Another fairy tale for the ages.
This one of an Aphrodite, and an Ares.
Silly creatures, them both.
One beautiful in all her ways, surrounded by admirers and lovers, and yet yearning for something.. genuine. A life that actually mattered. A companion that wasn't swayed by her abilities. Wandered the land, picking up one occupation or another to learn new skills that delighted her, and make friends. Each time with a disguise of sorts on her face and body, so that she might be seen for who she was, not the legend she had become known by.
The other, a Frankenstein's monster with the mind of a prodigious savant, and burning eyes of coal. A creature of harshness and backhanded affection, born of pain and suffering, clawing his way through life one moment at a time, defeating the monsters that would have slain any other foe. Known for his withering comments and crude humor, all efforts to keep those of flimsy hearts at arms' length, with a fiercely hidden desire for the loneliness to end.
~
The woman, after many years of wandering, grew tired of her unending search for love and meaning, and began to seek friendly faces. Those that she had come to know in the course of her travels, that she could rest near and find comfort. After a mere month or two, she came upon a tavern in a northeastern land, catty-corner to a mage's college. A small thing, whose outer fascade looked as though it ought to be a failing business, with oddly loyal regulars and workers whose eyes twinkled.
As she pulled back the hood of her cloak, she looked up in confusion at the person manning the counter. She hesitantly took a step forward, then another, as he quietly counted through the day's till and sorted the tavern's painstakingly written paperwork. She thought she recognized him, but something of an odd aura almost seemed to be blocking his face from her view.
She continued forward slowly, before coming face to face with the man. He smiled at her, and asked, "How are you today, Aphrodite? Come to get something to drink, or a room perhaps?"
The self-mocking drawl of the barkeep jarred her memory into place.
It was Momus! An old friend whose smile and comfort had gotten her through many pains and troubles over the years, though was known for slipping away at strange intervals.
"Momus, you son of a bitch! What are you doing here? I haven't seen you since I met your children five years ago! What in the hell have you been doing with yourself?"
To which he ducked his head and began selfconsciously twisting a chain he wore round his neck. "Uhhh.. makin' another baby. I think I found myself a woman worth marrying this time."
He looked up at her critically, his eyes pausing on her worn and drawn features, her carefully held back multicolored hair, and the outfit she was wearing from the day's work.
"You look as though you have a few stories to tell, yourself. Why don't we sit down for a spell, catch up on old times? We can talk of babies and marriages and how on earth we both wound up here."
So, shaking her head in amusement, Aphrodite walked over to a secluded table in the corner, and pulled out the chairs for them both. For the next hour, she sat and spun tales of her daring do's and the ne'erdowells she had dealt with in the past few years, pausing each time a customer came into view or waved down her friend Momus. When he could, he sat with her and explained much of the same, coming to a point where he shly confessed that he had a new family now, that this job supported.
Aphrodite sighed and looked down at the scarred tabletop she was sitting at, spreading her hands wide as she did so to give her something to focus on. "I'm so jealous of you, Momus."
"I'm growing weary of the latest job I have taken. I am good at it, but I am surrounded by children, and expected to take commands from them. The pay is shit, but I don't want to return to my temple and go the easy way, again. I want.. a job I can actually enjoy. Before I get pissed and bolt again."
Momus looked at her assessingly, then let out a booming laugh that shook the small corner they were seated at. "Well, why didn't you say so, wretched woman? The tavernowner is looking for another set of hands as we speak. I know I'd look forward to seeing an old friend every day."
Aphrodite stilled in her selfconscious smoothing of her breeches, and looked at her friend in hope and near dismay. "You mean it? You would put in a good word for me? Just like that?"
Momus grinned then, ear to ear. "It won't hurt any to have a beautiful waitress bringing in new clients, now, do you think? The tavern owner is gonna love you. Come back tomorrow, in the morn."
And so she did return, with what paperwork she had grudgingly fetched from her various boltholes proving she was who she said she was (under an alternate name, of course). She charmed the tavern owner, and began work within the week, much to the chagrin of her family.
They had wanted for her to come back to Olympus, and stop meddling with human affairs as she did, and take up an occupation 'worth of her standing.' When she informed them of where she wished to begin work, and with who, they flew to alarm, and her brothers and sisters began yelling.
Momus and his friends were a 'bad crowd,' they said.
They would bring nothing but trouble in her future, they said.
She cared not, and threatened not to return to Olympus if they continued their antics.
