falling apart to half time [Closed/Complete]
Characters: Hades & Lethe
Date/Time: After this request.
Location: A classy club...somewhere
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Summary: Hades fulfilled Lethe's birthday request.
The tables were high - the sort that necessitated tall chairs that looked as though they spun (if you were inclined toward chair-spinning, of course), the room was dim - not dark, really, just a certain lack of lighting that lent itself to close quarters and quiet conversation - and the music was older than either of the people occupying the chairs looked. (Something of an important distinction, if one particularly cared to know.)
The girl was smiling into her drink, dress an optimistically springy shade of blue and one leg idly swinging idly - manner more or less that of exactly the sort of person potentially inclined toward the spinning of chairs. She tilted her head, toying with her straw and eyes crinkling at the corners, "You are certain that it would not please you to be thanked again, sir?"
There was a more relaxed air to Hades as they sat there, a place far more classy than the more modern venues for dancing- in which grinding bodies inappropriately was the norm- no, this place was expensive and elegant. Yet dark, pretty much an ambience that suited the lord of the dead well. He laughed- yes, apparently he did laugh now and again, and shook his head in quick gesture.
"No, Lethe, that is fine." He clearly was in a good mood for several reasons, one of which was sitting across from him. He valued Lethe and she was so eager to please, she made very good company. "Is the drink to your liking?" He always preferred simple drinks, much like Thanatos whiskey and brandy and anything straight.
"Oh, of course, sir," she nodded, click of her heel back against the chair leg startling her slightly, ankles immediately (if a bit sheepishly) crossing to still the habitual motion. "It is very pleasant."
Pleasant, perhaps. But sweet, no doubt. It was something of a bad habit, really, but not one that she could bring herself to mind too terribly.
"Though, I must admit, I am still entirely uncertain as to the point of commemorating getting older. The girls at work insisted on getting something," her nose wrinkled, smile just the slightest bit sly. "Which is ironic, since I very much doubt that any of them have eaten a slice of cake in years."
An amused smile was shot in her direction before Hades took a long sip, finishing his drink and setting down the glass. "Well, I suppose they are simply trying to follow the formalities, even if they would not do it themselves." Oh mortals, how pitiful they were at times, full of contradictions and double-standard, at least death was absolute and the Underworld inescapable. Ahem. They would not speak of Sisyphus or such.
Turning on his chair, Hades moved down, uncomfortable already on those high chairs (they looked rather flimsy to him, a throne was far more solid and better in overlooking everything else in the room). "But we came here with another purpose, so if you'd oblige me? I'd very much like a dance with you."
"Proper protocol, sir?"
She'd eaten three. Just to be something of a brat. Well, and because it was rather good.
Lethe didn't wait for a hand to aide her down from her own perch (it wasn't something she considered to be standard any longer, her own sense of familiarity bending in a slightly different direction) merely stepping from her chair on her own, even if the motion was a bit more bouncing than was strictly necessary. The crook of his arm was taken easily, however, once on solid ground - with a fluid sweep of a curtsy in between, "It would, of course, be my pleasure."
"Yes, whatever it is people for birthdays do here. Fitting in, whichever." He gave a wave with his free hand dismissing the topic without further thought. Mortals and their doings (or not doings) were not of any interest unless they were serving a purpose or getting in his way. That was all. Though he found that as a mortal, he had a lot more company, he was... well, almost liked by some.
He lead her to the dance floor, with a certain sense of pride. After all, dancing with Lethe was enjoyable and watching them dance? Rather special. Hades didn't care for much things, but dancing with Lethe had won a spot in his mortal routine that he wouldn't mind repeating now and again. Letting her settle into his arms with that fluidity of hers, he waited for the moment she was ready to start their dance.
Lethe walked differently, held herself differently on his arm than she did on her own (differently, even, than the shutter-eyed girl on the chair moments before) - steps more certain, chin held higher - absent of the stuttery uncertainty that she generally possessed. If she was to be his partner, after all, she was to do it well. Even if only for that period of time, the attention he seemed to garner wasn't something that made her flicker and fade.
