Tlazōlteōtl wandered around the city, the rain from earlier seemingly disappearing as quickly as it came. No place in mind, not really, not anymore. Her anger dissipated with Hathor down the street. Through the throng of people that walked the streets, brushing past mortals caused her pause, just long enough for her to work her magic. Enticing others to act on their sin; someone was robbed just behind her, a throuple being broken up as one leaned up to kiss the other. A type of chaos she thrived in, though she gained no joy from it.
A heavy sigh escaped her as she continued on, until a thought crossed her mind, or rather someone
. Pulling out her phone she dialed a familiar number. At least with a call she wouldn't be able to avoid her. A small smile on her lips.
On the outside, the Emerald Kelpie
looked almost no different from the kind of fairy tale cabin the kids in stories were told to avoid but never did. There was a hanging wood craft sign with an emblem of a horse’s head and the words ‘Emerald Kelpie’ written in olde font - it looked like the words and logo were burned into the wood - and the front wall had small rectangular windows but, more importantly, it was made from stone with moss poking out of some of the cracks. At a glance it wouldn’t have looked that out of place in some Tolkein story. The fact that it was able to exist in the modern area only made it more unusual given that the buildings near it were far more modern in architecture. But when it came to the Emerald Kelpie, aesthetics were important
, almost as important as the product sold inside.
Paisley Sinclair, the name most patrons of the Kelpie knew her by, enjoyed living and operating in a house reminiscent of the cabins she used to live in back when she was known as The White Witch, back when most mortals were lucky to live past the age of thirty. Of course back then she was known by Cerridwen, a name which, now, was used mostly by those who knew her as such. Or when they wanted to be cute.
Inside the Kelpie there was silence. Other than the music
coming from what looked like a very old phonograph. With eyes closed, head slowly swaying to the music, and incense sticks burning away next to her coating the room in a gentle herbal haze that tickled the nostrils, was Cerridwen
herself. The shop was closed, her new crop was growing well, everything was…perfect.
And then her phone rang. “Though’ I pu’ y’awn silent.”
Cerridwen spoke, her sing-songy Scottish trill sounding playfully annoyed by the distraction as she pressed a button on her phone. Unfortunately, the button she pushed was just the volume button on the side and her ringtone went louder. It took her three more tries to answer the phone properly and even when she did she was pretty sure she was on video or speaker or both. Why did they make these things so…complicated?“Aye? Alrigh’ mate?” "Cerri, love~,"
She practically purred into the receiver, picking up on crackling music playing in the background. The top half of the White Witch's face took up the bottom of the phone screen, resulting in a crack of a smile to grace Tlazōlteōtl's features. It felt like the first one in what seemed like eons as she continued on her walk through the city, "Please tell me you're available for a late night rendezvous."
The night was relatively young and the state with which she left her strip club it was better for her to just stay out for the evening. The other gods were scattered about dealing with the deaths on their own, keeping busy. The thought of fearing for her safety was the furthest from her mind, especially after her interaction with a particular secret love child, and all she wanted to do was indulge in some expertly crafted potions and herbs and converse about anything other
There was only one person who could make the word ‘love’ seem like it was weaved from silk. Tlazōlteōtl. Or Tlaz, or any other names spoken by people in eager whispers. At a glance, Cerridwen and Tlaz might have seemed to be the last people who would be friends, but it was often the ones who seemed like oil and water turned out to be anything but. Like many things in Cerridwen’s life, it started with herb. Cerridwen gave Tlaz some prime Kelpie kush which worked wonders and what had turned from a business deal over time became a friendship. Cerridwen had an open door policy on those she liked and Tlaz was one of them. Fortunately, Tlaz hadn’t abused that - which was as much Cerridwen admitting she enjoyed the company as anything else, though she would be hard pressed to admit such a thing outright if only because Cerridwen was not great at discussing her own feelings and thoughts. “Well…I was gonnae sit in me chair for a good hour or so so I suppose I’m good for a rendezvous, aye. I’ll pu’ the kettle on.”
The fact that Tlaz was wanting a late night rendezvous could only mean one thing: she likely had a lot on her mind that she definitely did not want to think about. Cerridwen had been there many times. The least she could do was offer her friend time and, if she knew Tlaz, something a bit more than tea to get the mind off of problems for the moment.