They backed down, if grudgingly, imposing new tolls on crossing the borders to the heavens, asking new tithes of her followers, and treating her with disdain. She had newly become trash, it seemed.
~
She began work at the tavern, happily. Cleaning, meeting new customers, showing them to their rooms. Bringing food to the more recalcitrant members of the town so that they didn't have to step foot out in public, preferring their isolation. Smiling, gradually, more and more, as the days went on.
One evening, she was returning to work, and spotted a handwritten list tacked to a small board above the area where she would prep the food in the mornings. Odd things written on the list captured her attention, and began to make her laugh, for what seemed to be the first time in a long time.
-scrub the walls
-tame the manticore (or hire someone else to do it, we don't give a fuck)
-stop frightening the townspeople, they are beginning to complain
-feed the livestock (don't bring that shit home, it'll make you sick!)
-incinerate the garbage
Barely suppressing giggles, she motioned over the tavern manager from where he was standing nearby, and pointed to the list. "Who in the blessed Hades is that for?"
With a surprised look, he said: "Why, the Mad Rus'. He's been with us ten years now."
After a pause, he asked "Have you truly not met him yet?"
She shook her head with a smile. "I think I'd know him if I met him."
With a wry laugh, the portly man turned to go back to his duties. "That crazy fucker. He's a good man, but shit he brings us a bad reputation. Keeps scaring people on purpose so they won't talk to him, and proudly announcing he works for us when he speeds up on his chariot to someone's home. We've had many a complaint over it, but honestly, it's too funny to truly make him stop."
With this, she began to hope to meet the man, if only to congratulate him on his ill reknown.
~
It took her a few weeks, but Aphrodite eventually got into the swing of things. Occasionally hearing rumors of her family and friends back home, even less frequently returning home to visit them and tell them of her adventures. Each time, they fractionally warmed to her, but made it clear:
So long as she kept employ for tricksters, double dealers, and humans.. she was not welcome to live in Olympus, merely visit.
And so, her visits home began to falter, then miss, then cease almost entirely.
On a night she would have ordinarily clocked out early to visit Hermes at one of his stray temples, she grew fatigued and decided against the journey. 'I'll get the morning's work done early, and sleep extra in the morning. These family feuds are beginning to wear on me.'
The sun had far past set, yet she had no inkling of a desire to return to her small hut.
As her hands began to knead the dough for the morning's rolls, she heard a voice cry out:
"Oi, who in the fuck is still here at this ungodly hour? Paean, if that's you, GO THE FUCK HOME!"
Not looking up from her work, she replied: "Even Paean has gone home. Said to hold down the fort while he was gone, and to lie to the tavern owner if he sends a messenger, to say he is here."
Pausing in her work, she turned her eyes to the figure striding by her and time stood still.
A man, moderate in height and stature. At first glance, barely worth noticing, the type of person your gaze might slip on by without capturing your attention. With a squint, she mentally disabled the illusion that covered his form, much like her own illusion covered hers, and gasped.
A pale man standing at roughly 180cm, with a warrior's undercut, the bangs of which messily falling into his face. Piercing eyes of lit coal staring into hers, his hands nervously readjusting their grip on the messenger's bag as he evaluated her. She got lost in his gaze for a moment, imagining the stillness of fires crackling at a traveller's fire, the heat and comfort of slowly falling asleep before the flames.
A rakish grin spread across his face as she visibly shook the cobwebs from her mind and returned to her work. "Oooh, happy Saturnalia, lovely young woman. Who might you be?"
Smirking, she continued to knead the dough. "Oh, you can call me Di. And who are you?"
Eyebrows raising to waggle, he stuck out his tongue. "Oooooh, you can call me Rus', maid."
With a cackle, she let the sticky substance fall from her hands, turning to look for a stray rag to wipe her hands on, passing by him as she did so. "So you're the Mad Rus', eh? I've heard tales of you."
Eyes opening comically wide, he put a hand to his heart in mock distress. "Me? You've heard stories of me? No, gosh, I can't imagine why. Pray tell, young maid, what have you heard?"
Cackling once more, Di finished wiping her hands and set across the room to place the kneaded dough on a tray. He motioned to let him finish the task as she spoke, so she leaned her form against a nearby counter and eyed him with amusement as he deftly went about his task.
"Oh, whisperings of your devilishly handsome visage. Your extreme speeds in that hellfire chariot of yours. Minor tellings of your silliness and antics. Your rogueish behavior behind closed doors."