She took her place with a laugh, bright-eyed and certain in it.
She could match him - for a moment.
And for those moments, Hades didn't feel threatened or offended by her matching him, if anything he welcomed it and took pleasure out of it. He settled his hand on her waist and another took her own, he was gentle but firm in his touch- never inappropriate- enough to guide her to his beat. So fluid and elegant and special. Hades wondered if his wife in future could dance this well, perhaps it was something he should ask her one day.
For now his attention was back on Lethe, bright-eyed and ready. He offered a tight-lip but genuine smile (those were an effort for Hades) and then he began the first step, his eyes on hers. There was something wonderful and simple about this, but in its simplicity it never stopped capturing his attention.
The room and spectators didn't matter, just this.
She relished in those small things, to be entirely honest. Always the most pleased in her tiny, particular allowances. They were her favorite sort of favor, really, subtle and easily overlooked as they were. Forgotten things, almost. And forgotten things needed affection.
Her fingers curled in his softly, and she was poised in those moments before the motion - a waiting thrum of potentiality, suspended slightly and tightened like a bow-string. Waiting.
And then she was flowing backwards, one foot and then another - slow, perhaps, but with purpose. An easy slide, directed and played out with the certainty of the song that still played - dimmed in her ears, but still unmistakably there.
If there was one clear advantage of Lethe being mortal- this was it- Hades was a man who enjoyed a sort of beauty, a sort of power- that was not the usual type people assumed and just watching her flow backwards, foot - pace, slow- purpose- she slid and directed and he moved with her in that rhythm. Both guiding and being guided by her.
The tempo of the music could have been whatever, because the two would have still fallen in sync with it and flowed with ease. One. Two. Three.
He turned elegantly and brought her close, then far- spin, turn, twirl- close again and moving back he went.
The slightest change of pressure, a tightening of the hold at her waist, and she slowed, stopped, changed direction accordingly - dark lashes briefly fanned against her cheeks before eyes were blinking back up at him through errant, spin-stirred curls. She would have made a fine china-doll had she not been breathing, had her eyes not been bright with quieted cheerfulness.
The twirl recoiled and tugged her back tight, fingers running the curve of his shoulder - occasionally tapping out a bit of the beat they recognized (don't ask me;) before she did, and accompanying a quiet hum when she occasionally caught up.
There was something in Hades' eyes akin to contentment and amusement but it was difficult to pin down, instead he moved with her- again and again. One song became two and then three- until time went by, but it had been enough because he felt his mortal body protest and so with a bit of reluctance he guided Lethe to a stop.
"Mortality." He complained, though it was thanks to it that he had found Lethe's talent for dancing. It was a difficult dilemma, but Hades wasn't going to dwell on it for long.
She stilled and nodded an amused agreement, breath a bit shallow, laughter cut halfway to gasping, "It is tiring, I must admit."
Which was strange in and of itself at times. To genuinely be tired. Not just the familiarly slow lethargy accompanying Hypnos, but reaching the end of a given day and wishing nothing more than to curl up and rest. And while the resting was generally enjoyable, the necessity of it was still exceedingly odd.
"But it is brilliant too," she murmured, lower lip momentarily tugged between her teeth. "Everything is - precious, perhaps. In its limitations. This is the last time that we will do exactly this. We may dance again, certainly - but it will never again be right now. So right now is brilliant."
Hades was, admittedly, stunned and appreciative of her observation and she was of course right. The surprise lasted on his face for a moment as he made sense of it all and then he laughed- a deep, rich, genuine laugh before he gave a sound of agreement. "That is a very wise thing, Lethe, it is a pity that mortals never treasure the moments they spend on this earth like that." But he was still a God and while her words caused him to think, he did not know if he was capable of thinking about time as such.
An eternity of being immortal sets someone in their ways after all.
Laughing once more, Hades drew her close, slipping something into her hand before he dipped down to place a rather chaste kiss on her lips. "Happy Birthday, then, Lethe."