Walking up to the Emerald Kelpie was like stepping back in time, a place out of place. The surrounding buildings and sounds kept the Aztec grounded in the present but there was something ethereal standing on the stoop outside such an ancient ornate door. With a single knock the door came to life and swung on it’s own accord, the sign in the window having long since been flipped to showcase a closed business for the evening, allowing the two of them to converse in comfortable privacy.
It was long overdue, their friendly get-togethers. Things had been running rampant with preparing for the Festival and training the newest recruits to Illicit’s… well, illicit dealings. Tlaz could never truly trust those she brought into her fold unless they were vetted and screened, Hathor and Phobos helped a lot in those regards - especially when it came to making sure their clients didn’t step a toe over line. And yet, even though there had been so much commotion going on, Cerridwen was there. She always was. Providing comfort and an easy form to gaze upon while conversing.
She walked with a purpose through the threshold of the Kelpie, closing the door with just enough force to announce her presence, but not so much as to offend the owner and the soul of the place. It was as if an ancient being, more so than the gods themselves, dwelled within the bones of the home turned business. Every plant and creature that decided to live within the premises thrived and would do so, even if Cerridwen was shirking duties - though that would never be the case with the Celt. Too proud of the work she produces to ever allow something like responsibility to take over. The floors creaked ever so slightly beneath her feet, greenery hanging from pots in the ceiling draping down like makeshift curtains. The multitude of rugs and other linens provided comfort for weary feet on the ground and if one took the time to examine them they would have seen stories of old told in their weavings. Shelves lined the walls of the bottom floor; the business portion of the house. Glass cases filled with tins and baubles, blown glass vials and containers all for the sole purpose of effectively using the organic products of the Kelpie.
She could hear the slow rustling of someone upstairs and began to make her way to the winding spiral in the back of the shop, ascending into the cozy light of the Witch’s home. After clearing the final step she announced herself more clearly, seeing the form of Cerridwen in the kitchen past more plants, lit candles and furniture reminiscent of the Shire. A large grin took over, and Tlaz could already feel some of the tension leaving her when she stepped up into the sanctuary that was Cerridwen’s home and she sighed heavily in relief; this was exactly what she needed. “Nican nicatpolotica, and I managed to snag some authentic whiskey to pair with that tea of yours.”
While the scent of floral incense was still lingering in the air of Cerridwen’s humble abode, it was competing now with the stronger scent of something…sweet. The Emerald Kelpie, apart from being a brand and shop to purchase all manner of sensory enhancing herbal remedies and blends - now even in gummy form - was also Cerridwen’s long standing home. Though its location changed over the years, it had been standing since the days of antiquity and were it not for the scant few lamps it would seem that the only modern innovation present in the stone walls of the Kelpie was the cash register on the first floor. But even the lamps on a close enough look seemed to be kerosene and not electric. The first floor of the establishment was quite reminiscent of a gift shop in a historical village; it had clearly been retrofitted to be a dispensary and was thus a bit more ‘modern’ though that was like saying the 1800s were more modern than the 1700s.
Upstairs, though, was where Cerridwen lived and thrived. As Tlaz made her way upstairs, Cerridwen was standing in front of a masonry oven, bellows to the side, the sound of wood crackling under the embers.“Aye, luv, ga’un grab a seat, like.”
Cerridwen gestured towards the chairs in what would be known as a living room to modern sorts, though rather than there being a television or the like there was a large bookshelf and her phonograph that was still playing the music, though at a considerably softer volume. There was a coffee, or tea, table that had all the signs of being hastily cleaned which was why on top of the bookshelf there were a bunch of papers and envelopes and coupons. The whistling of a kettle pierced through the soft music and Cerridwen scrambled to grab two mugs from atop a cabinet and set them, along with the teapot, onto a silver tray. She brought the tray to the table and held up a single finger towards Tlaz as she turned on her heels and went back to the oven. “I’ve made some parlies they’ll be done’na sec. That’d be the ginger ya smell. Get somethin’ sweet in ya, course wha’ cannae be sweeter’n yew, luv?”