With this, his eyes narrowed and he began to look at her analytically, his gaze attempting to break through her illusion as hers had his. He slowed in his motions as he did so, and came to a full stop as he outright stared at her. For this, she didn't blame him. Whereas his 'disguise' merely made him unobtrusive and barely worth notice, hers, well.. did a bit more.
To his eyes, she had first appeared as a bedraggled young wench, her hair barely maintained, slipping from her handkerchief to fall in her face. Her hands stained from work, nails rough. Loosely fitting clothing, lending an air of disregard or slovenliness, as if they might have been picked from a stray bin. Smears of flour dusting her front and brushed across her nose, as if she did not care who saw.
What he did see when he took the time to pierce her illusion brought him to a standstill, and it almost seemed as if he ceased to breathe. Without her disguise, she entirely seemed a different woman. Long, curly midnight blue hair held back by a tight black handkerchief, only small tendrils escaping to frame her face. The clothes that seemed so slovenly before, without the lens of disregard, seemed as if they were loose on purpose to hide.. a very curvy figure. A maid that wanted to escape notice, perhaps? His eyes continued to rake over her to note small objects tucked into folds of cloth, the small of her back, even the outline of a blade making a small outline against the dusk colored fabric.
Mildly distracted, he muttered to himself, "You aren't quite what you appear, are you young one?"
With a wry grin at his obvious dispelling of the illusion, Di stood up straight and shook out her shoulders, coming to splay her hands on the countertop behind her to rest her weight. With a blink, she let loose the illusion and a few others he had not noticed yet, to show her full aura.. for but a moment. In that second, her aura softly glimmered around her like blue fireflies in the twilight, as his aura still shone for her like shadows by the night's fire. With another blink, she shored up her mental defenses and returned in appearance to the unassuming tavern's wench she had begun as.
She giggled at his dumbfounded look, and acted as oblivious as she could, engaging him in light chatter about the tavern's patrons, woes, and worries. After they accomplished thenext morning's work, distracted by their conversation, she gently handed him the keys to the establishment, did a light curtsy, and began to walk away. Calling over her shoulder, "Lock up tight, now. Paean will murder me otherwise, there've been thieves prowling about lately, and the safe isn't that well hidden."
Softly shutting the door behind her, the woman left for the night, leaving the man to his musings. He handled the closing up of the tavern for the night, shooing away what drunken visitors had slumped in their chairs in the common area. All the while, looking back over his shoulder at where the woman had stood. Contemplating who she might be, and why she seemed so familiar..
~
Every meeting thereafter, the Rus' began to pick and play with Di, attempting to bait her into revealing more information about herself. Occasionally succeeding. All the while, his eyes would bore into her in a calculated gaze, as a mountain cat might a rabbit hopping along a nearby tableau.
Over time, they grew close. Began to create excuses to spend time in each other's company, separately requesting of the tavern manager to share the same work hours when they could. Sometimes, one would accompany the other on deliveries to nearby towns, citing boredom as their reason to anyone who dared question what they were doing. Most did not, and backed off after merely asking once. Paean, to his credit, quietly told them both only one would be paid per delivery.
Neither cared. They came to stand near each other frequently while cutting vegetables, cleaning, even chatting with other people. It was as if they were slowly drawn to each other, almost without realizing. Such was their life for months, happily reveling in each others' friendship.
Eventually, Aphrodite passed a scrap of paper into Ares' hand as she walked by him one day, a coy smile thrown at him at a moment's notice as she passed through the rear door to the building.
In minor confusion, Ares looked down at the paper to erupt into laughter.
For, written on its surface, were the coordinates to her true home, and the encrypted runes to the spell to summon her to his side. At some point, the barmaid had figured out his identity, and never once called him on the fact that he was just as much a god as she was a goddess.
Rushing through the door after her, he found only cricket's singing nighttime's quiet melody.
She was nowhere to be found.
Glancing down at the paper, he chuckled to himself and walked over to his chariot to ride home.
~
And so, their free time gradually began to be spent in each other's company as well. Typically the hours would fly by as they listened to music bespelled to play from the walls, told old stories carefully edited to keep from revealing the most sensitive of information, and without a discussion to the contrary began to sleep at each other's side several nights a month. Never breaking down to the point of physically having intercourse, occasionally sleepily pawing at each other. A kiss here, there.
For a time, they were utterly happy in their denial of what was going on. When asked about the other, both would laugh and wave it off. 'They're merely a friend.' Yet.. it slowly became clear otherwise.
