OTHERS

[erebos_dotcom]

One as ancient as he should have known better than to take any skill for granted. There were always twists and turns that never could be smoothed, except by a master's hand. And a master's hand hardly ever faltered (even with the most difficult of tasks), so their craft seemed seamless and easy

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[brighid_dot_com]

It was Grainne who opened the door, her dark eyes bright, and her cheeks full of laughter at some joke still being appreciated by the girls in the great hall. She sobered at the sight of the very tall, very dark God on her Lady's threshold, but only a little.

"Welcome you are, my Lord," the Maiden said with a curtsey, holding up the steaming guest cup to him. "Will you come in from the cold and share of My Lady's HearthFire?"

[erebos_dotcom]

"I thank you," he said, and stepped over the threshold. A bit of divine influence allowed him the ability to balance the bundle in one arm and accept that cup with his now-free hand. It seemed the thing to drink, so he did, before passing it back to the girl who answered the door. Belatedly, he realized that he should have paid more attention to the customs of the celts before visiting.

There was something about her that reminded him of his own Cloey. The beginnings of a smile sparked in his eyes. Of course, it never made it to his face.

He followed the maiden in silence.

[brighid_dot_com]

"Trieste, you and Emer get the Lord a chair. Enye, fetch the velvet robes down, there's a chill on. Dona, take Meghan and Saille to the kitchens now, and be quick about it," she called, and the other girls hurried to obey. "Taless, Branwen, Maeve, play for the Gentleman while I go and tell our Lady that she's a waiting guest."

The girl turned suddenly, bowing to the dark God, and gesturing to a low, round thronelike chair that had been pulled up to one side of the blazing fireplace. It was draped with thick, soft furs, and a little girl of perhaps ten stood just by, arms piled high with masses of black velvet. In the corner behind the hearth, three girls took up their instruments -- one a harp, one a violin, and one a flute -- and began to play a gently lilting tune. "Who shall I tell her has come, My Lord?" she asked.

[erebos_dotcom]

He had opened his mouth to interrupt - Erebos had no need for comforts, and cold had never affected him much - but then he laid eyes on the little girl by the massive chair they pulled out for him

[brighid_dot_com]

"A Greek has come," Grainne lilted as she trotted down the stairs into the Forge proper, "Erebos of Darkness, father of the Fates. He looks a bit like Midhir, he does, only dressed nicer. And he's brought you something, too

[erebos_dotcom]

"The pleasure is mine," he assured, bowing as she stepped down from her hearth. He was not one for dramatic entrances, but she executed it with style. "Your hospitality is unequalled. Your attendants are charming."

He glanced over to the little girl, who was trying to make herself inconspicable, but was quite clearly too curious not to dismiss herself altogether. The harsh lines of his face softened slightly.

"Thank you for meeting with me. I trust I was not interrupting?"

[brighid_dot_com]

She grinned, and turned to settle herself into the facing chair. "Och, not from aught that wilnae mind the wait," she shrugged. "The colour to the steel was off anyway, and that calls for slow heating, not pounding."

She noted Enye hovering behind Erebos' chair, and gave the youngest of her maidens a stern glance and a wink, then cut her eyes toward the three musicians. The girl broke into a wide grin, dropped a curtsey, and went to join them, adding a pure, artless voice to the song.

"I'm glad of the break anyway. I see few Greeks these days, since Ares stirred things sidelong, but I've always enjoyed the company." And the gossip, and the fun of having a lot just as foolish as the DeDannaan to laugh at, as well. she added to herself.

[erebos_dotcom]

Her brogue reminded him of the turn of tongue that his second love, the mortal, used during the times she was very angry. When he sat back down there was something unidentifiable in his eyes, something that only very close family members could have called wistful or perhaps sad. It left a second later.

The little girl's singing was innocent and beautiful in the way only children knew how to be. Erebos did not like spending time with gods and goddesses of other pantheons - barely tolerated the ones of his own - but here. seemed.

Different.

He wondered if this goddess found herself in solitude so often as to welcome a surly guest such as himself. He made sad company, and well he knew it. His wife, Nyx, was much better at socializing.

The thought of his wife, socializing in their ancestral home with that Sumerian, had his hands closing in on themselves in his lap. He focused instead on the business at hand

[brighid_dot_com]

At his mention of the charm, Brighid sobred. She'd been told of Erebos' involvement in that to some extent, but hadn't dug for details -- especially considering that she knew she wouldn't like it. She was a protectress of children, and the Maiden edged just enough into her purview for Brighid to feel rather hennish toward the girl

[erebos_dotcom]

The ache that lay naked in this beautiful goddess' eyes was something he could too easily identify with, something he recognized immediately that should be ignored and steered away from. They had just only met, and were nowhere near close enough to talk about what seemed to be an ancient wound, not yet healed. He casually looked toward the singer and musicians, to give Brighid time to master herself.

Her handmaids came a scant second later, offering perishibles for their enjoyment. As Brighid continued on, he nodded once, reaching for the whiskey. (While he leaned toward scotch, he guessed that the whiskey here would be the best one could find. A moment later, his supposition was confirmed.) "As I have come to know, indeed. To my rue."

He leaned forward, turning his eyes finally back to the one across from him.

"Have you seen Atropos as of late?" he asked.

[brighid_dot_com]

"Atropos?" she blinked, and took a sip before shaking her head. "Not since before my Dark Time, at Solstice. She and I, we donnae cross paths too often..." Brighid gave him a wry smile and a wink, "And I think she avoids me in the Springtime, anyhow."

"Atropos has never struck me as shy when it came to asking for what she wanted, but is there perhaps some reason I ought to seek her out just now?"

[erebos_dotcom]

He shook his head, once. Negation. "No pressing need. When next you two meet, you will find her a changed woman. She is."

He paused, then named it carefully.

"Happy. Happier than she has been in a very long time. I believe you will be pleased to see her again."

Leaning back in the chair, he finished his whiskey and set the glass down. It was surprisingly easy to be in the company of this goddess. Even if he preferred solitude himself. She seemed saucy, yet regal. Powerful, yet kind. Iron-blooded, gentle-hearted. A heady combination. Had he not been married---

The impossible half-thought died the moment his mind tried to register it. What did register was that he was more susceptible to the graciously given kindness from this beauty than he had imagined, at present. Now that he knew it, the danger of it lessened. But it troubled him. He cleared his throat

[brighid_dot_com]

Ohh, yes. This was the Lame Smith's work; fine and fractured and full of beauty and sorrow. She slipped her long, trailing sleeve over her hand in respect for the steel, and slid her fingers along the elegant line of the blade

[erebos_dotcom]

Those eyes. Again, he was mesmerized by the blend of loss and strength there