Cerridwen pulled a small tray of sweet, brown biscuits/cookies from the oven and placed them onto a glass plate and it was with the plate of parlies that Cerridwen finally joined Tlaz in the living room, placing the cookies next to the tea tray as she settled into a chair. “Ah’m trustin’ ye’tae keep me honest. Donnae wan’ get so smashed I wind up paradin’ about in me knickers singin’ The Braes o’ Killiecrankie.” “Well that’s no fun~,”
she cooed, helping herself to one of the cookies placed on the table before them and taking a bite, making sure to not spill crumbs all over her friend’s floor. Her own chair was so comfortable she found it easy to relax into, sinking into the cushions. It had been some time since the two of them got together as such. Enjoying the other’s company over tea and drinks, kush and other potions making an appearance later in their visits. It was a place strictly to regroup her thoughts, to sort them out without being swayed one way or another. Tlaz valued Cerridwen’s opinions on practical and emotional matters, taking them to heart and trying to apply them. Sin can only be withheld for so long before it’s itching to crawl out.
A content and dreamy sigh escaped her as she enjoyed the baked goods, it wasn’t every day she got to indulge in many things of the homemade variety. “Ahuializtli… simply delicious, Cerri,”
It really was, melting on her tongue as she devoured the rest of the treat in a speed that surprised even her. If she were to think about it, it had been a rather tumultuous day and there wasn’t a moment where she was able to stop and eat something - the drinks at the luncheon didn’t count, she just ended up puking them back up once the bodies dropped. Tlazōlteōtl shook her head to rid herself of the image forever burned there.
As much as it took up space in the forefront of her mind, she didn’t want to bring down the ambiance of Cerri’s home with talk of the dead. It wouldn’t benefit either of them. Not yet at least. So instead of dwelling on the negative she turned to face the woman beside her, throwing her legs over the arms of the chair, a coy smile painted on her lips, “Tell me, what’ve you been up to? It’s only been a week since last we spoke though it feels so much longer. How is the shop, Benzaiten?”
A well timed wriggle of her brows at the goddess’ name and a roll of her shoulders indicated that Tlazōlteōtl was indeed not just
interested in the Japanese’s well-being.
As Tlaz was enjoying the gingery goodness of Cerridwen’s baked goods - and even when there wasn’t anything special in the batch, Cerridwen was a hell of a baker - the Celtic witch was sipping her tea with a gentle touch. There was a time when she had saucers to go with the teacups but an offhand remark comparing the saucer to being ‘bougie’ had gotten Cerridwen to invest in mugs instead. Mugs were fascinating things. Mortals gave them as gifts frequently but someone who had an abundance of mugs seemed more likely to simply display them rather than use them. And there were so many different little images and designs on mugs. Some had sayings on them even! Truly the height of mortal ingenuity. She didn’t know if there was a god of cups or ceramics but if there was, they deserved all the cute little mugs they could handle.
After taking a sip, Cerridwen closed her eyes and inhaled the aroma. Passionflower tea. One of the many herbal teas she was intimately familiar with. Good for anxiety and better sleep. It was one of Cerridwen’s favorites and, incidentally, one of the goddess Freyja’s least favorites as Cerridwen learned - something about passionflower being bad for pregnancy and that valerian root tea was better for it. But she couldn’t make valerian tea, it was a bad combination with alcohol of which whiskey was.
After taking a healthy whiff of the floral tea, Cerridwen went in for another sip but promptly paused as Tlaz asked the important questions. The kind of question that, had Cerridwen had liquid in her mouth, would cause a spit take. “Benny? Why, what’ve ya heard?”
Cerridwen looked around, her eyes blinking at a quickened pace, her cheeks turning a delightful pinkish hue - she would no doubt claim it was the tea’s heat that did it. Benzaiten was one of Cerridwen’s oldest and best, fondest customers. While not all of Benzaiten’s escapades with people over the years came with Kelpie branded products, enough of them had that Cerridwen was comfortable enough saying that she was as much inspiration as Benzaiten had been. But only playfully, she would never wish to take away from Benzaiten’s numerous accomplishments and adventures. “I mean, shop’s good, aye. Bit slow, losin’ some folk coz I donnae sell vaporizers or some such, like. Too mechanical, yeah? But..abou’ Benny…I have nae seen her in an age. Comes and goes, she does. Why, she mention me did she? What she say, like? Ga’un then, tell us.”
