courses through him. there is nothing but a shocked silence in the entirety of him after that as he sits there, slightly leaned more towards freya, his hands still holding his cutlery, trying to figure out what exactly the meaning of those words is. does she want there to be more than flirting? does she want his words to mean something the way he continuously hopes she will see they do?

he’s many thousands of years passed sitting by in quiet expectation when an opportunity is raised to speak, though, so it’s not all that long before he seemingly shakes himself awake, straightens up lightly and puts his cutlery down on the sides of his plate so he can focus all of his attention on the goddess opposite him. without hesitation, he reaches out to take hold of her hands, gently prying her fingers away from the whiskey glass she’d just refilled and capturing them in a soft hold that nonetheless doesn’t allow her to pull away just like that.

“my dear freya,” he says, and there is absolute seriousness in his eyes, but he can’t help but keep that flirtatious tone. for there is always a chance that he interpreted wrong, or that she will still wish to attempt to brush off his words as a joke, and he doesn’t want there to be no opportunity for that, for even if she rejects his advances, he is in no way willing to give up their friendship nor their playful banter at work. “you can expect whatever you want from me and i will gladly deliver. if there was ever the slightest chance that you wanted to be with me as more than friends i would do everything in my capability to make it happen, and to make it last. i’ve never seen you as ‘a conquest’ or whatever other unworthy term you’ve thought up and i never will. if you’d be willing to give me your heart i would lay down my life to keep it safe.”

@mpfreya

a return to the city means a return to work. a business a lot of people in the modern world have come to dread, but that tohil looks forward to with something near to excitement. he’s always enjoyed cooking, mostly because it enables him to employ his abilities in a more precise and controlled way, as well as because he simply really likes the smell and taste of properly prepared food.

nothing beats the smell of roasting meat, of course, that metallic scent of blood sizzling in a fire, but that is a liking he tends to keep mostly to himself, aware of how his fancies are usually viewed in the world.

the other upside of heading back to his job at noona is that he gets to see his boss again. and it just so happens that the woman who owns the restaurant is not just his boss but also one of closest connections. to call her a friend seems wrong somehow, because he is more than abundantly aware of all the other things there are between them.

there’s already a bright smile on his face as he pushes the door to the kitchen open, walking inside and instantly letting his gaze wander over the flowery decorations around. he is unsurprised by the few flowers that suddenly burst aflame without really burning up, but it does verify his assumption that the goddess is somewhere within his vicinity and instantly the smile on his face widens to a content grin.

“honey, i’m home!” he calls out happily, joking for the fun of it, and feeling instantly the collision of something or the other with the side of his face. shaking his head from the sudden smack, he glances down to see a carrot lying forlornly at his feet. lifting his gaze back up, he easily finds the beautiful woman working with said vegetables and sends her a very uncharacteristic pout.

“what was that for?” he complains dropping his bag at the side of the counter and taking a few big steps to close the distance between them. there is no hesitation nor shame inside of him as he puts his arms around her middle, picks her clean off the floor and gives her a little twirl. the grin is instantly back on his face as he does so, and he doesn’t put her down straight away, instead leaning in close enough to smell - yes, smell - the curve of her neck.

“Okay...” Psyche leaned forward slightly as she followed her index finger as it glided across the inside of a cook book she had acquired long ago in the mortal realm. “So... we’re making a pie?” She asked curiously as she lifted her gaze from the book and over towards the other, curious and making sure that she had heard her correctly. “I have this recipe here for an apple pie... then there’s a blueberry pie...” she hummed as she continued to read over the text and smiled. “I think I like the idea of a blueberry pie if I’m being completely honest with you..” she said, nodding her head a little. “I mean, obviously if that’s okay with you though...” She raised a brow inquisitively hoping that the response she would receive from the other would be a resounding yes, most definitely.

“Alright... so let me get the bowl out so we can combine a few things so we can make the crust...” she swiftly moved around the room with ease as she leaned down, almost squatting really to retrieve a bowl hidden underneath her countertops. “This should do the job...” she said to herself before standing straight up and showing it off almost as if it were a trophy or something. Her lips curved upwards into a bright smile, eyes shining bright yellow from the happiness that resonated within her being. Baking was her happy place, that and her garden. She felt like an ordinary person, as if she were never blessed with immortality and she was simply just a person doing their own little thing.