@spectormcrcâ
An important component to a relationship is balance. Itâs integral to all dynamics, a true must have in intrapersonal connections. A lack of balance doesnât make something destined to fail, but itâll falter and potentially fall. For as important as itâs important, itâs also complicated. Finding it can take years, and even then it can feel slanted or tilted. There had been a time in her marriage when Layla had wondered if she and Marc would ever reach a place of even keel. His time as a mercenary had left visible effects on him, and Layla had always respected his privacy. Balancing Marcâs responsibility with her work and their married life hadnât been easy at first. Theyâd never been great with communication, and emotions were often high. When theyâd finally found the middle ground she desired, it hadnât lasted long. Now, theyâre in new territories. Theyâre both avatarâs with separate gods to serve. Layla and Marc have made a commitment to one another to put their marriage first, and theyâve been doing well lately because of it.
Of course, things arenât just about balancing with Marc anymore. Thereâs Jake and Steven to factor in. Laylaâs relationship with the former is fledgling; theyâre on better terms now and Layla doesnât mind spending time with the cab driver even if she hasnât explicitly said it. And then, thereâs Steven. Layla loves Steven. Itâs not just that she loves Steven. Sheâs in love with Steven. Ever since Marc gave them his blessing, things have been going well. They share a love of history and art. The museum dates have been plentiful and their time together has an air of romance that some of her interactions with Marc lack. Their balance has been easier to find. Khonshu and Taweret are intricately tied to their lives now, but being avatarâs sometimes fade into the background. With Jake, Laylaâs more likely to be in costume. With Steven, she finds herself simply as Layla more often. More often, but not all the time.
The white of the Mr. Knight suit is as bright as the moon that shines in a crescent above them. Layla has thanked the god she serves multiple times for keeping her warm despite the exposed skin thatâs subjected to the night air. Like always, her dark curls remain loose around her face as she takes in the city below them. The wind keeps blowing them around, but Layla doesnât care.
âI would almost say itâs romantic if I couldnât hear all the cars honking.â Even from the rooftop, itâs loud. New York is always loud. Layla looks to Steven, a small smile toying at her lips. âWhat if we just stayed up here? No more getting shot at tonight. Would that be wrong of us?â





