Shrugging as if it was nothing serious Tlazōlteōtl placed her cup back down on the table before her, making sure not to leave a ring on the aged furniture, before settling back into the comfort the chair provided. “That’s just it, haven’t heard too much from her. But you know her, she’s as free of a spirit as they come and as elusive as trying to catch running water in your hands. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out she’s inspired the next age of supers; heroes and villains alike.”
She had to chuckle to herself, the idea of someone years down the road expositing their life story and mentioning this wild child of a goddess, coming to them in their time of need and offering to have a smoke session going while also teaching them how to ‘properly fold origami’ just screamed Ben’s MO. How could she not
Though, it wasn’t too difficult to see the effect the wild child had over the Celt. She wouldn’t continue to circle back to Ben if she didn’t care for her in a way that seemed more than just platonic. It would be so easy to pry, to get her to open up more about her love life, rather than Tlaz bring down the mood with issues of her own heart. Looking around the room, mindlessly fiddling with the loose threads come bare on the arm of the chair had her thinking of her next words carefully. It was easy to get lost in the conversations had here. Life and the world halted around them. It was just them content with the comfort and safety of the house around them. Their own personal haven. The environment reminiscent of times long passed, a simpler time. One without the stress and worry that tacked onto immortality in the modern world. Perhaps that’s why Cerridwen chose to use as little tech as possible, in order to keep her sanctuary as it was. A refusal of change or something more primal, real
.“Do tell me, noyollo icniuh, have you spoken these feelings to the looking glass? To her?”
There was a smirk on her face that would put the Cheshire cat to shame and that knowing glint to her gaze as she sat upright, leaning in on her elbows to examine her friend closely. There was no denying that there was something going on between the two of them and distracting herself with lust and love of said friend was the medicine she needed in the moment. If not to help then to just listen.“As far as your customers go, love, you know I’m more than willing to have it promoted in the clubs. Say the word and it’s done. Though, if you wished you could always set up shop within those fairs that take place. You would make a killing,”
Of course Cerridwen hadn’t spoken any feelings to anyone, there were no feelings. None at all. Her face going red and eyes going wide - or wider as it were - at mere mention of Benzaiten was just coincidence. Happenstance. Hell, if it weren’t for one particular get together where Cerridwen got a little too comfortable after a string of drinks and basically admitted to the patron of filth that the last time Cerridwen got intimate she pictured someone else’s face and wondered if that was bad then it was likely that Tlaz wouldn’t have even known about Cerridwen’s thoughts on one of their fellow deities. Cerridwen swore Tlaz to secrecy. The White Witch couldn’t get caught up in such…mortal affairs of adolescent longing.
Her blush remained as Tlaz smirked at the Celt’s general direction. It was almost too easy, it seemed, for Tlaz specifically to get Cerridwen reacting like this. She was squirming in her seat, not that it was uncomfortable, just that when Cerridwen was embarrassed she tended to show it with her whole body. Her seat-based squirming made the rickety sound of the chair speak for her before her words did. “Spoken? Ya cannae be serious, like. Wot’m I gonnae say t’her? She’s ou’ there inspirin’ people and I live in a wee cabin in the woods like I’s gonna gobble up children what get lost. No way I’s a chance wi’ someone like that.”
Cerridwen protested as her fidgeting came to a stop just before her words did. “Could finagle up a love potion but tha’s cheatin’ it is. And a bit squicky. Moral complications used tae mean fuckall back when I blinked and a hundred years passed.”