This one of an Aphrodite, and an Ares.
Silly creatures, them both.
One beautiful in all her ways, surrounded by admirers and lovers, and yet yearning for something.. genuine. A life that actually mattered. A companion that wasn't swayed by her abilities. Wandered the land, picking up one occupation or another to learn new skills that delighted her, and make friends. Each time with a disguise of sorts on her face and body, so that she might be seen for who she was, not the legend she had become known by.
The other, a Frankenstein's monster with the mind of a prodigious savant, and burning eyes of coal. A creature of harshness and backhanded affection, born of pain and suffering, clawing his way through life one moment at a time, defeating the monsters that would have slain any other foe. Known for his withering comments and crude humor, all efforts to keep those of flimsy hearts at arms' length, with a fiercely hidden desire for the loneliness to end.
~
The woman, after many years of wandering, grew tired of her unending search for love and meaning, and began to seek friendly faces. Those that she had come to know in the course of her travels, that she could rest near and find comfort. After a mere month or two, she came upon a tavern in a northeastern land, catty-corner to a mage's college. A small thing, whose outer fascade looked as though it ought to be a failing business, with oddly loyal regulars and workers whose eyes twinkled.
As she pulled back the hood of her cloak, she looked up in confusion at the person manning the counter. She hesitantly took a step forward, then another, as he quietly counted through the day's till and sorted the tavern's painstakingly written paperwork. She thought she recognized him, but something of an odd aura almost seemed to be blocking his face from her view.
She continued forward slowly, before coming face to face with the man. He smiled at her, and asked, "How are you today, Aphrodite? Come to get something to drink, or a room perhaps?"
The self-mocking drawl of the barkeep jarred her memory into place.
It was Momus! An old friend whose smile and comfort had gotten her through many pains and troubles over the years, though was known for slipping away at strange intervals.
"Momus, you son of a bitch! What are you doing here? I haven't seen you since I met your children five years ago! What in the hell have you been doing with yourself?"
To which he ducked his head and began selfconsciously twisting a chain he wore round his neck. "Uhhh.. makin' another baby. I think I found myself a woman worth marrying this time."
He looked up at her critically, his eyes pausing on her worn and drawn features, her carefully held back multicolored hair, and the outfit she was wearing from the day's work.
"You look as though you have a few stories to tell, yourself. Why don't we sit down for a spell, catch up on old times? We can talk of babies and marriages and how on earth we both wound up here."
So, shaking her head in amusement, Aphrodite walked over to a secluded table in the corner, and pulled out the chairs for them both. For the next hour, she sat and spun tales of her daring do's and the ne'erdowells she had dealt with in the past few years, pausing each time a customer came into view or waved down her friend Momus. When he could, he sat with her and explained much of the same, coming to a point where he shly confessed that he had a new family now, that this job supported.
Aphrodite sighed and looked down at the scarred tabletop she was sitting at, spreading her hands wide as she did so to give her something to focus on. "I'm so jealous of you, Momus."
"I'm growing weary of the latest job I have taken. I am good at it, but I am surrounded by children, and expected to take commands from them. The pay is shit, but I don't want to return to my temple and go the easy way, again. I want.. a job I can actually enjoy. Before I get pissed and bolt again."
Momus looked at her assessingly, then let out a booming laugh that shook the small corner they were seated at. "Well, why didn't you say so, wretched woman? The tavernowner is looking for another set of hands as we speak. I know I'd look forward to seeing an old friend every day."
Aphrodite stilled in her selfconscious smoothing of her breeches, and looked at her friend in hope and near dismay. "You mean it? You would put in a good word for me? Just like that?"
Momus grinned then, ear to ear. "It won't hurt any to have a beautiful waitress bringing in new clients, now, do you think? The tavern owner is gonna love you. Come back tomorrow, in the morn."
And so she did return, with what paperwork she had grudgingly fetched from her various boltholes proving she was who she said she was (under an alternate name, of course). She charmed the tavern owner, and began work within the week, much to the chagrin of her family.
They had wanted for her to come back to Olympus, and stop meddling with human affairs as she did, and take up an occupation 'worth of her standing.' When she informed them of where she wished to begin work, and with who, they flew to alarm, and her brothers and sisters began yelling.
Momus and his friends were a 'bad crowd,' they said.
They would bring nothing but trouble in her future, they said.
She cared not, and threatened not to return to Olympus if they continued their antics.
