She looks at the couch, and its lack of walls, for a few seconds.
But Námo feels right, so she lifts her skirts a bit and moves over to where he is. Her hair falls over her face, hiding the left, and she arranges herself so that the fewest passersby will get a glimpse.
I know about the dead, though the dead in my Halls do not become stupid. They become sullen, separate, and they dislike me for being their Keeper. The Men moreso than the Elves since the Elves know they have the right to rebirth. 'Tis a lonely Duty.
She turns her head, and shows the dead half of her body.
"I'm not. I'm ugly. Almost right, but not. He said that I was worse than my brothers. They don't look anything like the gods, but I almost do."
The fingers of her living hand find the itchy spots on the cat-body and scratch gently. One of her brothers is a giant wolf, she's pretty good at scratching.
Námo purrs a soft song as he leans into the touch.
Death is not ugly, even in its physical form. I find nothing unbecoming of your physical appearance, Lady. I stand by my declaration that you are beautiful.
There are many here who are a pleasure to be around. I have met several such people, as well as a few I would prefer to ... avoid. They make my head ache some of the time.
He continues to purr.
I have been here for almost a month now, leaving only twice.
"I think I was first here...eight or so months ago, by the bar's clock. But it has been centuries for me. I don't want to leave again. I get so tired of grey..."
She trails off after a moment, fingers stilling before she gives herself a little shake,
"The trees are beautiful. I like the reds, even though it means that the leaves are dying."
He likes sprawling.
His blue eyes latch onto something new. Something unusual. Something ... not quite alive, not quite dead.
Interesting.
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Her left side is kept to the wall, but eventually she notices the cat and looks back at it evenly through her only good eye.
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Greetings, he sends to her, his voice soft, lyrical. Are you new to this place?
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Her voice is softly slurred, pulled by the mummified left half,
"Not new, but I have not been here in a long time. I can't always find the door."
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His tail thumps on the cushion next to him.
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But Námo feels right, so she lifts her skirts a bit and moves over to where he is. Her hair falls over her face, hiding the left, and she arranges herself so that the fewest passersby will get a glimpse.
"I am Hel. Thank you."
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You seem uncomfortable here. Are others unkind to you?
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She says after a while,
"Or anything with a brain, really. The dead get really, really stupid in Niflheim, and I can't leave. Except when I come here."
And after another pause,
"And Men are usually afraid of me. I'm very ugly."
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I think you quite fair to look upon.
Námo curls up against her thigh.
I know about the dead, though the dead in my Halls do not become stupid. They become sullen, separate, and they dislike me for being their Keeper. The Men moreso than the Elves since the Elves know they have the right to rebirth. 'Tis a lonely Duty.
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"I'm not. I'm ugly. Almost right, but not. He said that I was worse than my brothers. They don't look anything like the gods, but I almost do."
The fingers of her living hand find the itchy spots on the cat-body and scratch gently. One of her brothers is a giant wolf, she's pretty good at scratching.
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Death is not ugly, even in its physical form. I find nothing unbecoming of your physical appearance, Lady. I stand by my declaration that you are beautiful.
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"Thank you."
Only her father has ever said that to her.
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You are most welcome, though why you would thank me for a truth, I do not know. How long have you been here? Have you met many of the patrons?
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She sets him back on the couch, but continues to pet him gently,
"I know three people. Four, if you count the Valkyrie. Six if you count the alternate world versions of my father and oldest brother."
She doesn't like Valkyrie.
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He continues to purr.
I have been here for almost a month now, leaving only twice.
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She trails off after a moment, fingers stilling before she gives herself a little shake,
"The trees are beautiful. I like the reds, even though it means that the leaves are dying."
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