sixwordstories | (no subject)

You really shouldn't pollute your body with that dear.

[ooc: I'm using my fallen gods (http://hospitable-hel.livejournal.com/1260.html) verse here if that's OK.]

[She turns around quietly, cup cradled in her hand. Despite showers and baths, despite elegant clothing and perfume, a smell of disinfectant follows her. A shame, really.]

Hel. [She bows her head, a subtle gesture disgusted even if most of the mortals around are not fully alert.] I doubt the company can do too much to make a cup of coffee that toxic.

[The scent doesn't bother Hel. It is comfortingly familiar in its sterility.]

I have nothing against a good cup of coffee, different blends have a variety of beneficial properties. It's just fast food outlets tend to produce something that resembles watered-down mud.

[Eurydice would think she'd be used to it by now. But it seems unnatural, she knows it's unnatural. She's a nature spirit and things shouldn't be made to smell sterile. She doesn't even mind the smell of decay. That's natural.]

I'm afraid I can't be so picky at 4 o'clock in the morning. [Her smile is tried.] A young man passed on earlier tonight... last night. [It's 4 am.] So they called me in late.

As long as watered down mud has caffeine, I think I can deal.

[Hel by contrast had just been to an antiques auction and couldn't sleep afterward so she was wondering the city.]

In that case, take whatever keeps you awake. What was the cause of death? [She looks genuinely interested, Hel missed her role in death despite her attempts to move on. The pleasures in life were empty without a knowledge of their impermanence.]

I promise you that I find higher quality drinks when the hours are reasonable. [Funny how she can't even imagine how work without coffee, when she was able to do so thousands of years ago without hitch.] Tumor. Late diagnosis. It was a relatively easy job. [She sighs, she's still attached, not quite dead and not quite living. She still feels badly she can't answer where souls go to... now, anyway.]

Funny things tumours, subtle. All mortals die young but it is a pity that some are taken in their prime or sooner. I used to care for a great many children in Niflhel. [She often felt as though her turn should have come by now. There had to be other afterlives. She pulls on her coat, which had been draped over her arm.]

Anyway, my glamour will begin to fade if I don't sleep soon. You should get some rest too.

Dying young is not exclusive to mortals. Surviving death... that's a new trick all together. [She smiled sadly, fingers tightening around the foam cup. It truly did taste like mud but it was warm.]

Too late, I suppose. Maybe a walk in the park will refresh me. I suppose I won't be called on for at the least another day... or we get a special case. [She sighed.] Time off. The only thing that I enjoy about embalming over being a morti-- director. More time to myself.

Do you have a car? I could drive.

My car is back home. ['Home' being a renovated warehouse. She enjoyed revealing the beauty in things that others perceived to be shabby or even ugly.]

But I will walk, it is only a few blocks away. If I encounter any predators on the way I will be sure to send their remains your way.

Oh. [She suddenly takes a sip of her coffee, hiding the disappointment with the motion.] I didn't realize you lived so close to here.

[She gives a sad smile to the Goddess.] I will make sure they're beautiful for their final rest if you do so, Hel.

[She smiles cheekily.] On second thoughts, I'd rather reserve your artistry for more deserving individuals. I don't endorse murder you understand, but I have no patience for those who prey upon the weak.

I may stay a little longer if you don't mind my presence, I would be glad of the company. It is not often that I can speak so openly about death.

There too many who prey upon, and not enough to defend. Strange how the minorities of a populace dictate so much about rule of law. I suppose the sheep dog and wolf metaphor would siddle into this idea quite well.

If it doesn't bring you undue risk, I would like the company. I don't have the pleasure of talking to my own kind all that often. [It didn't really matter the Pantheon for Eurydice anymore. There were only less than thousands, and there were so many billions.]

I am familiar with the role of a judge, whether or not I am unprejudiced is another matter entirely.

I do not meet with the deities and beings of other pantheons very often. It is a pity since there are counterparts to be found, those with whom we can relate.

Well, as one who spent her first and second life avoiding the wolves, I'm glad for your prejudice. Though, it's gotten a bit easier.

No, we're scattered to the winds. I've seen my kin in... seeder places. Nymphs have always been tight knit. [She just doesn't feel like much of one anymore.]

Your kind fascinate me, you are like nature spirits are you not? It must be a challenge to thrive in this increasingly industrialised world; I can hardly judge those who are able to adapt.

We are. And there's so many of us. Some associated with stars by the Greeks though they didn't quite understand stars. I'm just a dryad. You could hurt a tree and it wouldn't hurt me, but it would hurt my hamadryads kin if not kill them. When we weren't so spread out, and industrialization wasn't everywhere, we were... violent. Most of my sisters adapted to the arts.

You sound like a varied people. So how did a dryad come to work in a place like this? It is a career quite far removed from the arts.

I've spent much of my existence in the late Grecian underworld. I had the full intention of becoming a dancer but... nothing felt right to dance to after Hades faded away. I felt I could answer some of the bereaved's questions and relieve suffering.

I am sorry to hear your death god is no longer with you. While I would love to see you dance, in joy or sorrow, I can respect your abstaining from it.

It is very noble of you to share your wisdom. I have a strained relationship with death, I try to escape it and yet I could never truly be without it. One would expect more from a goddess. [Then again she had never seen herself as one.]

Ah, no. The realm. Though I haven't seen my patron's husband in centuries. [She respects Lord Hades, but her loyalty was towards Persephone.] It's so hard to explain to sisters and those of my pantheon that I don't. Thankfully it's not an issue as persistent as one would think.

I guess I'm on the same boat. I'm so used to being dead. All the poems, all the myths, all the operas, all the plays. Dead. But I'm not anymore. So... I keep a cordial relationship with the concept. [She smiles.] It's tied with you, now. I haven't met one god, spirit, or anything of the sort actually break away from their portfolio fully.

I always did have an affinity with death, even before I became a goddess. To this day I cannot say whether I was ever truly alive; I don't think I am wholly dead either.

[She looks wistful then turns her attention back to Eurydice and smiles.] It sounds as though you adapted to it quite well but then you are in tune with the natural world. Decay is very much a part of that.

I find myself wondering that. Some days I almost feel... like all is bright and well. Other days I'm dragging my heels. I've flirted with the idea of calling myself a zombie, but I haven't rotted one bit.

[She smiles quietly.] My sisters either forget or just don't realize. I probably would be no different if I hadn't been bitten by a snake.