Date/Time: After this request.
Location: A classy club...somewhere
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Summary: Hades fulfilled Lethe's birthday request.
The tables were high - the sort that necessitated tall chairs that looked as though they spun (if you were inclined toward chair-spinning, of course), the room was dim - not dark, really, just a certain lack of lighting that lent itself to close quarters and quiet conversation - and the music was older than either of the people occupying the chairs looked. (Something of an important distinction, if one particularly cared to know.)
The girl was smiling into her drink, dress an optimistically springy shade of blue and one leg idly swinging idly - manner more or less that of exactly the sort of person potentially inclined toward the spinning of chairs. She tilted her head, toying with her straw and eyes crinkling at the corners, "You are certain that it would not please you to be thanked again, sir?"
There was a more relaxed air to Hades as they sat there, a place far more classy than the more modern venues for dancing- in which grinding bodies inappropriately was the norm- no, this place was expensive and elegant. Yet dark, pretty much an ambience that suited the lord of the dead well. He laughed- yes, apparently he did laugh now and again, and shook his head in quick gesture.
"No, Lethe, that is fine." He clearly was in a good mood for several reasons, one of which was sitting across from him. He valued Lethe and she was so eager to please, she made very good company. "Is the drink to your liking?" He always preferred simple drinks, much like Thanatos whiskey and brandy and anything straight.
"Oh, of course, sir," she nodded, click of her heel back against the chair leg startling her slightly, ankles immediately (if a bit sheepishly) crossing to still the habitual motion. "It is very pleasant."
Pleasant, perhaps. But sweet, no doubt. It was something of a bad habit, really, but not one that she could bring herself to mind too terribly.
"Though, I must admit, I am still entirely uncertain as to the point of commemorating getting older. The girls at work insisted on getting something," her nose wrinkled, smile just the slightest bit sly. "Which is ironic, since I very much doubt that any of them have eaten a slice of cake in years."
An amused smile was shot in her direction before Hades took a long sip, finishing his drink and setting down the glass. "Well, I suppose they are simply trying to follow the formalities, even if they would not do it themselves." Oh mortals, how pitiful they were at times, full of contradictions and double-standard, at least death was absolute and the Underworld inescapable. Ahem. They would not speak of Sisyphus or such.
Turning on his chair, Hades moved down, uncomfortable already on those high chairs (they looked rather flimsy to him, a throne was far more solid and better in overlooking everything else in the room). "But we came here with another purpose, so if you'd oblige me? I'd very much like a dance with you."
"Proper protocol, sir?"
She'd eaten three. Just to be something of a brat. Well, and because it was rather good.
Lethe didn't wait for a hand to aide her down from her own perch (it wasn't something she considered to be standard any longer, her own sense of familiarity bending in a slightly different direction) merely stepping from her chair on her own, even if the motion was a bit more bouncing than was strictly necessary. The crook of his arm was taken easily, however, once on solid ground - with a fluid sweep of a curtsy in between, "It would, of course, be my pleasure."
"Yes, whatever it is people for birthdays do here. Fitting in, whichever." He gave a wave with his free hand dismissing the topic without further thought. Mortals and their doings (or not doings) were not of any interest unless they were serving a purpose or getting in his way. That was all. Though he found that as a mortal, he had a lot more company, he was... well, almost liked by some.
He lead her to the dance floor, with a certain sense of pride. After all, dancing with Lethe was enjoyable and watching them dance? Rather special. Hades didn't care for much things, but dancing with Lethe had won a spot in his mortal routine that he wouldn't mind repeating now and again. Letting her settle into his arms with that fluidity of hers, he waited for the moment she was ready to start their dance.
Lethe walked differently, held herself differently on his arm than she did on her own (differently, even, than the shutter-eyed girl on the chair moments before) - steps more certain, chin held higher - absent of the stuttery uncertainty that she generally possessed. If she was to be his partner, after all, she was to do it well. Even if only for that period of time, the attention he seemed to garner wasn't something that made her flicker and fade.