Cerridwen calmed slightly as she sipped at her tea, the floral aroma wafting up and tickling the tip of her nose. The way her nose twitched, she was reminded of the time an older sort mentioned that she was like a character from an old television show. Of course, Cerridwen had to act like she both knew what a television was and that she watched it or at least was interested in doing so.“Oh the fairs are lovely even with the inaccuracies. The little costumes and things. Y’know I got to play a servin’ gel at one. Had a little snog with a fella beard all’a red. Didnae taste like ginger despite him sayin’ such. Beautiful times, fairs. But to yer point…I hate tae ask a favour, ya know I do, but aye if you and yours could drop the brand, I’m sure more business would come in. Not that I’m doin’ bad, like, but it never hurts tae have more, y’know? I can get ya a promotion pack thing. Couple pounds o’me stuff, or some baked goods and some cards wi’ me logo on it. I’ll owe ya somethin’ fierce, love.”
It was the words she looked forward to hearing the most. Tlazōlteōtl wasn’t the most skilled in being subtle, though she would say she had a gift for it. A joke amongst those that knew her well. There wasn’t a thing in the world she did without being flashy or showy or seeking all eyes on her; except in this case. “Something fierce, huh?”
No longer did a coy smile occupy her face but one of pure mischievousness.”I’m quite positive I already know what it is I would want,”
she examined her nails as if there was something interesting written across them. As if they were going to give her what it was she wanted in that moment. No, only Cerridwen could do that.
Eyes half lidded with a mirthful gleam raked over her hosts’ features, promoting her friend was nothing - she would have done so in a heartbeat regardless of receiving anything in exchange for the act. However, now that the offer is on the table, how could she not
use that to her advantage?“Why do I feel like m’words’re gonnae get me in trouble wi’you?”
Cerridwen asked with only a small trace of genuine concern in her voice. Tlaz had a smile on her face, which wouldn’t be unusual given she was quite a smiler in the best of times, but this was less the smile of someone happy to see someone and more the smile of someone watching from the sidelines as a rival trips on ice and stumbles into oncoming traffic. It wasn’t as if Cerridwen feared for her life, but she knew Tlaz enough to know to expect only the unexpected. She could assume and guess as to what her friend was hinting at, but if she was wrong then it would be awkward and nothing killed conversation or anything between friends quite like awkwardness. She would know, she once made what she thought was a clever bit of entendre at the annual ceremony that wound up getting overheard in a moment of silence. Her only rebuttal was admitting rather brusquely that that was why she tended to talk to plants only. “What is it ya wan’, then? I could guess but where’s the fun in that, aye?”“It takes all the fun out of it~,”
she grinned but it was all in fun, she was glad Cerridwen saw it as it was. And just like the cat that ate the canary Tlaz was sitting forward, all smiles and knowing gleams in eyes. “I want you to ask Ben out on a date. Make an effort to show her the truth that lies within your soul, between your bones. We can see it, noyollo icniuh, how you look at her. And when you two are together, it’s as if the sun has shined down on your patch of wooden sanctuary,”
Which wasn’t a lie. It had been something that the Aztec had been trying to get her to see for ages. Both of them were too stubborn to make a first move, or extend anything further than banter and flirtations.
It was now time for action, and if Tlazōlteōtl had to bribe the White Witch into action, so be it.“I cannae do tha’.”
Cerridwen’s voice was raised in pitch and her hair was dancing across her forehead with how frantically she was swaying her head side to side. Never would she have guessed that that was Tlaz’s request; Cerridwen was assuming the favor would be something along the lines of fingers, lips, and hips but then she kicked herself mentally for thinking so little of her friend as to assume the only thing on her mind were thoughts of an intimate nature. Not to mention it would have been a waste of a favor as Cerridwen had yet to meet someone who would say no to the Aztec. “I’ve no’ been on a proper date in a hundred years. Maybe more.”
She wasn’t exaggerating. Cerridwen kept to herself a lot of the time and no one would count one night stands every once in a full moon as an active dating life. “Plus, she’d never agree tae it. Look at me house. I’m one graham cookie away from bein’ a witch that ets kids. Who’d wan’tae go on a date wi’ me? Definitely no’ someone like Benzaiten. She’s got…options. She’s…I got nothin’ tae offer her other than herbs.” "Ah, ah, ah,"
her curly head bounced along with the motion of her shushing the woman before her. It was true, the house was of the green witch variety and sure
if she decorated the outside of her shop with lollies and candy and the like she would be bound to gain more customers of the... younger generations. But that wasn't the point and she knew it! Shaking her head of all the nonsense the Celt was spewing, a lunge away from covering her mouth with her own hand, "Dating isn't easy. Never was; especially not for us who have been around for as long as we have. But this isn't some mortal who you must lie and shy away from. It's Ben. She has no more options than you, amor. Besides, when have you ever known her to say no to you, huh~?"
