Belenus looks out the window of his study. Lassen is stately and tired, like a waltz gone out of fashion. Lassen is... gray, gray and vacant; there seem to be more ghosts than people walking the streets.

He has ghosts of his own to spare, of course.

He dips his quill in the inkwell. Asaka will be in the kitchen, no doubt. Baking bread, or ( Read more... )

As she hits the floor, she muses that the sad truth of the world these days is that some people actually envy her a private audience with Lezard.

His lips twist, but his mouth stays closed-a smirk, not an incantation. “Give up yet, Mysty?”

She ignores him, focusing instead on the wisps of lightning readied in her palm. She doesn’t even bother to ( Read more... )

 

“I’ve been thinking about something,” Hrist says.

Freya has not seen her for some centuries, and perhaps, if matters stood differently, she would pay better attention. But Freya, leaning on one arm of Odin’s throne, is too busy running through scenarios, calculating the odds they can still pull through when so much has gone wrong. Her conclusions ( Read more... )