"You are the first goddess I have met. How would I know?" Chaos gods ate the souls, or blood, or pain, of their subjects. Eating some fresh-baked bread was reassuringly normal.
"I am not secretly any sort of god. I do not crave power of any sort." Which is what gods were in his world.
"I am? There are certainly gods about." She had only met one other, Loki, but perhaps Gadriel had not had the pleasure? "I suppose you wouldn't, then. I do eat, though, just not meat." There was none here, so that wasn't an issue, but for future reference.
Loki, well, to be honest, he'd never seen Loki eat anything, either. He had seen him turn into a woman, and be blue and other things, but eat? Not that he could recall.
That was absolutely not the look or sound of him filing that away for future reference. Nope.
The dark was settling in around them, soft wings of shadow folding down. Gadriel pulled out the small bottle she had left at his camp. "Would you share this as well?"
"Of course. I apologize if it is too sweet — golden apples usually have a specific taste that I could not replicate with the mundane ones offered here, but I hope it is still drinkable."
"It will be fine." Even he knew that it would not be particularly flattering to her for him to point out he could and likely would drink it if it were poisonous, a) because he literally could and b) Ultramarine rations were terrible, so even awful-tasting was an improvement.
He held the bottle out to her. Night had fallen completely but he could swear it seemed that the bottle held a little glow, as if it had captured the last rays of the falling sun.
She took the bottle, popped the cork, and took a small sip. The liquid was indeed very sweet, and just a little tart. Drinkable and certainly not poison. Probably.
She handed it back to Gadriel. "Not my finest work, but I did not botch it entirely."
He took the bottle back, taking a sip and waiting, savoring it first before speaking. It reminded him of the night he had spent with Night Sky, when she'd fed him the glucose, sweet and earthy and almost too hot to eat right away. This was different, cool, and sweet in a way that seemed to sparkle on his tongue.
"I like it." For whatever that is worth. "You should not diminish your efforts. You did what you could in imperfect circumstances."
"This is fine as it is." Mind you, Gadriel did not have the most refined palate. Sweet was good, because he could recognize it. "How did you learn to make this?"
Right now, it was really just fancy apple juice. "I was given the recipe. Proper Nectar is a divine indulgence for the gods of Olympus and is made of golden apples. A treat in the Underworld, although less so now that I can make them myself."
"This is good enough for me. I am no god." Obviously. What would he even be a god of? Social awkwardness?
He handed it back to her in case she wanted more, looking over the bay, where the stars were glittering on the waves from the sky above. A different kind of beauty, where the roiling waves managed to look peaceful somehow.
"So you would refuse if I offered you the true nectar?" she asked.
Melinoë gently pushed the bottle back toward him. It was his gift to drink, not hers. She still had plenty stored back at her camp. Instead, her gaze drifted to the water and the darkening horizon.
"I shouldn't grow complacent here," she murmured. "My duty to slay Chronos weighs heavily on my mind. And yet… these moments of beauty are hard to turn away from."
"No. I would refuse nothing you offered." Wait. That came out a little...much. But he couldn't think of a way to retract it so he just let the words hang in the night air, watching the sky on the water.
"I understand. My chapter, my kind, we have the hours set for us for our Primarch, so that we have something to fill our time, other than worry and idleness. It is a blessing sometimes."
"Good. It is rude to refuse a gift from the gods." She teased — although it was very true if her interactions with the gods of Olympus were to be considered.
"Most of my time is spent hunting down Chronos, or aiding my family on the surface. The Crossroads offer some reprieve, but even then I feel anxious when I am not moving. Is it like this often, here?" Should she expect it more?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thecodexabides) wrote2025-01-01 01:22 pm
no subject
"I did not suspect you had, not unless you were secretly a sun god." Didn't strike her as the type. More... war oriented. Ares would like him.
She looked down, tore a bit of bread off, and handed some to him as well. "Did you think I did not eat?"
no subject
"I am not secretly any sort of god. I do not crave power of any sort." Which is what gods were in his world.
no subject
"Not all gods crave power."
no subject
That was absolutely not the look or sound of him filing that away for future reference. Nope.
The dark was settling in around them, soft wings of shadow folding down. Gadriel pulled out the small bottle she had left at his camp. "Would you share this as well?"
no subject
"Of course. I apologize if it is too sweet — golden apples usually have a specific taste that I could not replicate with the mundane ones offered here, but I hope it is still drinkable."
no subject
He held the bottle out to her. Night had fallen completely but he could swear it seemed that the bottle held a little glow, as if it had captured the last rays of the falling sun.
no subject
She handed it back to Gadriel. "Not my finest work, but I did not botch it entirely."
no subject
"I like it." For whatever that is worth. "You should not diminish your efforts. You did what you could in imperfect circumstances."
no subject
"When I am able to find some golden apples, I will make a proper one." She said cheerfully. "Without any magic involved."
no subject
no subject
no subject
He handed it back to her in case she wanted more, looking over the bay, where the stars were glittering on the waves from the sky above. A different kind of beauty, where the roiling waves managed to look peaceful somehow.
no subject
Melinoë gently pushed the bottle back toward him. It was his gift to drink, not hers. She still had plenty stored back at her camp. Instead, her gaze drifted to the water and the darkening horizon.
"I shouldn't grow complacent here," she murmured. "My duty to slay Chronos weighs heavily on my mind. And yet… these moments of beauty are hard to turn away from."
no subject
"I understand. My chapter, my kind, we have the hours set for us for our Primarch, so that we have something to fill our time, other than worry and idleness. It is a blessing sometimes."
no subject
"Most of my time is spent hunting down Chronos, or aiding my family on the surface. The Crossroads offer some reprieve, but even then I feel anxious when I am not moving. Is it like this often, here?" Should she expect it more?