They backed down, if grudgingly, imposing new tolls on crossing the borders to the heavens, asking new tithes of her followers, and treating her with disdain. She had newly become trash, it seemed.
~
She began work at the tavern, happily. Cleaning, meeting new customers, showing them to their rooms. Bringing food to the more recalcitrant members of the town so that they didn't have to step foot out in public, preferring their isolation. Smiling, gradually, more and more, as the days went on.
One evening, she was returning to work, and spotted a handwritten list tacked to a small board above the area where she would prep the food in the mornings. Odd things written on the list captured her attention, and began to make her laugh, for what seemed to be the first time in a long time.
-scrub the walls
-tame the manticore (or hire someone else to do it, we don't give a fuck)
-stop frightening the townspeople, they are beginning to complain
-feed the livestock (don't bring that shit home, it'll make you sick!)
-incinerate the garbage
Barely suppressing giggles, she motioned over the tavern manager from where he was standing nearby, and pointed to the list. "Who in the blessed Hades is that for?"
With a surprised look, he said: "Why, the Mad Rus'. He's been with us ten years now."
After a pause, he asked "Have you truly not met him yet?"
She shook her head with a smile. "I think I'd know him if I met him."
With a wry laugh, the portly man turned to go back to his duties. "That crazy fucker. He's a good man, but shit he brings us a bad reputation. Keeps scaring people on purpose so they won't talk to him, and proudly announcing he works for us when he speeds up on his chariot to someone's home. We've had many a complaint over it, but honestly, it's too funny to truly make him stop."
With this, she began to hope to meet the man, if only to congratulate him on his ill reknown.
~
It took her a few weeks, but Aphrodite eventually got into the swing of things. Occasionally hearing rumors of her family and friends back home, even less frequently returning home to visit them and tell them of her adventures. Each time, they fractionally warmed to her, but made it clear:
So long as she kept employ for tricksters, double dealers, and humans.. she was not welcome to live in Olympus, merely visit.
And so, her visits home began to falter, then miss, then cease almost entirely.
On a night she would have ordinarily clocked out early to visit Hermes at one of his stray temples, she grew fatigued and decided against the journey. 'I'll get the morning's work done early, and sleep extra in the morning. These family feuds are beginning to wear on me.'
The sun had far past set, yet she had no inkling of a desire to return to her small hut.
As her hands began to knead the dough for the morning's rolls, she heard a voice cry out:
"Oi, who in the fuck is still here at this ungodly hour? Paean, if that's you, GO THE FUCK HOME!"
Not looking up from her work, she replied: "Even Paean has gone home. Said to hold down the fort while he was gone, and to lie to the tavern owner if he sends a messenger, to say he is here."
Pausing in her work, she turned her eyes to the figure striding by her and time stood still.
A man, moderate in height and stature. At first glance, barely worth noticing, the type of person your gaze might slip on by without capturing your attention. With a squint, she mentally disabled the illusion that covered his form, much like her own illusion covered hers, and gasped.
A pale man standing at roughly 180cm, with a warrior's undercut, the bangs of which messily falling into his face. Piercing eyes of lit coal staring into hers, his hands nervously readjusting their grip on the messenger's bag as he evaluated her. She got lost in his gaze for a moment, imagining the stillness of fires crackling at a traveller's fire, the heat and comfort of slowly falling asleep before the flames.
A rakish grin spread across his face as she visibly shook the cobwebs from her mind and returned to her work. "Oooh, happy Saturnalia, lovely young woman. Who might you be?"
Smirking, she continued to knead the dough. "Oh, you can call me Di. And who are you?"
Eyebrows raising to waggle, he stuck out his tongue. "Oooooh, you can call me Rus', maid."
With a cackle, she let the sticky substance fall from her hands, turning to look for a stray rag to wipe her hands on, passing by him as she did so. "So you're the Mad Rus', eh? I've heard tales of you."
Eyes opening comically wide, he put a hand to his heart in mock distress. "Me? You've heard stories of me? No, gosh, I can't imagine why. Pray tell, young maid, what have you heard?"
Cackling once more, Di finished wiping her hands and set across the room to place the kneaded dough on a tray. He motioned to let him finish the task as she spoke, so she leaned her form against a nearby counter and eyed him with amusement as he deftly went about his task.
"Oh, whisperings of your devilishly handsome visage. Your extreme speeds in that hellfire chariot of yours. Minor tellings of your silliness and antics. Your rogueish behavior behind closed doors."
