(no subject)
The god of wine looks pleased as he sits oh so comfortably in one of the squishy arm chairs so thoughtfully provided by the Nexus. No bottle with him today, but attention is drawn to his hip flask by dint of it being a bright pink, and also by the fact that his jeans ride low on his hips. Or perhaps it's the flask that draws attention to his hips?
There's a pleased flush to him, a lazy satisfaction that probably has more to do with the flowers strewn across his lap than what a dirty mind would first come up with, fingers plucking at the petals in the same manner as an older woman picking lint balls off of a shawl, arranging and humming idly.
"This was brought up in a conversation, and it got me curious," he says finally, running his other hand through his hair to get it out of his face. "If could you be a god, or goddess, what would you be god-or-dess of? Please note that answering this question will not entitle you to said powers."
The last is said in a muttered undertone, like a disclaimer or fine print.
There's a pleased flush to him, a lazy satisfaction that probably has more to do with the flowers strewn across his lap than what a dirty mind would first come up with, fingers plucking at the petals in the same manner as an older woman picking lint balls off of a shawl, arranging and humming idly.
"This was brought up in a conversation, and it got me curious," he says finally, running his other hand through his hair to get it out of his face. "If could you be a god, or goddess, what would you be god-or-dess of? Please note that answering this question will not entitle you to said powers."
The last is said in a muttered undertone, like a disclaimer or fine print.