The silence that passed between them for a beat as she reached for her mug was palpable. Pairing nicely with the Passionflower tea sitting on her tongue; aptly served for the conversation at hand. "Look,"
she started, setting the now empty cup on the table once more, settling back into her seat, legs folded underneath her frame as she leaned forward once more, "If you need the push required to fulfill my request I am more than happy to assist."
Tlaz wanted nothing more for Cerridwen than for her to find her happiness, to have someone to spend the rest of this eternity with. Selling herbs and potions to mortal's with questioning gazes, spending time in the afternoon sun sitting back with a good book and company. Ruining bed-sheets for the sake of it. The wholesome idealesqueness of it all sent shivers up her spine. "I would never do you wrong, you know that."
As much as the pep talk was appreciated it did little to alter Cerridwen’s mind on the matter; panic was writ large across her naturally expressive face as her eyes were shimmering in the corners and her lip was twitching at the sides. If she were the type of person to perspire, her forehead would be drenched in the stuff, but as it stood her brow was merely scrunched up and creases formed on her forehead. She was like that any time someone mentioned Benzaiten to her - and it was worse if Benzaiten happened to be within eyesight; at least now Cerridwen could still form words. Her thoughts on Benzaiten were not exactly a secret though the way the Celt acted she figured the only one who knew of her long standing crush was her. “I cannae jus’ call her up and ask her round for a spo’of dinner now, can I? ‘ows I suppose’tae ask her out, like? I’s no idea where she even is. No. No, better I jus’...better it be like it is. An’ what if she says no, aye? Then it makes it awkward. And I’m plenty o’tha’ on my own”
She was babbling. Rambling. Coming up with a dozen reasons not to do something. And some people wondered why she took to the herb. “It’s no’ that I don’ trust ya, I do, it’s just I don’ trust m’self.”
Cerridwen took a long, shaky gulp of her tea; it wasn’t piping hot anymore which likely contributed to her finishing the cup with the gulp. As she set it on the table in front of her, her fingers were shaking, not much, just enough that it would make lines drift on paper. “How d’you do it? Date, I mean.”
It was her turn to balk and flounder with herself, the question throwing her off any game she might have had in that moment. Her recovery time was not something to be impressed by either, as Tlaz sat there deep in thought, mouth gaping like a fish trying to breathe. "Well, it's been... awhile in the nicest terms. Haven't had a proper date in ages,"
she had to laugh at it, though it was a bitter, somber type of laugh. The memory of her last official "date" having been something that took place almost forty years ago stoked the glowing embers within her and soon the fire would blaze once more. She could feel it."When Ares... walked out on me, on us, it was difficult to properly date someone again. Little trysts and rendezvous here and there. A lot of one night stands. Don't get me wrong, sex is amazing... not all the time but beggar's can't be choosers, hmm,"
she threw in a wink and the coy smile she was known for, "We're in an age where dating and courting and wooing one's intended isn't so commonplace anymore. It would have done wonders for me back before the Fall, but now?"
The chuckle that escaped her was laced with a dark edge, a complete 180 from just moments before, "Now I wish to have something more permanent. Steady and real. Something to hold on to until the end, I s'pose. Too romantic, huh?"
As she sat there looking across to the dark haired beauty before her, Tlazōlteōtl couldn't help but be reminded of herself and the situation between her and Ares. One seemingly chasing the other without committing to the endgame. A series of looks of longing and idle fantasies of what could be
, not what is. Maybe that was more par for the course as to why she was so invested in Cerridwen's love life or lack thereof. Of course she wanted to see her friend happy and in love and experiencing the joyful feelings that she was lucky enough to have at one point. But maybe it was more selfish than that? Cerridwen was able to have her happily ever after. One of them should at the very least.