She took her place with a laugh, bright-eyed and certain in it.
She could match him - for a moment.
And for those moments, Hades didn't feel threatened or offended by her matching him, if anything he welcomed it and took pleasure out of it. He settled his hand on her waist and another took her own, he was gentle but firm in his touch- never inappropriate- enough to guide her to his beat. So fluid and elegant and special. Hades wondered if his wife in future could dance this well, perhaps it was something he should ask her one day.
For now his attention was back on Lethe, bright-eyed and ready. He offered a tight-lip but genuine smile (those were an effort for Hades) and then he began the first step, his eyes on hers. There was something wonderful and simple about this, but in its simplicity it never stopped capturing his attention.
The room and spectators didn't matter, just this.
She relished in those small things, to be entirely honest. Always the most pleased in her tiny, particular allowances. They were her favorite sort of favor, really, subtle and easily overlooked as they were. Forgotten things, almost. And forgotten things needed affection.
Her fingers curled in his softly, and she was poised in those moments before the motion - a waiting thrum of potentiality, suspended slightly and tightened like a bow-string. Waiting.
And then she was flowing backwards, one foot and then another - slow, perhaps, but with purpose. An easy slide, directed and played out with the certainty of the song that still played - dimmed in her ears, but still unmistakably there.
If there was one clear advantage of Lethe being mortal- this was it- Hades was a man who enjoyed a sort of beauty, a sort of power- that was not the usual type people assumed and just watching her flow backwards, foot - pace, slow- purpose- she slid and directed and he moved with her in that rhythm. Both guiding and being guided by her.
The tempo of the music could have been whatever, because the two would have still fallen in sync with it and flowed with ease. One. Two. Three.
He turned elegantly and brought her close, then far- spin, turn, twirl- close again and moving back he went.
The slightest change of pressure, a tightening of the hold at her waist, and she slowed, stopped, changed direction accordingly - dark lashes briefly fanned against her cheeks before eyes were blinking back up at him through errant, spin-stirred curls. She would have made a fine china-doll had she not been breathing, had her eyes not been bright with quieted cheerfulness.
The twirl recoiled and tugged her back tight, fingers running the curve of his shoulder - occasionally tapping out a bit of the beat they recognized (don't ask me;) before she did, and accompanying a quiet hum when she occasionally caught up.
There was something in Hades' eyes akin to contentment and amusement but it was difficult to pin down, instead he moved with her- again and again. One song became two and then three- until time went by, but it had been enough because he felt his mortal body protest and so with a bit of reluctance he guided Lethe to a stop.
"Mortality." He complained, though it was thanks to it that he had found Lethe's talent for dancing. It was a difficult dilemma, but Hades wasn't going to dwell on it for long.
She stilled and nodded an amused agreement, breath a bit shallow, laughter cut halfway to gasping, "It is tiring, I must admit."
Which was strange in and of itself at times. To genuinely be tired. Not just the familiarly slow lethargy accompanying Hypnos, but reaching the end of a given day and wishing nothing more than to curl up and rest. And while the resting was generally enjoyable, the necessity of it was still exceedingly odd.
"But it is brilliant too," she murmured, lower lip momentarily tugged between her teeth. "Everything is - precious, perhaps. In its limitations. This is the last time that we will do exactly this. We may dance again, certainly - but it will never again be right now. So right now is brilliant."
Hades was, admittedly, stunned and appreciative of her observation and she was of course right. The surprise lasted on his face for a moment as he made sense of it all and then he laughed- a deep, rich, genuine laugh before he gave a sound of agreement. "That is a very wise thing, Lethe, it is a pity that mortals never treasure the moments they spend on this earth like that." But he was still a God and while her words caused him to think, he did not know if he was capable of thinking about time as such.
An eternity of being immortal sets someone in their ways after all.
Laughing once more, Hades drew her close, slipping something into her hand before he dipped down to place a rather chaste kiss on her lips. "Happy Birthday, then, Lethe."