With this, his eyes narrowed and he began to look at her analytically, his gaze attempting to break through her illusion as hers had his. He slowed in his motions as he did so, and came to a full stop as he outright stared at her. For this, she didn't blame him. Whereas his 'disguise' merely made him unobtrusive and barely worth notice, hers, well.. did a bit more.
To his eyes, she had first appeared as a bedraggled young wench, her hair barely maintained, slipping from her handkerchief to fall in her face. Her hands stained from work, nails rough. Loosely fitting clothing, lending an air of disregard or slovenliness, as if they might have been picked from a stray bin. Smears of flour dusting her front and brushed across her nose, as if she did not care who saw.
What he did see when he took the time to pierce her illusion brought him to a standstill, and it almost seemed as if he ceased to breathe. Without her disguise, she entirely seemed a different woman. Long, curly midnight blue hair held back by a tight black handkerchief, only small tendrils escaping to frame her face. The clothes that seemed so slovenly before, without the lens of disregard, seemed as if they were loose on purpose to hide.. a very curvy figure. A maid that wanted to escape notice, perhaps? His eyes continued to rake over her to note small objects tucked into folds of cloth, the small of her back, even the outline of a blade making a small outline against the dusk colored fabric.
Mildly distracted, he muttered to himself, "You aren't quite what you appear, are you young one?"
With a wry grin at his obvious dispelling of the illusion, Di stood up straight and shook out her shoulders, coming to splay her hands on the countertop behind her to rest her weight. With a blink, she let loose the illusion and a few others he had not noticed yet, to show her full aura.. for but a moment. In that second, her aura softly glimmered around her like blue fireflies in the twilight, as his aura still shone for her like shadows by the night's fire. With another blink, she shored up her mental defenses and returned in appearance to the unassuming tavern's wench she had begun as.
She giggled at his dumbfounded look, and acted as oblivious as she could, engaging him in light chatter about the tavern's patrons, woes, and worries. After they accomplished thenext morning's work, distracted by their conversation, she gently handed him the keys to the establishment, did a light curtsy, and began to walk away. Calling over her shoulder, "Lock up tight, now. Paean will murder me otherwise, there've been thieves prowling about lately, and the safe isn't that well hidden."
Softly shutting the door behind her, the woman left for the night, leaving the man to his musings. He handled the closing up of the tavern for the night, shooing away what drunken visitors had slumped in their chairs in the common area. All the while, looking back over his shoulder at where the woman had stood. Contemplating who she might be, and why she seemed so familiar..
~
Every meeting thereafter, the Rus' began to pick and play with Di, attempting to bait her into revealing more information about herself. Occasionally succeeding. All the while, his eyes would bore into her in a calculated gaze, as a mountain cat might a rabbit hopping along a nearby tableau.
Over time, they grew close. Began to create excuses to spend time in each other's company, separately requesting of the tavern manager to share the same work hours when they could. Sometimes, one would accompany the other on deliveries to nearby towns, citing boredom as their reason to anyone who dared question what they were doing. Most did not, and backed off after merely asking once. Paean, to his credit, quietly told them both only one would be paid per delivery.
Neither cared. They came to stand near each other frequently while cutting vegetables, cleaning, even chatting with other people. It was as if they were slowly drawn to each other, almost without realizing. Such was their life for months, happily reveling in each others' friendship.
Eventually, Aphrodite passed a scrap of paper into Ares' hand as she walked by him one day, a coy smile thrown at him at a moment's notice as she passed through the rear door to the building.
In minor confusion, Ares looked down at the paper to erupt into laughter.
For, written on its surface, were the coordinates to her true home, and the encrypted runes to the spell to summon her to his side. At some point, the barmaid had figured out his identity, and never once called him on the fact that he was just as much a god as she was a goddess.
Rushing through the door after her, he found only cricket's singing nighttime's quiet melody.
She was nowhere to be found.
Glancing down at the paper, he chuckled to himself and walked over to his chariot to ride home.
~
And so, their free time gradually began to be spent in each other's company as well. Typically the hours would fly by as they listened to music bespelled to play from the walls, told old stories carefully edited to keep from revealing the most sensitive of information, and without a discussion to the contrary began to sleep at each other's side several nights a month. Never breaking down to the point of physically having intercourse, occasionally sleepily pawing at each other. A kiss here, there.
For a time, they were utterly happy in their denial of what was going on. When asked about the other, both would laugh and wave it off. 'They're merely a friend.' Yet.. it slowly became clear otherwise.
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