[ the room hades is in - three floors up - looks, more than anything else, like some dive cohort bar. namely because it is a bar, dominated by a long, polished slab of mahogany running nearly from one side to another. it’s old, pocketmarked with scratches and stains and deep ravines in the weathered wood. behind it is a full cabinet of liquor, bottles glistening clear, gold, red, gold, blue, brown, violet, brown, brown, red.
but that’s almost it, other than a few stools, the rest of the room is shockingly empty. on the opposite side of the bar there’s a window overlooking the town; perpendicular is the saddest-looking stage and one of her guitars on a rack. the rest is empty.
hades herself is at the bar, already working on a second glass of something slightly lighter and less viscous than blood. she stops mid-sip when she sees mercymorn enter, setting the tumbler down before she drops it. ]
You remind me of my niece in that.
[ god, she’d give anything to see athena’s smug fucking face. ]
Here. [ she nudges another glass over, pouring from the same bottle. ] Pomegranate liqueur. Old tradition for newcomers.
no subject
but that’s almost it, other than a few stools, the rest of the room is shockingly empty. on the opposite side of the bar there’s a window overlooking the town; perpendicular is the saddest-looking stage and one of her guitars on a rack. the rest is empty.
hades herself is at the bar, already working on a second glass of something slightly lighter and less viscous than blood. she stops mid-sip when she sees mercymorn enter, setting the tumbler down before she drops it. ]
You remind me of my niece in that.
[ god, she’d give anything to see athena’s smug fucking face. ]
Here. [ she nudges another glass over, pouring from the same bottle. ] Pomegranate liqueur. Old tradition for newcomers.