The topic of love was a difficult one in the best of times but especially given the pair of them. Cerridwen hadn’t known love in as long as she remembered; even before the Fall her love was more maternal rather than romantic and she’d known no romantic partner in all her years. One need not be in love to have children and nowhere was that more obvious than with the various other deities in her address book. How many children did the Greeks have not out of love but out of a desire so base it makes one wonder how they ever stood above mortals. And the less said about the Norse and their various trysts and offsprings regarding animal traits the better, Of course, Cerridwen couldn’t cast stones, her own pantheon wasn’t squeaky clean just because she, in comparison, was. But just because love was so complicated didn’t mean that it wasn’t worth pursuing and Cerridwen was happy that Tlaz had Ares for a time. That time may have ended and Cerridwen knew better than to try and say some faux inspirational greeting card quote - even though she found the saccharine poetry of greeting cards to be lovely reading with its sentimentality condensed into sub-limerick style. Cerridwen had submitted some poems to condolence and greeting cards but as yet they had been rejected. “Too romantic? Never.”
Cerridwen did offer some words of encouragement and signed them with a smile. “I think it’s wonderful that y’aren’ afraid tae try. I know it must be difficult in your field, havin’ all manner o’ sex and all, tae separate the two. Or maybe it’s no’. I dunnae. Point is, someone peddlin’ lust is more deservin’ o’ love than most. I don’ have many friends, like, and the ones I do have, like you, aye, well I wan’ nothin’ but your happiness. You want somethin’ real? You’ll get it. Oh gosh, I’m soundin’ like a true nonce ent I?”
Cerridwen couldn’t keep herself from giggling at her comments. She tried not to dip too far into maudlin territory but the tea might have been loosening her idea of what too far was. She was, if nothing else, completely honest in her words at least. She always was, for better or worse. “Have ye though’ abou’ datin’ outside the realm of our kind? I hear some of us have had it on wi’ some mortals for more than jus’ a bit’o fun.” "I've had my fair share of mortals to keep me entertained and my bed warm, but none of them are..."
she paused a moment to think of the right wording for what they were. What were
they? Other than just placeholders. Nothing, really. They weren't overly exciting, or completely mundane. They didn't provide a sense of spark for kindling that she desired. Not to mention, they were never present long enough to make the connections matter. Sure, if she found one to spend the rest of their mortal life with she might
be inclined to refuse the fruit so as to pass on to a permanent death with them. But, she just couldn't. Regardless of Ares and their issues, it was him her soul called out for. "Permanent. Being able to outlive them all... it's not worth the heartache."
Tlaz cleared her throat however, trying to get the topic off of anything that would bring the mood back down. As if her thoughts were heard by unknown forces, her phone chimed in with a message. Quickly glancing at it, not wanting to take up valuable time with Cerridwen, she scanned the message - somewhere deep within her hoping it was Ares - and her eyes twinkled with mischief. A party? This would prove very beneficial to all involved. Turning back to company present, a sultry smile wide and telling, holding up her phone for her to gaze at herself, "But like I said, one night stands, Cerri. It's where they're at."
Cerridwen couldn’t do anything other than implicitly agree via shrugged shoulder and slow sip of tea at the remark of outliving mortals. That tended to do a number on any long term relationships with them, but it had the unfortunate side effect of giving a fair number of their kind a real intimacy problem. And how could it not? Anyone who could live, in essence, forever would slowly start to lose things like morality or decency. Some of them had never had it, to be fair. But Cerridwen couldn’t exactly fault some of their peers for being…full of ennui or trying to deal with it by indulging in more hedonistic pursuits.
And on cue, Tlaz held up her phone, with talk of an Acropolis party and instinctively Cerridwen was shaking her head. Her phone didn’t buzz which, to her, suggested that she wasn’t invited. Which was fine. Cerridwen wasn’t someone you invited to parties, Cerridwen was someone you bought a lot of weed from before throwing a party because the last time Cerridwen was at a party she sat on a couch with a cup of beer and then after the sixth couple collapsed onto her in the middle of an intense makeout session, she decided to talk to the plants for a couple hours instead. At least the deviled eggs she brought were eaten. By her. After she took them home because no one ate them. “Tlaz, sweetie, ye’d have tae drag me kickin’ an’ screamin’...”